Victor Craig sat in his comfortably furnished office and studied the hotel guest list Half a dozen of the rooms and two of the suites were vacant. That didn't worry him at all. In fact it was his policy to keep a number of rooms available for what he liked to think of as an emergency.
Of the fourteen rooms that were occupied at that time, only six could be considered of interest Of the three suites, only one came into that category.
A slight frown creased Victor Craig's tanned forehead. That was below average, he reflected ... but, on the other hand, it was a fairly slack time of the year. A casual observer would have thought that he was mentally calculating whether he was making a profit or loss, but that was not so. The financial side of the hotel did not concern Victor Craig in the slightest Indeed, from that point of view he had no need to run it all.
He was, in fact, as near a millionaire as made no difference, having made a pile in property deals in England and on the continent. The bulk of his fortune remained invested in those properties while the hotel which he had purchased some three years previously-and which he had named 'Chez Victor'-was something he kept for his own personal diversion.
In its own small but beautifully kept grounds it stood on the outskirts of Paris, on the route to Versailles. Ornate and Edwardian in design and outward appearance, the hotel had nevertheless been converted and modernised so that guests could enjoy every convenience and luxury. Charges were high and thus Victor Craig had the type of clientele he preferred.
When Victor had bought the hotel some three years before, he had not only had it modernised he had also had certain structural alterations made. The reasons for them were not obvious to the builders (who were officially told they were to do with a new form of ventilating and heating system) but since these builders were being extremely well paid, they asked no questions. Victor himself spent several months personally putting the finishing touches to these alterations. This he had to do for he wished to keep their purpose secret-for obvious reasons, as will be seen.
Victor glanced at his watch. It was mid-afternoon. Most of the hotel guests would be out. He had noted many of them leaving, in fact ... it being his customary practice to keep a check on comings and goings as far as possible. There was one couple who would not have gone out though, he reflected with a smile. That was the honeymoon couple who occupied one of the suites. That should prove to be quite entertaining. It was certainly worth investigating.
Victor Craig stood up and locked his study door. Then he made his way over to one of two massive steel safes which stood against the wall. One of these was used as was originally intended. The second had a different purpose. Victor, and only Victor, knew the combination of both.
Broad shouldered and stocky, he stood before the safe and operated the tumbler lock. His rather sharp-featured face was well tanned, his fairish hair was crew-cut. He wore only dark blue slacks and a light coloured shirt in the American style, worn so that it hung outside the slacks. He was in his early forties but looked a little younger.
After a few moments the door swung open easily and silently.
Victor stepped into the large safe and closed the door behind him. Immediately a light came on above his head and he turned a handle set in the back of the safe. A door at the back of the safe opened and Victor moved into a narrow passage and closed the door behind him. The safe, of course, was not a true safe at all but a concealed entrance to the secret part of the hotel which Victor had had constructed.
This construction was unique in its way for it consisted of a series of passages which connected with all rooms in the hotel. At intervals along the passages were recesses or alcoves which acted as vantage points from which one could look into the various rooms. The method of viewing was simple ... being a series of false mirrors.
From the various rooms, these mirrors appeared perfectly normal. Any occupants would be completely unaware that they were under observation. They would neither notice anything nor hear anything, since the walls were all well soundproofed. That was one of the advertised luxuries of the hotel!
Victor, however, could not only see everything that took place in any room, he could also hear. Sound came through a small amplifier set above each mirror.
The reasons, then, why Victor Craig did not care about the financial success of his hotel are perhaps more obvious. It was not designed from that point of view. It was, of course, purely designed for his own pleasure.
Without haste, Victor made his way along a series of passageway until he came to the vantage point he had decided upon. He sat down in a well-padded upright armchair, lit a cigarette, and turned a small switch by the side of the mirror before him. Instantly it became as a sheet of glass.
He was looking down from a height of about six feet upon a broad double bed. Upon it lay two figures-that of a young, dark-haired man and a quite pretty fluffy young blonde girl. At that moment they made a quite respectable picture. The man wore a red silk dressing gown, the young woman a kind of flowered house coat. Both were dozing lightly.
Victor glanced to one side. A partly consumed lunch remained on a trolley alongside an empty bottle of champage in an ice-bucket. The newlyweds ... a Mr. and Mrs. Gordon ... had obviously eaten and drunk their fill and were sleeping it off. That boded well. Victor had no doubt that young Mr. Gordon would want another kind of meal as soon as he woke.
Victor remained looking down almost paternally at the couple. The young woman was pretty in a chocolate box kind of way, even if she did not measure up to the standard of some of the beauties who stayed at the hotel. The man was rather commonplace, but at least he had youth and virility on his side.
Victor smiled faintly. The previous night-the first night-had been a bit of a disaster for both of them. The young man had been to hot and eager and his new wife seemingly too tired and too scared. She really was rather naive little thing and Victor suspected that it was she who possessed any money they had. Mr. Gordon had a certain coarseness about his looks.
The whole thing had been a typical example of inexpertise in love-making which could hardly have satisfied either party. A common enough occurence when the wife came to the bed a virgin and the man was not sufficiently experienced. But Victor had not been disappointed. He found it an infringing change from the more sophisticated affairs he was accustomed to observing.
At last the young man stirred and sat up, leaning on one elbow. He looked down at the girl for some time. She was still asleep. Then, very slowly, his hand went to the zip reached the girl's navel and the top part of the coat fell apart to reveal a pair of firm, pert-nippled breasts. There was a certain immaturity and lack of fullness about them, nevertheless they were very well shaped and of a smooth, ivory whiteness.
The young husband certainly seemed to find them quite entrancing. He gazed his fill and his tongue ran over his lips again and again. The effect they had on him was soon evident. There was some kind of movement beneath the red silk of his dressing gown and, in a moment or two, this fell apart. Victor saw he was in full erection. Ahhh ... the impetuosity of youth, he thought with an inward smile. The young man was averagely well made. Nothing exceptional about him, but adequate enough.
On a sudden impulse the young man bent and kissed the complaisant orbs beneath him, taking the girl by the waist at the same time.
She started violently and jerked up with a cry. Her first instinctive action was to try and cover her breasts with her gown-another sign of her immaturity and inexperience.
"Oh ... oh. ... Don...." she gasped, "w-what are you doing? You ... you frightened me ... I ... I was dreaming."
He grinned at her and pulled the top of the gown aside. "What were you dreaming about?" he asked.
She made no reply but a pinkness came into her cheeks as she submitted passively to the fondling of his hands. After a little while, Don Gordon began to kiss her breasts again.
"Do you like that?" he asked.
"I ... I think ... s-so...." she answered weakly. She kept herself rather rigid, and did not touch him with her hands.
"You must learn to relax more," he said, "Remember, we're husband and wife now."
"Yes ... yes...." she answered, clinging suddenly and impulsively to him. A severe case of long-term repression, thought Victor. Lucky she got married when she did or she might have soon become frigid.
The husband, Don, was fast beginning to feel the real heat of his lust. He zipped the gown completely open and his right hand slid down over the white belly to the fair triangle of downy hair. The girl wriggled-half in evasion, half in excitement.
"Oh Terry, I do love you...." he said.
With that he turned away momentarily to unfasten his own gown and remove it. Completely nakked he turned back and crushed her to him. The stiff prick pressed against Terry's belly and Victor saw her arch away nervously. All the same the girl clung to her husband, arms around his neck. It was almost as if she were clinging desperately.
"Oh Don...." she said, "you want me again-so soon? You ... you must love me...."
"I do ... I do...." he answered, kissing her passionately. Victor watched dispassionately as he forced his hand between her thighs. The bride does not appear altogether willing, he thought to himself. No doubt that was a result of the rather crude experience of the previous night. How clumsy young men could be. However, after a minute or so of much kissing and finger titillation, there was a certain amount of relaxation of Terry's thighs. Despite her fears, her own desire could obviously not be denied.
"Oh Don. ... oh Don...." she kept whispering as her little squirms intensified.
Don had got one thigh between hers and was three quarters across her crushing her down. All the same, Victor could still see the eager male fingers working away satisfactorily. No doubt young Don Gordon had been permitted similar privileges before, but had been allowed to go no further. The knowledge that he could, at last, go as far as he liked was obviously inflaming him.
"Terry ... oh Terry ... I love you ... I want you so...." he panted.
Not particularly original love talk, Victor said to himself. There was scope for improvement there too.
"Don ... please ... you ... you won't hurt me ... will you?" gasped Terry. "I ... I'm a little sore...."
Victor grinned. Observing the young and virginal certainly had its compensatory moments.
Don disengaged himself and half sat up. His prick, stiff and hard, swayed over Terry's white belly. It was noticeable how she kept her eyes averted from it.
"I don't want to hurt you, Terry my sweet," he replied. "In fact, I'm going to do something that will make it easier for you." He turned away and opened the drawer of the bedside table. From it he took a jar of some cold cream which he applied lavishly to his organ. Damn decent of you, young fellow, said Victor to himself, his eyes on Terry as she lay there silent, trembling softly, her thighs slightly apart.
Don turned back. "I've put some cream on," he said with a shy grin. "I'm sure it won't hurt at all now...."
Terry smiled shyly in return but made no comment.
Don gulped. "And, another thing," he went on, looking a little embarrassed, "it might be better for you if we ... we ... er ... did it ... another way. I mean ... that is, if you came on top. Do you understand?"
She must be a bit of an idiot if she doesn't was Victor's inner comment. But then, she was rather naive.
"If ... if you think so, Don," she said after a brief silence.
"It's alright ... don't be nervous or shy, darling," said Don. He lay down on his back on the bed and caressed her breasts and thighs lovingly. "Come along, darling ... over on top of me...."
Terry, her face pink with undue modesty and excitement, turned on to her side and then knelt. It was pretty evident she considered this a pretty daring sort of exercise in sex play and was trembling even more. At the same time, she could not but be aware that, in that fashion, she would have some control over the organ which had so fiercely ravaged her previously.
Hesitantly she straddled Don who took her firmly by the flanks. 'That's right, darling ... that's right" he said, his voice thick with desire.
Victor was favored with an enchanting view of the young bride's asscheeks. Most revealing! She really had the most delightful, firmly rounded bottom. Perhaps it was her best feature. The cunt looked as delicately inexperienced as its owner. Yes ... she was quite youthfully enchanting. Victor felt a slight intensification of the pulse of pleasure that throbbed through him ... and. at the same time, it occurred to him how petrified she would have been if she had known she was being observed. Naturally, that was a thought that constantly recurred to Victor during his various observations and it always increased his pleasure.
Rather like a rocket on its launching pad, Don's prick remained quivering erect. There was a sudden nervous anticipatory twitching of Terry's nates as she knelt poised over him. Then she lowered herself fractionally.
"Oh ... Don...." she whispered.
She was so inexperienced, she still needed help. Don provided it as best he could by gripping his prick and guiding it to her cunt lips. He gave a small upward thrust of his haunches so that he just penetrated her. There came a little gasp.
"Now ... darling it's up to you...." said Don thickly-his voice indicated that he would not be capable of standing much undue delay.
"Yes ... oh yes ... darling...."
Terry lowered herself a little and the length slid up and in. It went in a couple of inches and then the young woman stopped. Victor saw her pinkbrown arsehole twitch and there was a wriggling of her bottom. She really likes it all right, he thought, but is just scared.
"Yes ... yes...." said Don in a choked voice. It was obviously a considerable effort for him to stop himself siezing her buttocks and pulling her down. His hands ran rapidly up and down the splayed thighs. "Lower, darling, lower...." he pleaded.
Terry wriggled ... slipped down another inch ... then gasped. Another inch ... and then another gasp. The cream was obviously helping, tight as she still was.
Experimentally, her haunches rose and then fell again. Once more. Up and down. But still no more than four inches of prick penetrated her.
"Yes ... that's it, darling ... yes ... that's wonderful, darling ... like that...." came Don's half muffled voice. His mouth was buried in the softness of her smooth shoulder.
Encouraged by her lover-and by her own mounting pleasure and excitement-Terry began to undulate up and down more rapidly. By her action, Victor could see she was bearing down so that her clitoris was stimulated by Don's firm rigidity. What was more, almost without her knowing it, Terry was taking more and more of Don's prick into her. It was only a fractional amount each time she wriggled down, but it was definite.
After quite a little while she had three quarters of the rigid organ into her and was sliding up and down with an inexpert, convulsive kind of abandon.
"That's wonderful, darling ... w-wonderful...." panted Don. Victor could see his lust-filled face, the mouth slack, over Terry's shoulder. I bet she feels beautiful tight, he thought Lucky young devil. "And ... and it doesn't ... hurt any more, does it?" he asked a little anxiously.
"No ... no ... it doesn't ... not any more ... not now...." Terry's voice was rather breathless.
As if encouraged by this admission, Don's hands clasped Terry's jelly-quivering buttocks. With a quick movement he pulled her down so that she was buried in him to the hilt. Terry squealed ... but it was a squeal far more of pleasure than of pain.
For several moments they wrestled, locked together ... while Don obviously savoured the deep, hot delights of his new bride and she, doubtless for the first time, knew the pleasure of having a strong prick buried fully in her, without pain and with a fierce, mounting joy.
Victor lit another cigarette. He did not feel quite as calm inwardly as he outwardly looked. This little novices performance was rather more stimulating than he had imagined it would be.
Then Terry's haunches suddenly rose-obviously of their own volition. They rose until only the tip of Don's knob was in her. His straining prick glistened with cream and the warm wetness of his bride.
For a moment she remained poised-quivering. Then, with a quick movement she jerked down, her rounded buttocks slapping on Don's thighs, the cock ramming right up into her.
A long, quivering cry of delight came from her throat. The sound was the epitome of sex pleasure. It could have been heard alone, in abstract, and would have evoked the act. Don did not cry. With mouth slack, he grunted with delight. His hands continued to squeeze and fondle the soft nates that wriggled beneath them.
"Darling ... darling...." he half gasped as Terry began to rise and fall under the fierce drive of her own desire. "I ... I' ... want you ... to come ... first ... but please ... oh please ... be quick...."
Victor shook his head almost sorrowfully. It was a pity the young man did not have more control. He would have liked to see the girl worked up to a real frenzy. Still, he could well understand that his youth and the hot tightness of a fresh young cunt made that very difficult. One also had to add the fact that, for the first time, he must be aware that his bride was getting real pleasure. That would be very stimulating.
Finding that the harder and faster she drove the prick into her, the more pleasure she got, Terry began to work with abandon. Her haunches lost their rhythm and began to jerk up and down in convulsive spasms. Her breath began to rasp and her whole body to shake. The rasping sound grew louder and more high-pitched. She is coming alright ... any moment.. thought Victor. How quick these youngsters were. How urgent! It was just a question really as to whether Don could hold out long enough for her to have a full orgasm.
"A-Are you coming ... d-darling ... are you?" Don's voice was almost a desparate croack.
"Y-Y-Ye ... esss ... y-y-yee ... esss!" cried Terry, her bottom working frenziedly.
It was all too much for Don. He had to unleash himself too. Clasping the jerking buttocks, his flanks rutted violently upwards. There was perhaps some five more seconds of squealing, gasping frenzy ... and then he spunked violently up into her. It was at that precise moment, Terry achieved her full climax.
By as much a matter of luck as anything, they had achieved perfection. At least, a form of it.
Groaning and moaning they lay locked together. Victor continued his observation for quite a while. He enjoyed watching the soft quivering of Terry's young bottom. They were very relaxed, very happy with each other.
Good. Victor smiled in his fatherly way again. He liked to see people happy ... as well as watch them making each other happy. For a moment, it seemed to him, as he restored the mirror with the switch, that it was almost because of his benevolence they were so happy. A foolish thought. perhaps, but no matter. He rose from his chair and made his way along the secret passageway that connected all the rooms.
CHAPTER TWO
Victor Craig was making his way back towards his own office when a thought occurred to him. It might well be worth while taking a quick look at Lorraine Duclos. That attractive young woman rather puzzled him. What was she doing at his hotel anyway? Was she hiding from someone-or was she waiting for a lover?
She had been at the hotel for three days and, as far as he knew, hadn't been out of the place-except on to the balcony of her room. She had taken all her meals in private. It certainly was a little odd. But then, some of these young actresses were. They got so steamed up emotionally. Lorraine Duclos, he knew, was twenty five or so and a player of minor roles at the Comedie Francais.
She had made quite a name for herself several years previously but had not yet reached the heights expected of her.
Could she, wondered Victor, be contemplating suicide for some reason? He hoped not. He didn't like that kind of publicity. Checking his list, he confirmed Lorraine was occupying room 12 and made his way to that alcove observation point. He operated the switch of the mirror-which was larger than the one which looked into the Gordon suite. From the room, it operated more as a dressing mirror since it was full length. Quite a number of the false mirrors were of this type and they had considerable advantages from the viewing point of view.
The mirror turned to clear glass-and Victor had rather a shock. By an add chance at that moment, Lorraine happened to be staring close into the mirror. Her face was only a few inches from his. That had happened with others on a few occasions and it always shook him a bit. It was an almost uncanny sensation.
Lorraine's features were beautiful even if they were rather over-made-up in that artificial way that actress's employ. Close to, however, one could see the small beginnings of lines around the wide-set brown eyes and at the corners of her mouth. Evidence of a certain amount of hard living. Victor correctly guessed that Lorraine was beginning to worry about her looks now that the first bloom of youth had passed. She really had little reason to ... but women were far more concerned about that sort of thing than men.
In any case, she had other attributes, as Victor was not slow to note after the first shock of the close-up. For the first time he could see her when she was not either closed or wearing a robe. She were only a bra. and pantie set of pale blue, a pair of flesh-coloured stockings supported by a belt and a pair of brown, crocodile high heels. She looked very fetching in the brief, revealing garments and Victor, who was a stern judge in such matters, rated her figure highly. The brassiere acted as an adorment rather than a support to the firm, thrusting breasts. They were a little above-average in size, but not over-large. Lorraine's waist was exceptionally slim and this emphasized the smooth, swelling curves of her hips. It seemed that Victor had but to stretch out his hand and he could touch her. He rather wished he could.
"No...." said Lorraine Duclos, softly into the mirror. "You are not too old yet. There is still time. He will choose me ... and it will be my biggest success."
She took some green eyeshadow from a beauty box on a table by her her side and applied it to her lids. Rather too much, thought Victor, but it suited her mass of rich auburn hair. Then she applied a flick of lipstick and pressed her lips together. A further close appraisal of her face and she seemed satisfied.
Lorraine Duclos turned away from the mirror to replace the beauty box in a case which lay on the bed. Thus Victor was favored with a rear view of her harms. A luscious bottom quivered beneath the tight panties. Her back was straight, square and smooth. Yes ... a real peach. What a pity she was on her own, he thought, he would have very much liked to her in action.
Having replaced the box, Lorraine came back towards the mirror. She had a graceful, rather prancing stride and her breasts bounced gently with her movements. Victor felt the desire stirring more strongly in him. Standing before the mirror, Lorraine spoke introspectively again.
"If she were here," she said, "if he compared us ... he would choose me ... yes ... I am sure...."
Her hands went up behind her back and in a moment the tiny pale blue bra, had been unfastened and removed. The superb full and firm orbs thrust nakedly before Victor's gaze. They certainly needed no support-and doubtless Lorraine was confirming the fact. She turned sideways to the left ... and then to the right. Victor saw her smoothe, soft-quivering beauty from all angles. Her hands clasped them and she firmed the orbs upwards, sighing gently. "Hers are not as good," she said, with a little satisfied smile. The gentle massage had the effect of hardening the coral pink-brown nipples.
Then, as if on a sudden impulse, Lorraine pushed down the tight panties over the swell of her hips. They slid down her long limbs and she stepped from them At once Victor saw that her pubic hairs were shaved-no doubt because she often were tights on the stage. The lush hump of her sex curved fleshily, the outer lips of her cunt revealed.
Victor felt the heat of his blood; his palms felt damp. He lusted for this young, shapely beauty with the auburn hair. She was so near, yet so far. But, perhaps, if she stayed long enough, one never knew! He had made plenty of conquests in his time at the hotel, often in the most un-likely circumstances.
"He must contact me soon," Lorraine said. "I will give him two more days."
Lorraine turned and moved away. Victor watched her lovely nakedness disappear into the dressing room. As, with a slight sense of frustration, he switched off the mirror, he wondered who "he" was. Certainly the prospects looked interesting.
* * *
Victor made his back through the "safe" into his own office. Desire still throbbed through him ... and there was a need to satisfy it. Fortunately that presented no problems.
Among the staff at "chez Victor" were six "maids." They were all hand-picked by Victor mainly for their looks-most of them being ex show-girls. They were exceedingly well paid and served the guests excellently. They also served Victor in every way he wanted. That was understood from the start ... part of their contract you might say. None of them objected in any way to this arrangement. If they had done they wouldn't have been employed. By and large all six of them got on pretty well together, though there was a certain amount of bitchiness if one of them was thought to be receiving too many favors from the boss!
Victor went into the private quarters which led off his office, having unlocked his office door and then glanced at the duty roster. One of the girls had a day's leave, two others had the afternoon off. That left Yvonne, Simone and Rossana.
He smiled as he picked up the internal telephone. It would be Simone. She had the same colored hair as Lorraine.
"Staff quarters," said a woman's voice.
"Is Simone about?"
"Yes, boss...."
"Ask her to bring me a bottle of champagne," he said.
"At once, boss...."
The phone clicked dead ... and a couple of minutes later there was a knock on his door. Meanwhile Victor had stripped down to a pair of jockey trunks only. Just as Lorraine had done he surveyed himself in the full-length mirror ... and he found himself well satisfied by the appearance of his tanned, well muscled 'body. He was as fit as a fiddle and, by God, didn't he feel like a good fuck!
Simone gave him a roguish look and and exaggerated curtesy as she came in with an ice-bucket and tray with two glasses. She was a saucy young minx and as hot as Hell.
"Good afternoon, sir," she said, emphasizing the mode of address. "It is good to see you ... especially like that...."
"More respect, young lady," said Victor with a broad grin, "or I'll have to smack your beautiful bottom!"
Simone put down the bucket and tray and, turning with her back to Victor, flipped up the short skirt of her black maid's dress to reveal a sexy pair of black-and-rose net panties.
"I think I might rather enjoy that," she said archly.
Victor went over and gave her a pat on her right buttock cheek. "Don't try me too hard ... I might enjoy it too."
Simone turned and gave him a hug and a kiss on the mouth. It was good to feel her rounded breasts moving beneath the material of her dress, pressing against his bare chest. He slid a hand up under her skirt and felt the firmness of her bare thigh above her stocking.
"I am going to fuck you," he said softly in her ear.
Simone gave a sexy little wriggle and pressed closer. "Good," she said, "I couldn't ask for anything better."
Victor smiled. The best part of it was that Simone really meant that "But first" he said, "we'll have some champagne ... while you do a slow srip."
The girl poured the champagne, the soft auburn hair falling over her rather gypsy-type features as she bent forward. Simone was twenty two and came from the south, near Perpignan. Victor not only found her a most satisfying playmate, he was genuinely fond of her.
He lay on the bed, first having removed his trunks. Still slack, his prick lay long and thick between his strong thighs. Victor was well aware of one of the main reasons why the girls liked him so much!
Lying there, sipping the champagne, he watched Simone do the slow strip he had asked for. She did it very well ... very titillatingly. The effect on Victor was soon very evident. His prick thickened, stiffened and reared massively by the time she was down to the saucy rose-and-black net panties. She leant over him, breasts dancing and brushing his face.
Victor drank in the warm scent of her ... felt the softness of her. The word he always associated with Simone was "ripe." He felt her hand size his prick, gently but firmly.
"Oh you lovely big hunk," she said, her hot wet mouth pressing against his. "You're a man and a half, you are...."
The words were rather apt ... for Victor in erection was getting on for half the size again of the average man, both in length and thickness. He grinned at her as she knelt with her breasts dangling in his face and then, with a sudden movement, he ripped off her panties.
"Oh you beast...." she hissed, biting his neck, "now I'll have to buy a new set"
"I might even buy them for you," said Victor. One of his hands slipped between her thighs and he felt the warm wetness of her cunt She was more than ready for him.
"Do you want me to suck you?" she asked in a husky voice.
Victor shook his head as he nuzzled her full soft breasts. "No," he said, "it's your cunt I want today."!
He gripped her firmly and twisted her over so that her back was flat against the bed. "Brute...." she said, "this is almost rape...."
Victor laughed. A funny sort of rape, he thought, when a girl's thighs were splayed wide and her haunches lifted in urgent invitation. But he knew what Simone meant. Often he spent a long time in previous love-play-till a girl was roused almost beyond all bearing. On that occasion, however, he was not in the mood for such preliminaries. What he wanted was a straight forward fuck-and he intended to have it!
One of Simone's slim white hands still clasped his prick ... and she guided it avidly to the centre of all her desire. Victor's big knob slipped in as his palms clasped beneath her luscious buttocks. Simone's arms went around his neck and she kissed him wide-mouthed and passionately as, for a few moments, he remained poised.
Knowing she enjoyed a certain amount of brutality, Victor employed no finesse. With a single violent thrust of his haunches, he buried himself deep within her. It was like thrusting into hot liquid velvet.
"Aaaahhhh!" gasped Simone, her back arching up, her head going back. Filled as every woman really wished to be filled, she squirmed with joy.
"Brute...." she said in a strangled voice, "oh you big, b-beautiful ... brute...."
Victor savored the exquisite feel of her, continuing to clasp her buttocks firmly, remaining rammed in for some full ten seconds. Then he began to fuck....
He employed ryhthmic, thudding strokes ... drawing out to the limit and plunging right home. Perfectly in control, he gave Simone some twenty to twenty five such strokes, working her up swiftly to a frenzy of delight. She clung to him ever more fiercely, her bottom wriggling with a wild delight.
"Oh cherie ... cherie...." she moaned, "f-fuck me ... ooh ... ohh ... fuck me ... till I d-die...."
Victor felt the first orgasm shudder through her, delighting in the tight-gripping reactions of the hot young cunt ... and then he relaxed a little.
He withdrew till very little more than his knob was in Simone, working very gently in and out. She sighed contentedly and he felt her bearing down so that she got the maximum pressure and pleasure on her clitoris. Her legs were clasped around his thighs, her ankles locked. Victor continued in this fashion for some time until he began, about every ten or fifteen seconds, to thrust fully in. Each sudden, violent thrust made Simone squirm and squeal with joy.
"Ah ... darling ... darling...." she cried, "you're s-so big ... such a wonderful man ... aaanhhh!"
Victor knew the pleasure of giving pleasure as well as receiving it. If he had been so minded he had sufficient control to go like that for some ten minutes or so ... and reduce Simone to a jelly of delight. But he was not so minded. He was in the mood for a quick consummation of the desires that had been roused in him that afternoon.
He buried his face in Simone's auburn hair and switched his mind to imagining it was Lorraine he was fucking. Luscious, naked Lorraine....
Victor resumed the relentless full-driving rhythm of his prick, thudding home, fierce and hard. Again ... again ... again ... and again. Lorraine ... Lorraine ... his mind throbbed ... this is what it would feel like to fuck you ... you ... you beauty. He continued thus with Simone crying out with joy for a full minute ... and then he knew his relentless, mounting lust could no longer be controlled. Simone's cunt had become a hot living thing, gripping and working frenziedly. He abandoned all control and fucked with a savage fury until the ultimate ecstasy burst violently upon him.
Simone cried out hoarsely again and again above his gasping grunts as his prick juddered and jerked within her, unlashing the jetting streams of lust.
* * *
They lay for a long time together, silent and slaked. Simone kissed him gently on the neck and cheeks from time to time and stroked his close-cropped hair. It was as if she was mutely giving grateful thanks.
"I'd rather be fucked by you than any one else in the world ... you know that Victor, don't you?" she said at last.
He kissed her. "It's very sweet of you to say it," he answered. "In return I will tell you that you are hot and sexy little number."
Simone made a little face. "Better than any of the other girls though?" she asked plaintively.
Victor gave her a gentle slap and withdrew his flaccid prick from her. "You know better than to start bringing personalities in to it," he said. "Let's leave that you take some beating, eh?"
She smiled. "I just wondered if my cunt felt different to the others," said Simone, "or whether I could do anything to please you more."
Victor looked at her fondly. "Every cunt is the same ... yet different in its own subtle way," he said. "And you certainly know how to use the one you possess."
Simone looked satisfied. "I'm not really jealous," she said, "as long as I get my share."
"You will ... never fear," Victor said. "Now ... go and run a bath for me. I've got to get dress and do some work. This place doesn't run itself, you know."
Obediently Simone rose to do his bidding ... running across the room with lovely baked breasts and bottom bouncing and quivering. Victor smiled fondly. She was certainly a very sweet girl.
CHAPTER THREE
In black tie and double-breasted evening suit, Victor made himself affable to a number of the guests in the cocktail bar before dinner. The Gordons were there and he noticed that Terry looked particularly radiant. That satisfying little exercise during the afternoon had obviously done her the world of good. It was more than likely, too, he reflected, that she had had another piece of the flesh since then. Don was certainly young and virile enough.
"Is everything to your liking?" he enquired.
"Yes, Monsieur Victor," breathed Terry happily. Don nodded, looking a shade embarrassed, Victor smiled inwardly. He would very much have liked to have been able to tell the fluffy little blonde that he thought she had a charming little bottom!
"Enjoy yourselves," he said, moving on. They looked a each other and smiled shyly as he left. Now that the ice was broken it was obvious they had every intention of doing so, Victor made a mental note to look in on them in a day or two to see how much their expertise had improved.
It was after dinner when one of the maid's came up to him and told him that there was a gentleman in the foyer asking for him. Victor went at once and found himself confronted by a short, balding and rather paunchy middle-aged man. He had a rather oily appearance and a prominent nose. A Jew if ever I saw one, though Victor at once-middle-European probably and stinking with money by the look of his clothes. All the same, not at all a pleasant looking individual.
"Yes, sir, can I help you?" he asked.
"My name is Grunwald," said the man, leaning forward and talking confidentially. He had the soft and musical Viennese accent. "I believe you have a Mademoiselle Duclos staying here. I should like to see her please."
Lorraine! Victor's interest was at once alerted. Could this be the man she was waiting for? He scarcely looked her type. Well in his fifties and gross with it. But, on the other hands, if it was some star role she was angling for, he looked the type who could give it her. Victor saw that his hands were small, white and puffy, each carrying a gold ring. It hardly seemed likely she would relish the feel of them on her beautiful body!
"That is so, sir," he said politely. "Shall I announce you?"
"That will not be necessary," answered Grunwald "she has been expecting me-for some time."
"Very well Her room number is 12. Take the lift if you wish, sir."
The fat Jew waddled away and Victor at once made swiftly for his office. This should certainly be interesting, he thought. He locked the door and made his way through the "safe." In less than a couple of minutes he was at the observation alcove to room 12. Quickly he operated the mirror switch.
Looking pale, with hands clenched by her side, Lorraine Duclos stood to the right of the room. She wore a plain but obviously expensive white dress, short length, with a broad gold belt nipping in her waist. The gown was enticingly low cut and around her neck was a simple chain necklace of gold. Her high heel were white with gold fastenings.
Grunwald had obviously just entered and, having locked the door, was in the act of putting the key in his pocket. He turned and a slow and rather lascivious smile touched his fleshy lips.
"Good evening, Lorraine," he said, "I hope you haven't been getting too worried that I wasn't coming."
Lorraine shook her head. She was obviously nervous. "N-No ... Max. But it is good to see you-at last. Will you have a drink?"
"Brandy, please, my dear," he said. He rubbed his soft white hands together, looking at her intently all the time. His tongue flicked over his lips ... and on his face was an expression rather like that of a cat contemplating a mouse it had toyed with for a long time and was about to eat.
Lorraine poured two stiff brandies, handed one to Max Grunwald and she drank hers with surprising speed. Max took out a gold case and put a cigarette in his mouth. He did not offer her one and it was she who came to him to offer him a lighter. Lorraine took a cigarette from a box on the table and was soon puffing nervously. A right bastard, thought Victor. How can she stab him? But he thought he was beginning to know why....
His guess was that Max Grunwald was a big impresario. Indeed, he was more or less sure he had seen his name quoted in connection with some of the big shows put on in recent years. Lorraine Duclos would be desperate for a big part to lift her from the backwater into which her career seemed to have drifted. She wanted it soon and urgently, fearing that her good looks would not last for ever.
Thus Max Grunwald knew the power he had over this beautiful young woman. Many years in the theatre would have taught that the desire of such a woman to reach the top-to be fully in the limelight-could be incredibly strong. In some it amounted almost to a mania and such a woman would put her objective above all else.
"Well, Max, have you decided?" asked Lorraine tensely.
Max sipped his brandy. "Practically," he answered.
"Tell me!" Lorraine said with her voice vibrant.
She took a step forward, her hands clasped together.
"Let us say it rests between you and one other," Max said.
"Patti Lamont...." Lorraine said between clenched teeth. Her eyes flashed hate.
"Yes ... Max said. "And I have seen her. Lorraine. There remains only you. You remember what I said? Part of our pact, you might call it?"
Lorraine nodded and her head dropped for a moment so that part of her long auburn hair fell her lovely face. She bit her lips. "Yes," she answered. "I have to prove to you that I am a first-class actress."
Max smiled slowly. "Quite so," he said, "The part you play has to convince me that you like me. That you are happy to obey me and please me in every way."
Victor saw Max Grunwald's plan very clearly in that moment. It was a variation of the age-old theme of the "casting couch." He found the situation most intriguing and, although he did not care for the paunchy Jew as a man. he admired him for his enterprise. He also envied him. It must be most enjoyable for one of his temperament to have such a woman in ones power.
"I know you won't like it," went on Max, "and that probably I even revolt you. But you must remember, my dear, that I have a rather odd temperament-some would call it a sadistic one-and that knowledge will add to my pleasure."
Lorraine's hands clenched again and she bit her lips furiously. She was very pale.
"Have you got the contract?" she asked in a low voice.
Max Grunwald drew a document from his pocket and handed it to her. "It just needs my signature-and I sincerely hope I shall be able to give it you at the end of the evening."
"I have no guarantee then?" Lorraine said as she studied the contract carefully.
Max shook his head. "I am afraid that entirely depends on your performance." he said.
Very clever, thought Victor. It would be most interesting to see if Lorraine's desire for theatrical fame and fortune was strong enough to enable her to go through with the affair. He sensed that Max was not going to make it very pleasant for her. The fat pig was the type who would want her make her humiliate herself ... degrade herself.
"Alright then," said Lorraine after a long minute of silence. "I am in your hands...."
Max Grunwald nodded complacently-but there was a glitter of lust in his small, dark eyes.
"Just one final thing," he said, "I want you to remember, Lorraine, that what goes on between us this evening is something apart. No one else will see-no one will ever know. That I assure you. The thought may help you, I think. Of course, I shall always know-and remember. That will be part of my pleasure. But, I repeat, no one else will ever know of your submission."
Victor smiled-and then sat forward eagerly on the edge of his chair as Max patted the couch. "Sit down, my dear," he said, "we have plenty of time ... the whole evening before us. Let us get better acquainted."
Lorraine came out of a kind of daze. She flashed a falsely theatrical smile at Max. It was rather as if she had just received her cue.
"O.K.," she said brightly. "How about another drink first, Max?"
"No ... I'm alright thanks. But help yourself."
Lorraine poured herself a really good stiff one. It was obvious she hoped to dull her senses somewhat with the brandy ... and could hardly be blamed. She drained her glass and then sat down on the couch a little way from Max. Her tense nervousness was apparent as she gave Max another false smile.
"Nearer," he said.
Lorraine moved closer and, without saying a word, Max slipped one podgy white hand up underneath her short skirt. She started violently and instinctively clamped her own hand down.
"That's not very good acting," said Max, pausing.
"I ... I'm sorry," replied Lorraine huskily, "I ... I'm not exactly in the part yet, I suppose. Please ... be a little patient, Max...."
She removed her hand and Max's hand moved higher up. He would be fondling the bare tops of her thighs, thought Victor, with fingers brushing against the flimsiness of her panties.
If that was something he had wanted to do for a long time ... something that had been denied him ... Victor could well imagine the pleasure it gave Max. He saw that Max had turned so that he was lying partly across Lorraine, nuzzling the softness of her white shoulder. The thick lips would be wet and lascivious ... and the effect they, and his hand, were having upon Lorraine was very evident from the expression on her face. He could see it above Max's back ... the eyes wide with distaste, the nostrils faring a little with disgust.
"Oh ... Max ... p-please...." she half moaned, half squirming away.
"You'd better get into your part ... and quick!" Max almost snarled the words. The velvet gloves were obviously coming off. He was determined to get what he wanted-or else! Lorraine realized it. That could be seen by her expression. At the same time, Victor saw her summon herself, resolving to go through with it whatever it cost. Good, he thought, she has guts and determination, this one. She too was going to get what she wanted!
"Max!" she cried chockingly, her arms going around his neck. "Do what you want ... ask what you want!"
"That's more like it," he mumbled, his face down to the cleft of her breasts. Victor could almost feel the delight and desire that went through him as he realized that Lorraine was finally abandoning herself.
In this fashion, for several minutes, he slavered over her face, neck and upper breasts, while his hand continued to paw and fumble beneath her skirt. Of course, there was no real need for him to put up with the restriction of her clothing and Victor reckoned he did so purely for his own amusement. Having often seen Lorraine similar clothed, and having wanted to do what he was doing but been prevented, he was vastly enjoying his new freedom. Victor could well understand it. There was always something particularly erotically exciting about putting a hand up a woman's skirt. It had its own particular fascination, even if it was on a different plane to having her naked.
Victor noticed that Lorraine seemed to be becoming rather more co-operative. Perhaps the brandy was beginning to work; perhaps she had managed to suppress her distaste under the drive of her own objective. Then, at last, Max released her. Lorraine looked a little dishevelled and her eyes were rather wild. She was breathing heavily-as was Max. His fleshy face looked flushed and there were beads of perspiration on his balding head. With a forced air of calm, he leant back on the couch and lit a cigarette. He puffed the cigarette straight into Lorraine's face.
"I've known better actresses," he said.
Lorraine looked a bit desperate. "For God's sake, Max, give me a little time." She attempted a look of bravado. "It takes a little while to learn a part, you know."
Max nodded slowly and a smile flickered over his thick lips as Lorraine rose and went over to pour herself another brandy. The pleasure he was getting from the situation positively ozzed from him.
"Alright," he said. "We'll overlook the preliminaries." His voice became rather thick. "Let's get down to it, shall we. You can start by stripping."
Lorraine's lovely features quivered. She moved towards the dressing room. "Do it here ... in front of me," said Max. Defeat flickered in Lorraine's eyes. This she knew was the paint of no return. She Shrugged. Things were being made somewhat easier for her by the uninhibiting effects of the brandy.
"You're the boss," she said with an affected kind of gaiety. But all the same Victor thought he heard a trace of something like hysteria in her voice.
Lorraine unbuckled the gold belt about her slim waist and unzipped the side of her dress. Then, with a swift movement she pulled it off her shoulders and down. It slipped to the floor and she stepped from it, the next instant bending down and tossing it to the far side of the room.
"There!" she cried, executing a pirouetting movement, "I hope you find me satisfactory, sir!"
Max's pigging eyes glinted. He obviously did. Lorraine wore a sexy bra and pantie set of white net, interlaced with a gold motive. The belt which supported her stockings was small and of tinselled gold; her stockings were of the sheerest flesh-colored nylon. Quite ravishing indeed and Victor was aware of it as Max obviously was! Even a young woman with a moderate figure would have looked enticing in such titillatedly revealing garb ... Lorraine with her superb shapely lushness looked quite, quite stunning.
"Yes, my girl," said Max thickly, rubbing his small white palms together, "I must admit you have merit." He puffed furiously at his cigarette and then stubbed it out. "And now I want to see those lovely tits of yours-as they really are."
Lorraine swallowed nervously. Her face was becoming flushed a light pink-the effect of the alcohol and her mounting shame. "My master commands" she said, with a forced lightness in her voice, "and I obey."
She unfastened the bra, and it slipped away, dropping to the floor. Her big, lush orbs bounced out in all their naked glory. Max licked his thick, wet lips.
"Come here," he said, "here, on your knees-by me...."
Lorraine half stumbled forward, her lovely, firm half melons bouncing and quivering deliciously. She sank to her knees and Victor saw that the look of desperation was in her wide-set eyes again.
Max's podgy hand came out ... and then he paused. There was an evil smirk on his face. "Of course, my dear" he said, "you do want me to play with your tits, don't you? I mean, you do like it?"
Lorraine gulped and her auburn head tossed back. She squared her shoulders in a kind of defiance, thrusting her breasts invitingly forward. "Yes ... Max...." she answered in a husky voice. "Y-You know I do...."
Max grinned broadly and his hands went out eagerly to the ripe fruit that awaited them. "It was the answer I wanted," he said.
But how much truth there was in it was quickly apparent by the way Lorraine shuddered under him mauling-squeezing touch. One could almost see her flesh creeping. Nevertheless she managed to check her flinching recoils as Max took his sensuous fill of her resilient warm softness. He mauled her, almost brutally, at will. Then he bent to use his mouth ... kissing and licking avidly ... sucking her nipples until she cried out ... slavering over her until the whole of her breasts gleamed wetly. Eyes half closed, Lorraine endured it all only murmuring incoherently from time to time.
"You like it?" demanded Max, his voice filled with lust.
"Yes...." she answered chokingly. She bit her lips and obviously made a tremendous effort. "I ... I love it...." she said, "please don't stop, Max ... please...."
Max grinned in sadistic delight "You certainly have a couple of beauties there," he said. "How would you like to have a prick between them?"
Lorraine gasped and her eyes opened wide in shock.
"I ... er ... I d-don't know...." she answered, "I've ... never ... I mean ... I haven't ... ever...."
Her voice trailed off. "Perhaps you'll have that pleasure later," Max said.
Victor felt the throb of his own mounting excitement. There was no doubt Max meant to go the whole way with this young beauty. How strong was she? How far could she make herself go? Frankly, Victor hoped it would be all the way. And, having started, it seemed to him that might well be so. Step by step, Max would load her down the path of degradation. Each step down would become progressively easier for her.
"And now," Max said, "we'll have those pretty little panties off ... so that I can examine your cunt and that beautiful bottom of yours!"
CHAPTER FOUR
Lorraine bent forward, her hands went over her face. A deep sob shook her. Was she going to break? Victor waited tensely. He sincerely hoped not. Then Lorraine removed her hands and he could see the strain in her face. "May I have another drink, Max?" she asked in a humble voice.
"Of course, help yourself," he answered.
Lorraine did so-liberally-and then returned. She always moved with attractive, half-prancing gait. What a beauty she was! Victor glanced at Max. His piggy eyes were gleaming brightly and there were even more beads of sweat on his bald pate.
With a sexily sinuous movement, Lorraine lowered her panties and stepped from them. Then, standing directly before Max, she tossed them away. She was naked but for her flimsy belt, stockings and high heels. These items added to her sexy appearance.
"There," she said in the defiant tone she had used before, "I hope I please you." A deeper flush had spread to her cheeks.
Max nodded slowly. "Very nice," he said. "And I must say I rather like that shaven effect. Nothing hidden ... a really naked cunt." He smiled. "It could belong to a schoolgirl," he said. "But rather a big one." Lorraine flushed more deeply and her eyes flashed angrily. All the same she managed to control herself. She had realized it was Max's purpose to humiliate her and had already steeled herself for it.
"Well ... show me your cunt, girl," said Max. "Legs astride ... and stick it up!"
Lorraine shivered all over. It was another pace down the steps of degradation. Her head hung a little as she placed her hands on her hips, straddled her long limbs and provocatively thrust her lower belly forward. She stood no more than a pace before Max and every detail of her fleshily suculent cunt was blatantly revealed to him.
Max feasted his eyes in silence. Silence, that is, but for his own heavy breathing. It was an exquisite moment for him ... one that well satisfied his sadistic lust for power over a woman and his desire to degrade her.
"Very nice," he said at last. 'Tell me, do you use it a lot?"
Lorraine's features quivered. "Max ... please...." she whispered. "Well-do you?"
She shook her head. "N-No ... I'm not really ... like that ... "
"Don't tell me you're a virgin!"
"No ... of course not...."
"Well, then, let's say that you are prepared to use it to advance your career," Max said. It was a cruel shaft-all the more cruel because of the basic element of truth in it. Lorraine's eyes suddenly seemed dewy wet with a sheen of tears.
"If you like to put it that way," she said.
"I do ... trollop...."
The word was like a blow in the face to Lorraine and once again she had fight for control of her temper and try and ignore the wound to her pride. Once again she succeeded. Victor was pleased to note the strength of her will and determination.
"Alright," said Max at length, "now let me have a look at that shapely backside of yours. Get right down on your hands and knees ... no ... the other way round, girl ... I told you I wanted to look at it, didn't I?"
Lorraine who had got down on hands and knees, twisted herself round so that her rear was more or less facing Max. Her position, fortunately, also gave Victor a perfect view. Yes ... Max was right ... it certainly was shapely. Two luscious, smooth white curves and deep cleft.
"Up with it more ... curve it ... make it look inviting," said Max. "Come along my girl, do I have to tell you everything. You're acting remember!"
Recalling the purpose of her ordeal, no doubt, Lorraine displayed her naked asscheeks with a markedly increased seductiveness and lack of inhibition. The cleft between her nates widened as she bent more, curving round and thrusting out her bottom, and thus both the ring of her arsehole and slit of her cunt were well revealed. Max contemplated the spectacle with overt, lecherous satisfaction. The wetness of his thick lips had increased, his flabby face was suffused with heightened color.
Victor also found the greatest pleasure in this enchanting display and the fact that Lorraine still wore her belt, stockings and high heels seemed to add to the sexiness of the scene.
Then, with a sudden forward-leaning movement, Max's right hand swung through the air and he slapped Lorraine resoundingly across her bottom. The temptation of the soft, white curves had proved too much! Lorraine uttered a shriek and twisted violently round, hands clawing. "Y-ow ... oww ... ooohh!" she gaped. "Oh no ... not that ... that I won't stand for!"
The pink imprint of Max's palm was upon her bottom ... her eyes glared furiously ... her breasts heaved in outraged indignation.
"Alright ... alright...." Max raised a placatory palm. "It was on an impulse, my dear ... just too tempting. I know I can't afford to mark you, since you wear tights so often" Max leant closer to her. "But I'll tell you something, Lorraine, quite frankly. It would give me the greatest pleasure to put you across my knees and smack your bottom hard. Better still to have you tied down and lay a cane across it!"
Max spoke with a venomous, sadistic grate to his voice and there was no doubt he meant it. Lorraine flinched back and paled a little. For the first time she was more frightened than angry or shamed.
"But don't worry," went on Max, "I'm not going to. As I say, I can't afford to, under present circumstances. But I'll let you into a secret. I satisfy that little sexual quirk of mine by paying a certain young lady very well indeed. If ever you find yourself down on your uppers, perhaps you'd like to volunteer for the job?"
Lorraine looked for the moment as if she were going to strike him and the effort to restrain herself was obviously enormous.
Victor had guessed that Max was an active, physical sadist as well as a mental one. He didn't envy the poor girl who had to submit to his cruelty, however much she was paid. God ... she must need the money badly!
"Alright, back on your hands and knees, backside well up ... I enjoy that view...." Max said.
With clenched teeth, Lorraine turned and obeyed. Her asscheeks curved high, her head dipped low, the auburn hair trailing on the carpet. Victor felt she was near to a semi-hysterical flood of tears. But they did not come. She really was quite a tough cookie ... no doubt due to a number of years on the stage.
Victor watched intently as Max Grunwald now rose from the couch. He sensed that the second stage of this intriguing session was about to begin. He was right ... for, without haste, Max began to take off his clothes, folding each garment neatly one by one, and placing it on a nearby chair. Soon he stood completely naked, with Lorraine still seemingly unaware of the transformation as she remained with head bowed to the floor.
Perhaps it need hardly be said that Max looked even more repulsive nude than when clothed. His blubbery fatness seemed greater, his paunch even more gross, his legs shorter and arms longer. To add to an obscene ape-like appearance, he was unusually hairy on the front of his body. There were even tufts on his back. It was rather strange in view of the almost complete baldness of his head ... the head that was now pimpled with sweat beads. Victor was used to looking at naked bodies, both male and female, of varying shapes, sizes, of proportions good and bad. He was quite a connoiseur. Max, he reckoned, was certainly one of the more repellent looking specimens he had seen for a long time. One could certainly not have called him sexually well endowed either. Had Lorraine Ducos really quite realized what she was in for when she had made her pact with Max Grunwald? It certainly hardly seemed possible ... and although she might have thought she had been severely tested already, there was worse to come yet.
"Alright, Lorraine," said Max, "you can get up now." I was obviously a moment of the keennest pleasure for him. The moment of revelation which would appeal to his sadistic instincts. Victor felt the urgent throb of his pulses. It was as fascinating an evening as he had enjoyed for quite a while.
Lorraine pushed herself up on to her knees, then she stood ... and slowly turned. A shuddering gasp came from her and she recoiled, mouth sagging, eyes filled with shocked horror. Then she bent, covering her face with her hands. "Oh ... no ... ohhh ... no ... ooo...." she moaned between her fingers.
Max grinned. The reaction pleased him mightily. "I am not exactly a young Greek god, I know," he said, "but as I told you, my girl, I enjoy that, rather than the reverse...."
"Oh my God ... h-how can I?" wailed Lorraine, her face still covered. Her resolution had received a stunning blow.
"If this is acting, you're playing the wrong part" said Max with an edge to his voice. It was the second crisis point since the session had begun. Lorraine knew that all she had gone through would be wasted if she backed out at that moment; it could still be wasted if she did not play her "correct part"-that she enjoyed Max's attentions. Yet could she go through with it? Could she? Her whole lovely naked body shuddered convulsively. It was a crisis indeed! And one which Victor sincerely hoped she would surmount.
Then, after a long half minute, she turned away from Max and stumbled to the table where the brandy bottle stood. She took an even larger measure and gulped it down, half choking as the raw spirit bit her throat.
Max resumed his seat on the couch. "Come here," he ordered.
Lorraine stumbled back to him, eyes half averted, big breasts bouncing with her movement. She was going to go through with it, Victor's mind throbbed exultantly! Max sized her and pulled her down, crushing her luscious young nakedness against his repulsive fat hairiness. He covered her face and breasts with slavering wet kisses as he mauled her at will. Breasts, buttocks, arsehole, cunt ... all received the indecent probing attentions of his podgy white hands and fingers.
"Soon, my beauty," he panted, "I'm going to fuck you. Yes ... yes ... soon this pretty little thing I've got my finger up is going to get my prick...."
"Oh ... ooggh ... oooggghh...." gasped Lorraine as she squirmed under his attentions-yet submitted to them.
"But ... but first...." went on Max, "you're going to do things ... for me ... to me. Yes ... a man of my years needs a little extra stimulus you know. Not like your quick, hot young lovers...."
God, thought Victor, how much stimulus does a man need! Just to have that lovely naked creature wriggling in one's arms would have been enough. Still Max must have been in his late fifties and had no doubt been weakened by debauchery and excesses in earlier years.
"You're going to suck me first ... yes ... yes ... you're going to use those big tits ... yes...." Max was almost slobbering, his piggy eyes oily-hot with lust. He could scarcely have looked more bestially repusive.
A strange sort of half submission had come over Lorraine. It was not so much that she had made up her mind to go through with it but a combination of alcohol and the shock of events seemed to have half numbed her powers of resistance. She even clung to Max's hairy grossness as he mauled her. But it was a clutch of desperation and her breath was rasping half hysterically.
Then Max suddenly parted his thighs wide and thrust Lorraine down between them.
"Get down there, my beauty ... and get on with it," he grunted.
Victor could see his flabby fatness shaking with the strength of his lust. It must have been an unpleasant moment for Lorraine, but he could not see her face as her auburn hair had fallen forward and across it. Max seized a hank of the hair.
"Say you want it ... say you want to suck me!" he commanded, his voice thick.
That would indeed be acting, reflected Victor, if she could make that sound convincing! There was a choking sound from Lorraine, but, at least, she forced out an answer. "I want to ... I want to ... M-Max...." she said.
Max grinned pleasurably. "Then get on with it," he said.
Lorraine's head bent lower. Her mouth pressed to the flaccid sex, her tongue began to flicker and lick.
"Mmm ... that's good...." murmured Max after a little while. He was more relaxed, bending forward a little and looking down lasciviously at Lorraine at work. He had released her hair and both his hands were underneath her kneeling body, cupping and clasping the big, pendulous breasts. "Yes ... that's good ... and good acting, too...." breathed Max.
The knowledge that she might be truly succeeding in her odious task, inspired Lorraine to proceed even more assiduously. Max sighed with pleasure. It was indeed a joy for him to have such a beautiful young woman kissing and sucking him with such apparent fervor. It was not long before he had received the stimulus he need and was in full erection.
That was fine. But, with Max, the important thing was to maintain his erection. For a moment, he was half tempted to let Lorraine going on sucking his to a climax. Then he dismissed the idea. She would make too delicious a fuck for that. So he continued to let her gam him until he had reached the limit of his endurance ... having enjoyed on the way the most exquisite pleasures.
In the end Max had to push Lorraine off himself and he slumped back on the couch quivering with the fierceness of the desires she had roused. The "dead bird" had risen from its nest, Victor noted, but all the same, it was of no great merit. Moreover he saw it begin to sag a little even after a few moments. Meanwhile, Lorraine remained kneeling on the carpet before the couch, head bent, her smooth white shoulders heaving with quick intakes of her breath. Victor could almost feel her sense of dejection and degradation. It could not have been pleasant for one of her beauty and temperament to be treated worse than a tart. All the same, there was no denying she had asked for it. It just showed how strong was her will to succeed on the stage. A small part of his mind felt a certain sympathy for her, but a larger part did not. She could always stop; she could always get up and go. But she chose not to. No doubt she felt she had descended so far into the pit of shame there was no longer any point in turning back.
Victor was, in fact, pretty correct in his assessment of Lorraine's feelings. She felt inwardly sick and revolted with herself-for what she had done and still had to do. The fat old Jew repelled her intensely and the thought that she would be submitting to him completely made her flesh creep. It was so different with Francois, or Jules, or Henri. The feel of those young men made her tremble, not shiver.
"Now your tits ... those lovely big tits...." Max said. He had sat up on the edge of the couch again and taken hold of Lorraine by her rich auburn hair. "And, remember, you're an actress...."
Max grinned at her as Lorraine looked up with loathing in her eyes. He was only half in erection as she moved forward and slipped his prick, only half in erection, between the deep cleft of her lush orbs. "If you really enjoyed it, you'd smile wouldn't you?" leered Max.
Lorraine forced the travesty of a smile upon her full lips ... and maintained it as she continued to squeeze Max's organ between her breasts. But her eyes could not smile. Just the mouth remained in a "letter-box" sort of grimace. That satisfied Max more than adequately, since of course, he knew she really hated it.
Under the exciting stimulus of the warm, resilient flesh, Max was soon stiff and hard again. It was a form of love play he particularly enjoyed ... and loved to see the shock and disgust in a pretty girl's face as he spunked over breasts and neck. However, despite the temptation, he did not intend to do that with Lorraine.
Victor found Lorraine's face a fascinating picture of fierce inner emotions. The effort it was costing her was apparent. She hated Max, she hated herself, she hated the whole world. Yet she had to go on.
Soon, for a second time, Max teetered on the brink of a climax ... and had to force Lorraine away. Like some fat ape he lay on the couch, breathing heavily, allowing his seething emotions to subside a little.
To his surprise, Victor saw Lorraine kneel by the couch and begin to caress Max ... first his chest, then his hairy paunch, then his prick. Max seemed a little surprised too, but mightily pleased. No doubt, Lorraine was determined to "act" sufficiently well to get the part, having gone so far. And, perhaps too, she wished to bring the whole affair to completion as quickly as possible. So the more Max was roused, the better.
"I want you to take me, Max," she breathed, "I want you to ... y-youth isn't everything ... there's such a thing as experience...." She even kissed his animal grossness with seeming passion. Max grinned. A lie ... but a delightful lie!
"So you really want me to fuck you, eh?"
"Yes ... yes ... Max ... really!" replied Lorraine. Under the circumstances, it was damned good acting!
Red-faced, Max roused himself from the couch and stood up. "Well," he leered, "you shall have that pleasure, Lorraine ... now. And, what's more, you can watch yourself having it. No ... not can ... you will!"
To Victor's great satisfaction, Max indicated the full-length false mirror through which he was looking.
"Over there...." ordered Max, "and down on your hands and knees. I'm going to have you 'a la Roman'-from the rear."
CHAPTER FIVE
Lorraine gulped and shuddered as she got to her feet. In a way, it mattered hardly any more how he had her. But it was a way, she realized, that would add to her humiliation. She swayed and for a moment pressed one hand to her brow. Then she pulled herself together. It was the last lap. Ridiculous to fail at that moment. Biting her lips, Lorraine stepped towards the mirror with her graceful, half-prancing stride and Victor was able to enjoy the sight of her lovely full-fronted nakedness, rippling and quivering with her movement. He felt a stab of envy for Max, who came lumbering behind. She certainly was some woman ... though Victor, for his taste would have rather obtained her submission voluntarily than by blackmail, or something like it. Still, as the French say, "chacun a son gout." Who was he to criticize Max for his taste, for his preferences, for his diversions? I may well be the same at his age, Victor reflected.
Lorraine knelt before the mirror. She kept her head high and Victor could see the anguish in her eyes. Every quiver of her features and her lips was clearly visible to him ... and there were plenty of them, especially so when Max knelt heavily behind and first began to kiss and then to fondle her shapely bottom. He made her straddle her thighs wide and dip her back so that her asscheeks were thrust up fully. Such was Max's lechery that Victor could see him dribbling from the corners of his mouth. Yes ... he really was quite disgusting. All things considered, Lorraine was putting up a remarkably good performance.
"Say it again...." he said thickly, "I want to hear it ... say it...."
"I ... I want you ... Max...." Lorraine said.
"Better than that...."
"I want you ... to ... to fuck me...." Lorraine forced the crude word out of her trembling lips. It was music in Max's ears.
"Again...."
"F-Fuck me ... oh ... fuck me ... Max...." Lorraine managed to wriggle he botton seductively.
Max could restrain himself no longer. His hai-rcovered, blueberry carcase fell upon Lorraine lush naked body. He almost crushed her torso down to the floor, but she managed to take his weight and keep her asscheeks thrust up. "Now...." grunted Max, "here comes the prick you've been waiting for!"
His massive haunched jerked ... and he rammed home as fully as he could. A piggish snort of joy erupted from his sagging mouth. The feel of his conquest was obviously as exquisite as his imagination had led him to believe.
From Lorraine came a gasping little moan and her whole body shuddered.
Briefly, Max savored the feel of his victim. His eyes seemed a little glazed with his lust. His hands had come forward and were greedily clasping Lorraine's breasts. "Ahh ... ahh yes ... y'es! sss" he half groaned. The breath was hissing between Lorraine's breasts. "Ahh ... ahh yes ... yes ... sss" he she endured the full horror of Max's gross bestiality. Yet she knew her "performance" was not yet over. She had to "act" to the bitter end.
"Fuck me, Max ... fuck me ... oh that's so good...." she choked out.
Max's great jelly-juddering haunches had begun to jerk as he rammed in and out. He groaned with delight ... that delight increased by Lorraine's words.
"You b-beauty ... you little beauty...." he panted. "I ... I'm going to fuck the arse off you!"
I doubt, thought Victor. You haven't got the equipment nor the stamina, you fat old pig. Now I ... that would be different. I reckon I'd reduce her to a jelly alright! He gazed avidly at the erotic scene as it unfolded, only a foot or two away from his vision.
It was a scene that was violent and short-lived. Max was too worked up, and too debilitated, to give any kind of prolonged effort-much "as he might want to. After little more than a minute of the grossest, animal-like fucking-during which his face went from red to puce and the sweat poured from him-Max achieved a juddering climax. Frantically, Lorraine worked herself to increase his pleasure ... but, quite obviously, the only emotion which really moved her was revulsion and not sexual enjoyment.
At the same time there could be no doubt of Max's uncontrolled pleasure. He literally squealed his joy as he reached the short, climatic strokes. The whole of his soft flesh quaked as he expanded himself with all the violence of which he was capable ... and then he slumped down, exhausted and sweating, breath rasping like bellows, crushing Lorraine beneath him. Victor could hear her whimpering.
* * *
Several minutes passed before Max Grunwald found strength to rise. Then he staggered over and flopped down on the couch. Lorraine rose and went swiftly into the bathroom Yes ... she would be feeling very dirty, in every sense. She would try to wash it all away.
When she returned, she certainly looked fresher ... her make-up restored ... and comparatively composed. And she looked as ravishingly lovely as ever. Going over to Max, who still lay lazily on the couch, she seated herself beside him. With only an infinitesimal shudder she kissed the top of his bold head, at the same time brushing his face with her warm breasts.
"I hope I pleased you, Max," she said softly. "Do you know, you made me ... come ... almost immediately. It was lovely...."
A blatant lie, too, thought Victor. All the same he reckoned Max was inclined to believe it. He grinned happily. "I told you there was still life in the old dog," he said. "And experience to go with it."
Victor could not repress a scoff. How some people go on believing in their illusions!
"You can have me again-later," urged Lorraine, "if you want me...."
She certainly was putting on a performance! No doubt, too, she was reckoning and Max having shot his bolt. The podgy little hands fondled her gently. "I may well take you up on that, young lady," he replied.
Lorraine rose from the couch. It seemed a good moment for her to strike, thought Victor. She obviously thought so too for she returned carrying a glass of brandy for Max-and the contract.
"Would you like to sign now?" she asked. Her breasts were thrusting nakedly in his face, her cunt was invitingly displayed. Max hesitated. For a moment it seemed he might continue his sadistic cat-and-mouse play. Then he picked up a pen and scrawled his signature on the contract. At the same time he fondled Lorraine's cunt with his other hand. "There...." he said, "I think you've earned it, my dear."
He smiled slowly and cruelly at her. She understood the implication of his words but though the color came to her face, she said nothing. Hateful as it had been, she had achieved her object ... and she was right in assuming that Max was too tired to proceed any further. She took the contract and locked it in a drawer of the desk on the other side of the room.
Lorraine had achieved her object ... and the satisfaction was evident on her face. She walked slowly and seductively back towards Max, confident of his impotence now, standing invitingly over him as he lay on the couch.
"Are you sure you don't want me again?" she enquired, with a winning smile.
"No ... not now ... but yet...." answered Max quickly as he finished his brandy. He held out the glass for it to be re-filled. Lorraine moved and refilled it.
"Then you'll be leaving soon?" she said softly. She knelt with one leg on the couch, showing herself. She was, in effect, challenging him ... knowing he was defeated.
"Yes, my dear," answered Max. "Quite soon...."
Lorraine smiled at him. There was hate and there was triumph in that smile. Scorn, too.
She had lost ... and she had also won.
Above all, she had the vital contract signed. I hope, for her sake, reflected Victor, it is worthwhile. It had to be worth a lot to be the plaything of such a revolting beast!
He switched off the mirror and lit a cigarette. A most entertaining evening, he mused, as he made his way back to his own quarters. It was remarkable what a woman could do for her own devices ... and how skillfully a man could organize his personal enjoyment.
It was past eleven o'clock, he noted as he stripped off his clothes and took a warm shower. He was quite tired ... and no doubt his own exertions of the afternoon had something to do with that. Stretching out on the broad bed, he closed his eyes for a few moments. It had been an interesting day, in its way. Particularly the evening. His thoughts throbbed gently. Lazily he considered whether or not he should send for one of the girls. He would rather like some coffee ... and a little companionship. At the same time he was aware that one of those little minxes-whoever was on duty-was quite capable of working him up to undue excitement. Did he want a fuck? Well ... he did ... yet he felt rather lazy. It was a nice idea, but could he be bothered?
No, he decided ... no ... not at that moment ... he really felt too lazy ... too sleepy. Max pulled some covers over himself. Tomorrow, perhaps. Whenever he felt like it anyway. It didn't matter ... it was always available anyway....
His mind drifted, filled with images of Lorraine. Quite a woman ... yes ... yes ... quite a woman ... she certainly had had a hell of an evening....
Slowly, sleep closed over Victor. His last thought was to wonder how the honeymoon couple were getting on. He would have to have another look at them before long....
CHAPTER SIX
Morning came ... and, with it, Julie. She was one of the half dozen maids ... and a most intriguing one. Outwardly she looked pretty icy, but Victor knew that in reality she was quite different. Blonde and blue-eyed, she had classically Nordic features and, indeed, she was half Danish.
"Tea, sir...." she said, bending over him, her breasts prominent through her black silk dress, "and your post."
"Thank you, Julie," Victor said drowsily. Almost automatically he slipped his hand up under her skirt and fondled the softness of her gently. He knew they all liked a little attention. He was not exactly averse to it! Julie giggled and sidled down on to the bed.
"Oh sir," she said, "what a way to treat your staff." She kissed him greedily and one hand slipped under the sheets so that she could fondle his body. Victor always slept nude, so she had free access. In a moment she had his prick firmly but gently in her hand. He had woken with half a stand and it did not take long to give him a full one. While her hand played with him, his hand slipped into her tight briefs and he touched her cunt. It was hot and yet. Eager....
"Victor ... I want you ... please...." she panted.
Julie's chiselled Nordic features may have given her a cold appearance, but she certainly wasn't. To feel that big, thick prick in her hand gave her the strongest urges. Victor smiled up at her ... and allowed himself to be "persuaded." In a matter of moments, it seemed, Julie had pulled back the sheets, pulled down her briefs and lifted up her short skirt. She slid quickly on to bed and straddled herself across Victor's body. He had to do nothing, make no effort. She even took hold of his prick and guided it firmly to her hot. eager cunt. Victor, although still not fully awake, was ready for her. As so often in the morning, he felt very much like having it.
The young blonde lowered herself slowly down in a single, easy movement. An expression of delight filled her face as his great ramrod organ filled her ... filled her full. And Victor savored the delicious quivering-gripping depths of her. For a moment his mind fickered back to Don and Terry Gordon. This was a position they had found very much to their liking. He kissed Julie on the mouth and lay still, allowing her to make the pace.
For a while she undulated up and down slowly, sighing with contentment all the time and murmuring again and again what a marvellous man he was. Her cunt grew steadily more liquid-hot and gripping and Victor's pulses pounded faster with pleasure-lust. Julie was both very loving and very expert.
Steadily she increased the pace, but all the time she was controlled ... raising herself high so that only the tip of Victor's knob remained within her and then gliding down with a delicious squirming movement. Lightly Victor put his hands on her soft, bare buttocks. It was good to feel their twitching-quiverings proclaiming her mounting pleasure.
As minute followed minute, Victor found it necessary to keep a rein on his own emotions. Julie was exciting him more than somewhat. "You sexy little sexy Scandinavian!" he hissed in her ear.
"You big British brute...." she answered in a breathless voice.
Faster and faster became the pace and it was not long before Victor decided to abandon control. Julie, he knew, was teetering on the verge of a climax and only holding herself back for him. He allowed the flood of lust to surge through him and began to jerk his haunches upwards in co-ordination with Julie. Their mutual sighs and gasps grew louder and more frequent. Finally, at the precise moment Victor achieved his fierce orgasm, Julie cried out, her whole body jerking with the joy of her own climax. They writhed ecstatically together, groaning softly as they took full and final pleasure in each other ... eyes closed, mouth to mouth. Then, slowly their quivering flesh subsided into relaxation. They lay together, perfectly slaked, perfectly happy.
* * *
Julie ran him a bath before leaving and when he had taken it, Victor sat on his bed and read his post. It was mainly of a business nature but at once he recognized one long, pale grey envelope with a Toulouse postmark. A letter from Marcia. As always, he opened her letters with eager interest.
Marcia was Victor's wife. She was ten years younger than he, and they had been married some ten years earlier. For some five years they had lived a profoundly happy life together. Then they had parted, to live their own lives. Even their parting had been happy and mutually agreed upon. They had never divorced. There seemed no need for it, particularly as so many of their business interests were financially tied together.
Marcia and Victor never interfered with each others lives, but each continued to take an interest in the others doing. They telephoned and corresponded from time to time and even visited each other. Marcia was the only person to know about the secret ramifications of Victor's hotel and she always found it amusing and exciting to accompany him on a "voyeur tour" whenever she visited him. Their trust in each other was complete. They had no secrets of importance from each other. Both fully respected the others wishes and particular quirks of temperament fully. One could say they carried free living and broad-mindedness to its ultimate lengths, being able to do so without difficulty by reason of a worldly, sophisticated outlook.
The reason for their original parting was basically simple. It had nothing to do with infidelity. Indeed, they had taken such pleasure in each other in every way that it had been most rare for either of them to look elsewhere. However, by nature, Marcia had always been a woman of strong personality. She had only been able to hold it in check out of her love and regard for Victor. But it could not be truly denied and it increased as the years passed. Moreover Marcia was aware that the desires roused by that side of her character could never be satisfied with Victor. In any case, she would not have wanted to satisfy them with him. They had a special relationship of their own.
Thus it was that Marcia finally came to confess to Victor her secret yearnings.
She had always been, she said, something of a sadist ... and those drives increased as the years passed and she approached her thirties. One half of her was perfectly happy to live in harmony with Victor ... and submit completely to him. The other half wanted a man-or men-who would have to submit to her will. Who she could dominate completely. She wanted a male slave who would cringe and grovel at her feet, carry out he orders on the instant, and beg for mercy under her lash.
Victor had not seemed unduly surprised or perturbed by her announcement. He had, in fact, been aware of her leanings for some time, partly through the literature he had observed her reading on occasions.
"I should imagine you should have no difficulty in finding a suitable number of masochists for your purpose," he had said. "Why not take a holiday and look around for a suitable establishment?"
Marcia had been very grateful for his understanding. In many ways show as loath to leave, but her desires in the other direction were too strong. In any case, it was agreed, there would be no complete severance of their connection. For his part, Victor was already formulating in his mind his plans for the hotel. He would have plenty to occupy and amuse him. Above all, the last thing he wanted to do was to restrict Marcia's freedom of action. It was quite against his nature.
"I must say," he had remarked one evening when they were taking a farewell dinner, "I should care to have you as a mistress with a whip! With the right garb-leather and high heels and all that-you'll certainly look the part."
Marcia's dark yes had glinted. "You think I'll put the fear of God into some bastard, eh?" she asked.
"I certainly think you will," he replied. That night their love-making had been long, expertly varied and supremely satisfying for both.
It was not the end of it all. Indeed, they quite often made love on occasions later. But it was the end of an era.
* * *
Victor opened Marcia's letter. As usual it was closed and neatly typed on plain grey paper. He read:
Cher Victor, Hope all goes well with you and that you have an adequately interesting selection of guests at your delightful hotel. I also trust that charming array of young 'maids' you keep is not exhausting you too much. It is very obvious to me how eager all of them are to have the privilege of that beautiful male object you possess. I know you particularly like the ripe young stuff these days, but don't overdo it old body!
I am writing, for one thing, to let you know I shall be coming to Paris in a few days on business. I'll take a suite ... if you promise not to 'peek'. Some hopes, I suppose!
Now I have a piece of news which I hope will interest you. You will recall that for the last six months or so I have had Pierre as a 'servant'. A through going masochist, if ever there was one, as you know. However, I've given him a holiday, for something far more interesting has come up. I have now got a 'servant' who isn't a masochist at all! Frankly, he hates it ... and that makes it the greatest fun. He's a husky, young blonde brute-a German-of twenty five.
How has this come about, you will ask. Well, I won't bore you with details, but I have a foolproof blackmailing hold over him. I've got evidence that could get him 'life' if I go to the authorities and he knows it. So he's opted for my alternative ... and that is to be my 'slave' for a minimum period of six months. Needless to say, if I want him to stay on after that, I'll see that he does!
I am finding the whole set-up most satisfying and enjoyable, as you can imagine. Fortunately he is pretty tough, as he has to take plenty. I hope you will be able to come over shortly and see me in action.
Before closing, I think this little description will amuse you. It concerns the fashion in which I am writing this letter and I don't think Willie (that is the name of my new slave) is exactly enjoying it. I got the idea from a book I came across the other day.
I am in the study and Willie is acting as a 'table support'. Sounds odd, doesn't it? But it's quite simple really. Willie is naked but for the usual leather 'box' I make them wear. He lies on his back with his knees drawn up and his forearms raised, with the palms upturned flat. His kneecaps and palms act as the supports for a heavy oblong sheet of plate glass. Fortunately for him he can keep his elbows on the floor and that takes some of the strain off his arms. Still it's no doubt rather wearing apart from being rather humiliating, don't you think? Moreover he knows he has to keep the glass top steady and stiD.
On the glass top rests my typewriter ... and a cane. The cane is there ready in case the table top wobbles too much. He can see it as he looks up through the glass. He can also see a lot of me as I am sitting cross-legged on a cushion on the floor as I type ... and I haven't got a stitch on apart from high heels, black stockings and belt.
However-you know my technique-such delights are forbidden to Willie. The sight of so much woman coupled with being able to do nothing about it gets him mightily worked up on occasions, I assure you. Well-you can imagine how frustrating it would be, eh? A good hiding will always cool him down though. He has become a lot more docile already ... and he's only been here a fortnight.
That's all for now, dear Victor. Looking forward to seeing you in the near future.
Love, MARCIA.
P.S Unfortunately for him, Willie has just wobbled the table rather badly. Unlucky really, as I was nearly finished. I've told him he's going to get five good and hard across his backside with the cane, for that. He doesn't look exactly happy at the prospect!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Victor found himself grinning hugely when he finished Marcia's letter. Poor Willie ... he certainly was going through it! Marcia was very inventive in her methods and had certainly developed into an out-and-out sadist.
He had seen her dishing it out to some of her victims on occasions and he'd felt pretty sorry for them-even if they were masochists. There are limits to what a masochist can take and enjoy. And Willie wasn't one!
It was strange, he reflected, into what byways sex could lead a man. He had never been quite able to understand masochists. Not that he blamed them one bit. If that was their way, so let it be. He was sure, in varying degrees, they all got pleasure from it. The same applied to women who enjoyed diversions ... Lesbians and the like. But, of course, Willie's case was rather different. He gathered from Marcia's letter that he was normal..and thereforefore his subjection to her will would be most unpleasant. Ah well ... that was his affair. Victor rose from the bed and dressed carefully. He had quite a bit of routine business to attend to and wanted to get clear by lunchtime. He planned an afternoon at the races at Chantilly.
* * *
Three days later, Marcia came striding into the hotel. She was shown at once to Victor's office. The staff were very respectful, knowing her special position.
She looked absolutely splendid, thought Victor. Her dress, simple but expensive was of a deep crimson, her accessories of tan leather. Five foot eight naturally, she looked very tall in her astonishingly high-heeled shoes. Her figure, shapely but lithe, looked as good as ever. And there was a sparkle in her dark eyes. No doubt that her mode of life suited her.
They kissed lovingly, with true, understanding affection ... and then broke a bottle of champagne to celebrate their reunion.
Over a superb lunch, served to them privately in Victor's office, they discussed the many ramifications of their financial interests. It seemed that business was better than it had ever been.
Over brandy and coffee they got down to lighter topics. Victor gave Marcia a brief resume of the hotel guest list and a fairly detailed account of Lorraine Duclos' self-imposed ordeal. "Serve her right," remarked Marcia crisply, "you have to pay for success in this life."
"You are getting hard, aren't you?" said Victor.
Marcia gave him a seductive smile. "Not in every respect," she replied. "How about a little tour later this afternoon?"
"Certainly ... I would enjoy it," answered Victor. "By the way, what's happening to Willie in your absence?"
"Chained up," replied Marcia succinctly. "Naked in a stone cell. He's got enough bread and water to keep him alive, even if I am delayed. Good for his soul."
"Poor bastard," said Victor. "What a tyrant you are, my dear. Still, as long as it pleases you...."
"It does," said Marcia firmly. "Just to think about him at this moment pleases me. If you were more of my way of thinking you would understand better."
"Oh ... I understand alright," said Victor. "In any case, the important thing is for you to be having what you want. I couldn't really care less about him. He's probably getting what he deserves."
Marcia's eyes glittered. There seemed an added firmness in her high cheek-boned features and an extra tightness in the lips beneath her fine, straight nose. Incredible, reflected Victor, that a man could quake with dread before her ... while he could conquer her in a few moments. Life was indeed a strange thing. He accepted the fact and did not breed unduly upon it
* * *
Later that afternoon the two of them made their way through the 'safe' into the hidden passages that honeycombed the hotel. "Like a look at the young Gordons?" asked Victor.
Marcia nodded. "They sound rather fun," she said. "I wonder how keen the bride has become by now?"
But on arrival at Sumpex, both were disappointed when Victor opened the mirror. The room was empty. For a change, it seemed, the young lovers had gone out "Perhaps both of them are feeling too sore," smiled Marcia. "Well ... what do you suggest?"
Victor thought for a moment. "There are a couple of Lesbians in Room 8," he said. "Came last night. I haven't had a chance to observe yet. At least, I'd bet plenty they are Lesbians."
"Excellent," said Marcia. "I rather enjoy that for a change. Let's go ... and here's hoping."
This time they were not disappointed and it was immediately obvious that Victor's diagnosis had been the correct one. Two women occupied the bed. One was around thirty five ... a rather plain, hard-looking woman with chestnut hair. Beside her was a much younger women, not much over twenty, dark and girlishly plump. Both were quite naked and it seemed that had just woken from a sleep.
The elder woman was fondling the girl's soft, rounded breasts. The whiteness of her skin was quite remarkable. "Darling Anita," said the elder woman, "I'm so much in love with you I can hardly describe it. You do feel the same, don't you?"
Anita looked a little nervous. There was an air of guilt about her. "Yes ... I'm almost sure...." she whispered.
"A new affair, that's my guess," remarked Marcia. Victor nodded.
The elder woman continued her fondling and the dark Anita stirred. She gave the impression of both liking and being fearful of the emotions being aroused in her. "Oh Astrid," she murmured, "are you sure it's right?"
"I will prove it to you," came the answer. There a confident, experienced smile on Astrid's face with Anita could not see. "There's nothing to be worried or frightened about. You remember the other night? That turned out alright in the end, didn't it?" You loved that didn't you?"
"The seduction night," murmured Marcia. "This Astrid's an old hand, I reckon."
Victor nodded his agreement. "The youngster doesn't really know whether she likes it or not yet. But by the time Astrid's finished with her, she'll be quite converted, I've no doubt!"
Astrid's right hand left Anita's breasts and ran down over the smooth curving white belly. It reached the triangle of dark hair and the fingers began to play with subtle skill. Anita made a half-hearted attempt to evade them. She shivered. But the fingers kept on probing. Suddenly Anita gave a violent twitch. "O-Ohh!" she gasped.
"That is a sensitive spot, isn't it?" smiled Astrid. "No need to pretend you don't really like it, dear. I know better...."
The fingers resumed the delicate ministrations and their pleasing and seductive effect on young Anita were soon evident. She no longer tried to draw away but had opened her plump white thighs a little and had thrust her cunt forward in a nervous kind of invitation. Like Anita herself, the cunt had a plump and fleshy appearance. Marcia put his thoughts into words. "A succulent looking morsel," she said.
"Seems almost a shame to waste it," he said.
Marcia gave him a mock-severe look. "Come, come," she said. "Everyone to his and her taste. It isn't wasted on this 'bull' Astrid."
"Bull?" queried Victor.
"Yes ... that's one of the names they give to the 'male' half of a Les. Paternship."
"Hadn't heard it before," said Victor. "Ah well, you learn something new every day."
Meanwhile they both continued to watch Anita being worked up by the skilful probing and titillation. She had begun to breath faster, her eyes were nearly closed and her rounded white haunches jerked back and forward rhythmically.
"It is nice, isn't it? you do like it, don't you?" demanded Astrid.
"Yes ... yes ... Astrid ... I ... I do ... ooo...." said Anita. "Don't stop ... please ... ooooh ... it feels ... so good...."
But Astrid did not stop and Anita's eyes opened wide in disappointment. Astrid smiled at her as she held her cradled in her arms. "I'd like it too, you know," she said. "These things shouldn't be all one way...."
Anita gulped. She looked nervous again. "N-No ... I suppose not. Would you really like it?"
"Can she be that innocent?" asked Victor.
"In this kind of frolic, it could be," replied Marcia.
"Of course, my sweet ... I'd adore it," Astrid was saying. "I feel things just like you do, you know."
"Alright then," whispered Anita. Her face had gone a little pink with shyness. But ... I've never done this before ... you will understand...."
Astrid gave her a hug. "Of course," she said. "But you know where a woman's most sensitive ... where you're most sensitive ... don't you?"
Anita nodded ... and twitched again as Astrid's fingers returned to their former place. In a matter of moments she was again under the irresistible influence of lust and it gave her a sufficient sense of abandon to slip her own hand down between Astrid's thighs. She began to play with the elder woman's cunt.
A look of mingled pleasure and triumph spread over Astrid's face. Excited desire flared nakedly from her eyes. For her, this was the supreme joy ... a new young lover being initiated into the arts she knew so well and enjoyed so deeply.
"Yes ... yes...." she breathed encouragingly. "That's it there, my darling ... concentrate there ... that's my clitoris, darling ... that lovely sensitive spot ... yes ... oh yes...."
Astrid's own fingers were working with even greater zeal. They were beginning to probe deep as well as titillate. Lost in a rising tumult of sexual joy, Anita avidly began to copy her teacher. All sense of guilt had obviously gone as had her shyness. She cared for nothing but that the exquisite sensations should continue. As her haunches jerked and jerked under the stimulus, she had turned a little further over on to Astrid and her soft plump bottom quivered uncontrolably all over like some big, deep-clefted white blancmange. Victor found it a most enchanting spectacle ... and Marcia looked on equally intently.
"Look...." said Marcia suddenly, "I'm sure she's coming!"
She referred to Anita whose bottom had begun to bounce merrily, just as her gasps grew louder and longer.
"Too true," agreed Victor. A wetness could be seen shimmering on the inside of Anita's soft-quivering thighs.
"Aaah ... oooo ... aaahh...." she moaned.
Astrid slightly slowed the movement of her fingers and at the same time breathed in Anita's ear: "Don't stop, my dear ... I want that t-too...."
Zealously Anita continued her own less expert manipulations. It seemed only fair and right that Astrid should have such pleasure too. She felt a sense of obligation. She also felt quite careless and abandoned, for Astrid's fingers were still producing the most gorgeous sensations deep within her.
And, inexpert as Anita might be, her efforts soon produced the result Astrid desired. Her whole body shook and quivered violently, her long thighs crossed and her belly quaked. After the prolonged spasm a look of blissful peace spread over her hard features. All the same, she did not forget her delightful young loved ... and she continued to play with her until she came for a second time.
Anita literally squealed with joy before subsiding down relaxed, uttering long moaning sighs, her eyes closed. She clung tight to Astrid's long, firm nakedness ... while Astrid knew the exquisite feel of a soft, warm young body trembling against hers.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Well, that's that, for a bit, I suppose," said Victor. He handed Marcia a cigarette and she stuck it into her customary long black holder. Then he lit one for himself.
"I'm afraid so," smiled Marcia. "It would have been nice to see them tonguing each other, wouldn't it?"
Victor nodded. "Not much chance for half an hour or so. We could come back...."
"Maybe ... we'll see how we feel." Marcia looked at him with smiling eyes. "Has it made you feel sexy?" she asked. Her skirt had ridden quite away up her long, shapely thighs.
"It hasn't exactly acted as a sedative," he grinned "And nor do you! Shall we go and see if the Gordons have come back?"
"Let's ... said Marcia. She uncrossed her limbs to display a generous portion of white thigh. Though he knew her so well, Marcia never ceased to excite Victor ... and he particularly admired the small sexy-seductive devices she continued to employ whenever she was with him. A real woman ... in every sense, when she wished to be. Poor Willie, however, who only knew one side of her, probably thought very differently!
They made their way to the alcove that overlooked the honeymoon suite and Victor switched on the mirror. They were in luck. Terry Gordon sat before her dressing room mirror, wearing a fetchingly brief bra. and pantie set of a very pale mauve-purple color. Her high heels matched the color. She's learning to look saucy already, thought Victor. Don Gordon was nowhere to be seen at that moment.
"Five out of ten for looks and figure," remarked Marcia.
"Yes ... she's not terrific, but not too bad all the same. Nice little bottom on her. Still, she has youth and naivety on her side. At least, she was pretty naive when I saw her last. Hubby was too. But perhaps they're learning fast together. A rather nice sort of exploration you must agree."
Don Gordon came into the bedroom, obviously just having taken a bath. He was naked but still rubbing himself with a towel. Victor saw Marcia studying him appraisingly.
"Six out of ten," she said. They often played this little game together when assessing men and wornen. "But then I admit I'm always a bit biassed when I set my standards by you."
"Thanks," smiled Victor, "I can't imagine why you left me."
"'Because I knew I would always be able to come back from time to time," she answered, giving him a challenging look. Victor laid one hand lightly on her silken thigh but said nothing.
Meanwhile Don had come over to his young bride and was greedily fondling her breasts, so scantily covered by her bra. She looked' up at him with bright excitement in her eyes and then turned and pressed her pink lips to his belly.
"Oh-ho...." said Victor, "not so shy and retiring any more. She's learning to like the flesh."
"I thought you might feel a bit tired, Don, after that long walk," said Terry.
"Not a bit of it, sweet," said the young groom, quickly unfastening Terry's bra. He remained standing there and then placed his hand on top of her fluffy blonde head, pressing it a little lower down his belly. Terry took the hint and her lips quickly and shyly pressed to the root of his prick. Don tried to keep her head there, but she twisted away.
"Naughty," she said, her cheeks pink.
But even that light lip contact had obviously excited Don considerably. He was stiffening fast.
"I ... I'd like you to do that one day, Terry," he said rather hastily. "I mean, if you want to ... if you could. I mean ... kiss me all over ... you know...."
"Maybe I will," replied Terry, trying to look roguish and a rather daring woman of the world.
Marcia giggled. "They are rather innocent, aren't they? Sweet, though...."
Terry's blue eyes were hot and eager upon Don's rapidly stiffening organ. She rose suddenly and crushed herself against him, so that she could feel it hard in her belly. Don kissed her passionately and was soon pushing her tiny briefs down. They were both trembling and obviously as hot as fire. Naked they clasped and clung to each other.
Marcia rose suddenly and turned with a gay laugh to Victor. "Come on," she said, "let's do whatever they do. Quick ... strip off...."
Victor was by no means averse to the idea. In a matter of moments he had everything off and stood as naked as Don. It was good to see Marcia's lovely nude body again. If anything it seemed to improve with maturity, rather than the reverse. He felt the old desire hot within him ... and it intensified swiftly as Marcia took him by the prick and kissed him ardently.
"My favorite man," she said. "I can hardly wait to have this whopper inside me...." She played with him expertly and Victor erected instantly.
For a few moments they had forgotten the bride and groom but when they turned back the pattern of their love play was taking shape. Terry knelt on a cushion in the center of the room, her rounded young bottom invitingly in the air. She was shaking with excitement.
"I ... I'm glad you want to ... to do it this way...." she said. "I liked it so much, that first time ... last night. It makes me ... feel ... well, it seems silly to say ... sort of conquered ... and I like that, with you, darling"
It was a most convenient posture for Marcia and Victor, for they could adopt it too and still have their observation undisturbed.
"I like it, too," said Marcia, with the trace of a laugh in her voice, "and, do you know, I think it makes me feel rather 'conquered' as well. That makes a change these days!"
She knelt-down facing the false mirror and preferred he beautiful asscheeks invitingly to Victor. He knelt swiftly ... kissed first her buttocks ... then her cunt. Then he positioned himself and came upon her, his hands clasping her lovely full, firm breasts. Looking ahead he saw that Don was in roughly the same posture, even if looking a little more awkward. Victor felt Marcia manouever herself carefully so that his throbbing knob was just parting the outer lips of her cunt. She was very ready for him, he could feel.
Young Don and Terry took longer and there was a certain amount of fumbling. It was obvious that both of them were so eager and excited they couldn't take the trouble to position themselves correctly before beginning.
But at last the moment came and Don rammed home. Victor followed only a fraction of a second later-and employed the same kind of crudity.
Terry gasped ... and so did Marcia. "Oh you brute," she said. "Ohh ... it's almost like being raped!"
"Sorry...." grinned Victor, "but you did say, let's do what they do...."
"Don't be sorry...." said Marcia. "I like it ... really...."
Victor felt her hot cunt grip with a kind of exultation on his massive organ. He knew every fraction of her, every nuance ... but she still excited him furiously.
Don began to work away with unrestrained vigor ... and Victor proceeded to do the same. He withdrew to the full and rammed home to the full, fast and forcefully. "If ... if we're going ... to do ... as they do...." he said, "we ... can't ... make this ... las long...."
Marcia was finding Victor's unaccustomed speed and brute force very exciting ... and her excitement was considerably increased by the spectacle of the young couple erotically and convulsively coupled on the floor before them. "S-Suits me...." she said, working herself expertly in co-ordination with Victor's thrusts.
Young Terry was far less expertly coordinated but her pleasure seemed of the highest order. Her pretty pink mouth hung open and ecstatic gasps came from it as she wriggled to Don's rapid thrusts. Louder and louder and higher and higher came the gasps. Marcia did not gasp ... but there was a heavy-breathing kind of murmuring from her as, again and again, Victor's big organ working piston-like, filled her again and again.
"They're ... going ... to come ... soon...." he said, his eyes fixed on the young couple. Marcia was giving him the greatest delight, as she always did. It would be easy for him to unleash himself at any moment-and he knew she was teetering on the brink of an orgasm.
Ecstatically, Terry and Don rutted to a climax. Terry was in seventh heaven ... no asscheeks had ever been thrust up with greater eagerness; Don felt all man-as big as a giant, as skilled as Casanova-as he conquered his beloved. And as his overwhelming orgasm came, he fucked with even greater fury to obtain the maximum pleasure.
Victor times things to perfection. At almost precisely the same moment, he reached a peak too ... and he knew Marcia was with him. Their mutual orgasm was a steady, prolonged curve of ecstasy that slaked both of them utterly.
Victor reached up and switched off the mirror. He and Marcia returned immediately to a world of their own. They smiled and kissed affectionately ... and in a few moments were seated, each smoking a cigarette.
"Excellent," said Marcia. "You improve, if anything. I enjoyed that very much. And the entertainment we had with it was an interesting gimmick."
"It was fun," said Victor. "And, do you know, you're every bit as excitement ... very enthusiastic. As matter-of-fact, Marcia, you felt as if you hadn't had it for some time."
"Nor had I," replied Marcia with a smile. "One can pleasure in other ways, you know."
Victor nodded. "I realize that," he said, "but I thought part of the idea with these slaves ... this husky new Willie, for example ... I thought you had it on tap. When and how you wanted it, you know...."
Marcia shook her head. "You've got it rather wrong, my dear Victor," she said. "A slave of mine is not allowed to enjoy me in that way. Oh no, no, no! That's all part of the fun. To deny him, I mean, taunt him ... and deny him."
"Yes ... I see...." said Victor, "that would have its own appeal."
"Of course," went on Marcia, "he has to play around with me as I want ... suck me and so on. But not the full works. That would be far too great a privilege!"
"Very frustrating," remarked Victor, "especially with such an attractive creature as you."
"You might not think I looked quite so attractive with a whip in my hand," said Marcia.
"It would hide your natural beauty ... but I get what you mean," grinned Victor.
The two of them made their way back to Victor's quarters, having decided to leave their two Lesbian friends for another occasion. For the moment their desires were satisfied ... both were contentedly relaxed. That evening they went into Paris, saw a new play and had a quiet but excellent meal.
Few couples could have got on better together. "You might call this a perfect marriage," said Victor towards the end of the evening.
Marcia agreed. "But few people would have the wit or toleration that we have," she said rather smugly. "And they aren't afraid to test the maxim, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'."
Well past midnight they drove back contentedly to the hotel
* * *
On the following afternoon, Marcia left ... but not before she had Victor had paid another visit to the two Lesbians. As luck would have it, Astrid and young Anita put on a first-class performance.
Anita was fast losing her guilt complex and shyness and she was by no means averse when Astrid introduced her to the 'soixante neuf' position. They lay head to toe, with Anita on top, each mouth to each cunt.
They began slowly, with Astrid guiding and encouraging her young love all the time. It seemed that she realized she could not expect her pleasures to be as great as they would one day become. But she was quite content and concentrated on bringing Anita to the peaks of ecstasy. This she did in a half hour's most skilful performance. During that time, Anita came three times, with ever increasing violence, while Astrid came once ... holding her climax until the end.
The young girl was learning fast, although she still had a long way to go. What there was no doubt about at all, Marcia and Victor agreed, was her complete conversion to the Lesbian way. That was what Astrid had aimed at and her own full reward would come later.
* * *
Victor saw Marcia off. She drove a sleek Rolls Bentley-a car which seemed to suit her beauty and her character perfectly.
"When will you be coming to Chateau?" she asked Victor as she sat at the wheel with the motor purring softly. "That is-if it would amuse you?"
"I am sure it would do that," he answered. "Perhaps this week-end, eh? I'll phone you and confirm it-O.K?"
"O.K., I look forward to seeing you. Thanks for everything, Victor sweet. I've enjoyed it enormously. Everything!" Marcia blew Victor a kiss and slipped the Rolls Bentley into gear. With a surge of silent power it glided out of the hotel courtyard and Victor turned back into the hotel. As he did so it suddenly occurred to him that Willie would have been chained up for over forty eight hours. Poor bastard. And all he had to look forward to was Marcia's return!
CHAPTER NINE
Marcia's chateau was south of Toulouse in the Haure Garoone region, towards the Pyrenees. It was in fairly wild country a few miles from the nearest small village ... and therefore admirably suited her purpose. The grounds, which were unclosed by a high wall were guarded by a single massive iron grille gate which bore the coat of arms of the original owner. Just by the gates was a small lodge occupied by the caretaker. He was an old sturdy peasant-a rock of stubborn silence where his mistress was concerned. He was very well paid, as was his wife who acted as a cook at the Chateau. She was deaf and a little half witted, but a superb cook. Whatever she saw that went on the Chateau seemed of the utmost unconcern. That was all the mistress's affair and not in her world. She never spoke of it even to her husband who had rigorously impressed the need for silence.
Victor arrived at the gates of the Chateau late one afternoon and the caretaker came out and unlocked the grille gates when he recognized him. "Nice to see you again, Bastide," he said. The old man nodded dourly. "You are expected, monsieur," he said. The iron gates clanged behind him. Like entering a prison, he thought, and felt glad he had the means of release! He garaged the car and, as was his custom, signalled his arrival by using a house phone set there. He got direct through to Marcia.
"Well I'm here, my dear," he said. "What's the form?"
He never barged in on Marcia. It might not suit her purpose at that moment. "Come right up," she said, "I'm in my boudouir, as I like to call it. Use either entrance-they're both unlocked."
"What about Willie, does it matter if he sees me?"
"That's alright. He's elsewhere at the moment working up a sweat. We'll discuss that later. Come on up first," replied Marcia. Victor thought he detected a crispness in her voice. No doubt she dropped quickly into her part when she was at the Chateau Lambez. He went in through a side entrance and mounted the staircase to the first floor. It was not the main staircase. Victor knew the chateau quite well and could find his way around, despite its many ramifications. He went along a thickly carpette dcorridor and opened the door of Marcia's main apartment.
Although he had seen her similarly garbed before, he still found it pretty breath-taking to see her like that. She stood before the ornate marble fireplace looking taller than usual, long limbs a little astride. On those long limbs was a pair of gloaming patent leather boots, laced all the way up the front They came to halfway up her splendid white thighs and the heels were stilletto type, some six inches high. She wore a pair of abbreviated black tights made of thin, very supple black leather ... the tights clinging to her curves like a second skin. For some reason this garb seemed to give her breasts and even greater firmness and thrust and the hump of her sex, tightly V-d, had an added sexily-curving prominence.
"Good to see you again, Victor," she said, coming forward, long-striding, hand outstretched. He took it, sensing, in her mood or role, she did not wish for further intimacy.
"God, you look stunning, Marcia," he said, "just the part...." He noticed that her black hair was arranged in a different style, drawn tightly over her head and fastened in a small coil at the back. It was lacquered too. Her features were heavily made up, particularly her eyes which were darkly mascared. The make-up had added a remarkable hardness to her features-a severity which was not normally present.
"Like a drink?" asked Marcia.
"Yes," he said, "I'm a bit flaked after that drive."
He could not take his eyes off her as he moved to a side table and poured a couple of Scotches. She came back, thin-lipped and handed him the glass. Even her lips seemed to have been changed into a hard line by her make-up.
"Do I frighten you?" she asked.
"No," he grinned, "but I know you ... otherwise you might. I'm certainly glad I don't have to deal with you as you are!"
"Good," said Marcia. "As you know, this set-up is in my blood. Sex and sadism. It's great. But I have to live the part, you know, Victor. Forgive me if I seem a bit out of this world to you at times."
"That's alright, my dear," he said. "Just carry on. I find it quite fascinating in its way. Don't worry about me. I'm just and interested bystander." Victor took a good slug of the Scotch. What the Hell must it be like to be under her thumb, he wondered! He tried to put himself in that position, but his mind wavered away.
"I'll be having Willie up shortly," said Marcia, "and I think it best you keep in the background for the moment. Just take a look from the usual place."
"Suits me," said Victor. Marcia had learnt a trick or two from him. There was an excellent concealed viewing point behind the mirror in that room.
"You're in charge," he grinned. "Very much so, I'd say."
Marcia didn't smile in return. It seemed she was so wrapped up in her role it didn't suit her to do so. There was a tension in her. He reasoned that the whole environment ... the set-up ... gave her keen satisfaction whether her slave was present or not.
Victor accepted another drink, but he could see that Marcia was restless. "Just carry on," he said, "whenever you're ready."
"That's alright," replied Marcia, glancing at the clock. "He's got another quarter of an hour yet."
"What do you mean?"
"I like to keep him fit," smiled Marcia thinly, "so he does a certain amount of hard labour from time to time. At the moment he's shifting concrete blocks from one of the cellar rooms to another. I set a target and it's up to him to keep to it."
"I bet you don't make it too easy," said Victor. He was beginning to feel sorry for Willie.
"Naturally not," answered Marcia sharply, "but if he sweats his guts out, he can do it. I'm fair, even if hard."
"And what happens if he doesn't come up to expectations?"
"You'll probably see that," replied Marcia. Leather-clad, she moved with sinuous grace across the room. It was remarkable what poise she had in such teetering high heels. "Of course, physical exertion is but one side of his regime. He also has more domestic duties of a more humiliating kind. And, as I've told you, he has to serve my body. His servitude is physical, mental and pychological. A masochist would gain some pleasure from some aspects of this but, as I have said, he is not one." Marcia paused. "However, I have noted lately that he may be acquiring some tendencies in that direction.
Perhaps it is a from of self-protection."
Victor nodded, but he found the situation a little difficult to follow. He was by no means such an expert in the field as Marcia was. All the same, he was willing to learn and he respected the format of her will and her desires.
Victor lit a cigarette from his case and then extended it to Marcia. She did not move and something compelled him to get up and go over to her. She took it with a kind of cold disdain. Her eyes were hard as she looked towards a side-table. On it lay her holder and Victor picked it up and handed it to her. Then he lit her cigarette. She gave no thanks and puffed the smoke into his face. For a moment he felt like slapping her backside ... but, in a moment, she had relaxed with a laugh.
"There," she said, "didn't you feel, perhaps, there was something hypnotic about me?"
Victor reflected. Maybe there was. Certainly he had felt impelled to move and do her unspoke bidding. "I think you're right," he said.
""It was just a merest taste of what my slave feels" said Marcia. "I thought it might amuse you...."
Victor laughed. "It did in a way," he said. The momentary air of tension had gone. "Is this open day for experiments of something? If you aren't very careful, my good woman, I'll strip that leather off you and smack your bare backside!"
The stern face relaxed into a smile. Marcia came forward and put her arms around Victor's neck, rubbing herself seductively against him. "That's my man," she said, "and I take it from you. God ... I reckon Willie often feels he'd like to do the same-and more!"
"Some hopes," said Victor, running his hand over the nakedness of her buttocks beneath the tights.
"You're not kidding," said Marcia. "If he so much as puts a finger on me without permission he gets it! But I think he's learnt his lesson in that respect by now."
They broke away and Marcia, after another glance at the clock, went to the phone. It was an internal phone with a great number of switches. She pressed one down.
There was some half minute's wait, then a voice answered. "Slave!" rasped Marcia. 'Time's up. Check on what you've done so that you can report. Then take a shower. After that come up to my apartment. If you're just one second over five minutes, you'll know all about it!" Marcia rammed down the receiver. From off the table beside it she picked up a slim, plaited leather riding switch. It was the first time Victor had noticed it. Marcia flexed it with considerable relish and he saw how easily it bent in her fingers.
"Time for me to go!" he said in mock terror. At the same time his imagination was vividly aware of what it must mean to be truly subject to her and that vicious-looking lash.
"O.K., Victor," replied Marcia a little dreamily. "Make yourself comfortable ... there's everything there you need. I hope you find it amusing anyway...."
"I'm sure I will," he said. He went to a section of the pannelling beside the mantelpiece and pressed a piece of the beading. There was a click and a door swung open. He was in a small comfortably furnished room from which he could watch everything that went on the boudoir, using a large 'false mirror' of the type which he had installed in his hotel. He sat down, operated the switch, and waited.
CHAPTER TEN
There was a knock on the door. "Come in!" Marcia's voice was crisp and authoritative. The door opened and Willie entered.
He was very much as Victor had expected, blonde and Germanic in appearance, his feature a little heavy, his hair close-cropped-and, although he was only about five foot eight, he was muscular and stocky. He was nude but for the hard leather "box' Marcia customarily made her slaves wear. This device was held on by a strap that ran under his legs and up between his nates, fastening to a leather belt about his waist It was literally locked on and could not be removed unless Marcia used her key. In practice, the 'box' was removed for a few minutes morning and night to allow Willie to perform natural functions ... and if it so happened he had to do something similar during the day, he had to come and ask Marcia. If she ever had to open the 'box' for that purpose, Willie invariably got a whacking of some kind as a penalty, so the situation would not only be humilating for him, it would be painful, too. Apart from this, Willie wore leather cuffs or manacles around his wrists and angles and to each of these was attached a small steel ring. It was by means of these that Willie could easily be secured should the need arise.
Willie closed the door and, turning, at once fell to his knees before executing a low bow. Victor was able to study his face more carefully when he knelt erect again. Upon it the main expression was one of apprehensive dread, although there were undertones of sullen anger and a hint of disbelieving despair.
"Come here!" Marcia stood with legs astride, hands on hips, the switch dangling from a leather loop about one wrist. A formidable sight indeed! Willie half rose. "On your knees, slave ... crawl!" barked Marcia. He did as he was ordered and came abjectly forward on hands and knees. This gave Victor his first sight of his hindquarters-which were reflected in a large mirror on the far wall. He almost winced in sympathy at the sight of them. Li various stages, from fading to fresh they were criss-crossed with weals and welts.
Willie reached Marcia's high-heeled black patent boots ... the boots that gleamed and glittered with such an excess of polishing. All his own work!
"Did you complete your task, slave?" demanded Marcia.
"Almost, m-mistress...." came the answer. Willie had only a slight gutteral tone in his voice.
"Almost! You know that's not good enough. Well, I'll check later and you'll be dealt with accordingly." she said. "Meanwhile, a little demonstration of your new-found humility would not come amiss. You'll kiss my boots from toes to tops!"
The right boot stamped forward some six inches and at once Willie's head lowered. With a remarkable fervour he began to kiss the foot of the bootboth kissing and licking it ... and not forgetting that tapering high heel. Then his mouth began to work slowly up the boot, Back, front and sides it went and Victor noted he did not miss a fraction of the supple leather. Marcia had certainly taught him a thing or two since she'd had him in her power! Up and up he worked ... his hands not touching Marcia, but just his mouth and tongue ... his pale greyish eyes looking a little glazed at the concentration he put into his task. It was obvious he realized he could afford no errors. Up and up ... past the kneecap ... up the widening thigh. The bulging just of Marcia's cunt was just above his head ... the acme of female domination. Then Willie came to the very top of the boot ... working round and round ... even between Marcia's widened thighs.
Suddenly Victor saw Marcia's right hand tighten on her plaited leather switch. With a quick movement it whip-lashed down and bit into Willie's nates.
He uttered a yelping howl and witsted writhing down to the floor.
"I said my boots, you insolent swine!" rapped Marcia.
The unfortunate Willie, in his efforts to cover every fraction of Marcia's boots, had allowed his lips to stray for a moment to the softness of her white thigh. A grievous error! Marcia gave him another hard cut while he still squirmed from the pain of the first.
"I've warned you about liberties before!" she barked.
"Yee ... oww ... oowww ... m-mercy ... mercy, mistress...." gried Willie as he clasped urgently at his buttocks, twisting round to look up at the tall figure above him with abject pleading in his eyes.
Marcia's left boot stamped ford. "Get on with it," was all she said.
Flinching, Willie bent to his task again and gave the same assiduous treatment of the second boot as he had done to the first. This time he took excessive care so as not to touch so much as a millimetre of his mistress flesh. Victor could see the pleasure on Marcia's face as she looked down at her victim. There was no doubt of the deep thrill it gave her to have a man so completely in her power. Willie subsided breathlessly to his knees when he had completed his task.
"Are you at last beginning to realize that you truly are my slave?" demanded Marcia, flexing the switch. "And feel like it?"
"Yes, mistress," he answered. There was a very genuine ring in his voice.
"You didn't believe me at first," said Marcia smiling thinly. "I am sure of that. Your predecessor enjoyed being my slave-to some extent, anyway. He was a masochist, you see, Willie. You are not, I realize. He found me very beautiful. Do you?"
Willie gulped. "Yes, mistress," he answered humbly. No doubt of the tryth, again. There was desire in his eyes as he looked at the lovely creature above him ... and limitless frustration, too. Victor sensed Marcia was going to play on that, for his benefit.
"Would you like to see me naked, slave?" asked Marcia softly. "You would appreciate my beauty better then...."
Willie's features quivered. There was both longing and loathing in his expression. "It ... it is as my mistress wishes," he answered meekly.
"Of course," smiled Marcia, "and it is my wish to be naked. You will remove these tights."
She raised her arms and Willie stood up. All the way down each side of the tights, concealed by a tiny hem of leather, was a zip. With trembling fingers Willie unzipped the right-hand fastening ... and then the left. The tights fell away from Marcia and she stood there in all her superb, lush nakedness. . utterly beautiful and incredibly dominating in her high-heeled boots. Willie could scarcely bear to look at her ... yet his fascination and his desire forced him to. It must have been the purest hell, reflected Victor, to have such loveliness so near and yet know, in truth, it was so far away.
Marcia smiled and moved so that her breasts swung with a bouncing quiver before Willie. He trembled, licking his dry lips, watching as Marcia stretched herself out voluptuously on the cushioned Ottoman couch that stood beneath the mirror through which Victor looked. He certainly had a front row seat!
"Fetch the oil, slave," ordered Marcia. "I want my breasts massaged."
Willie trembled even more as he looked down at Marcia. She lay with one knee raised, carelessly displaying herself to him.
Willie turned and disappeared from the room, returning moments later with an olive green jar. He sank to his knees beside the couch on which Marcia lay and poured some oil from the jar into his right hand. All the time Marcia regarded him with a hard unrelenting look. She looked completely at ease and in control. All the same, Victor sensed the sadistic throb of pleasure that was going through her.
The oil was poured and Willie's hand went to one of the firmly-upthrusting, half-melon breasts. He laved it all over with loving care and then commenced a squeezing massage. Victor knew just how that breast felt ... and the sort of emotions it must arouse in Willie. Marcia sighed and relaxed completely. After a minute or two, Willie turned his attention to the other breast. He worked with a willing eagerness, yet at the same time one could sense the tension within him. This was a duty he had been ordered ... and one that he was by no means averse to. At the same time he knew it would be unwise to show undue pleasure in it. Nevertheless, as Victor observed, he could not hide the mounting lust on his face.
In this fashion, Willie alternated his massaging from one lovely naked breast to the other, while Marcia lay back with her eyes virtually closed, breathing slowly and deeply. Her nipples acquired a firm rigidity, the velvet smooth flesh gleamed with the scented oil. She was really loving it....
Then, after a little while, Victor noticed that Willie appeared to be in some distress. He made intermittent whimpering sounds and crouched forward, half doubling up. The reason was not far to seek. This delicious personal contact was having its natural effect ... and that effect was being painfully constrained by the hard leather 'box' he had to wear. He shuddered with the pain produced by the pleasure!
Marcia opened her eyes. "Is there something the matter with you, slave?" demanded Marcia, slanting him a keen look.
"N-No ... no ... mistress...." he half sobbed.
"I hope not," said Marcia, closing her eyes calmly. There was a sudden blaze of fury in Willie's face and his hands shook even more. But, somehow, he managed to control himself. Why was it, Victor asked himself, that this tormented wretch did not leap upon Marcia and throttle her? She must have some other control which prevented that, he reasoned. This was, in fact, so. At the outset, under hypnosis, a 'check' had been implanted in Willie's brain. It was not possible for him to take any action which would harm Marcia in any way.
Willie continued to carry out his task for a full ten minutes. The room was silent but for Marcia's steady, gentle breathing and his own occasional whimpering gasps. As a man, Victor could well understand the torment Willie endured ... having this lovely woman under his vision and his touch, yet being unable to consummate his lust or, indeed, express it unduly.
At length Marcia flicked the switch across Willie's thighs. 'That will do," she said abruptly. Willie rose and took the oil jar away. There was a rubbery look about his limbs. When he returned Marcia was standing with a look of smug satisfaction on her face. A look of anticipation, too. With a flick of the switch she indicated a low trestle stool which was set at the end of the couch. "Get down on that," she ordered, "on your back." Willie obeyed without hesitation. He had long ago learnt the unwisdom of doing otherwise.
Marcia stood over him. She must have looked eight feet tall from where he was. And every inch of her a seductive woman! "Now you will please your mistress in another way," she said.
She turned so that she faced in the same direction as Willie and then she stepped so that one leg was on each side of the long trestle stool. She lowered herself so that the luscious rounds of her asscheeks came down upn his face. Literally, she sat upon his face ... his nose being buried forcibly in between the cleft of her nates, his mouth being pressed against her cunt lips. He was crushed by her, drowned in the sex of her. It need hardly be said she had to give no further orders!
Avidly his mouth and tongue went to work. He knew he had to please her to the utmost. Under different circumstances it would have been a joy to do so. In his restrained and frustrated situation, things were rather different. Victor watched the lower half of his body shuddering under its enforced constriction ... while, after a little while, Marcia began to shudder for a different reason. What a she devil she was, when she wanted to be! He admited her for the way she lived her role of mistress with slave to the full ... and was pleased by the obvious enjoyment she obtained.
In due course, under Willie's zealous tonguing and sucking, she came profusely. Victor could well imagine the love juice flowing stikily over his face and into his mouth. Normally that could be a prelude to exquisite delights for him, but he knew he would be denied any satisfaction. That was his servitude ... his punishment ... his torment.
Marcia continued to remain seated on his face after she had enjoyed her first orgasm. For a while she relaxed, even learning to one side and lighting a cigarette which she placed in her long holder. Willie, of course, had received no permission to relax. He continued to suck and tongue with all the skill and energy he could summon up. Had not his mistress warned him often enough of the penalties for failing to do other wise?
Marcia finished her cigarette with an apparent calmness. Victor had an excellent view of her firm, white back and the bulging nates over Willie's face
... and an equally satisfactory frontal view of her reflected from the mirror opposite. The thigh length boots added an unusually sexy touch to her appearance. At no time did she make any sign to him or show that she was fully aware that he was watching everything. She was living happily in a world of her own making.
The cigarette finished, Marcia permitted herself to concentrate more fully on Willie's continuing ministrations. Victor was fascinated to watch the steady, mounting pleasure-lust that showed in her face. She would stretch her arms, arch her back and sigh contentedly.
"Now you really now you're my slave, don't you?" she said, just before she allowed herself to rise to a second climax. It was not possible for Willie to make any answer-and none was expected. But the point was made. Marcia's lush nakedness quivered and quaked as her orgasm flooded her ... and then she sagged forward and down.
For the moment, Willie knew his duty was done.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There followed a period of relaxation for Marcia. Willie was sent to clean up and on return served his mistress with a long, iced whisky and soda. Victor helped himself to a similar concoction in the small observation room. He was thoroughly enjoying this unusual and bizarre setting. It was not the kind of thing one saw, for obvious reasons, at the hotel.
What, he wondered, would Marcia do next? He felt sure she would exact some further toll from Willie. Poor fellow. His features looked very strained. Little wonder in view of his frustration and having to live with the knowledge that this woman could make him writhe in pain as the whim took her. Victor tried to put himself in his place. What must it be like to have every access to Marcia but the one he most urgently desired? Worse, possibly, not even to be able to slake his inflamed lust in any self-induced way? Victor pitied him in an abstract way ... but that emotion was more than corn compensated by the knowledge of the pleasure that Marcia gained from the situation. It was her pleasure that truly concerned him, not Willie's pain. If the man was crass enough to get himself into such a situation, he deserved all he got.
Victor had turned away, to, light a cigarette when his attention was drawn quickly back to the scene by an agonised yelp from Willie. Marcia, from her reclining position on the couch had just laid her switch across his flanks again. "Another drink, you oaf!" she rasped, "Don't just stand there daydreaming ... can't you see my glass is empty?"
Still juddering with the pain of the biting leather, Willie hurried to do her biding. It seemed a little unfair. If he had poured her another drink without orders that could have been wrong too. As a slave, you just could not win!
"About that task I set you this afternoon," said Marcia when he returned with her drink, "how many blocks did you fail to shift?"
Willie swallowed nervously. "I ... I counted twenty five, mistress," he answered. "I'm s-sure that's corret."
"It had better be," said Marcia. Her head nodded slowly. "You know what I promised you, don't you?"
"Yes, mistress," he answered despairingly. Victor felt he was close to tears.
"Well, you lazy oaf," said Marcia rising from the couch, "you'll get your punishment now!"
Willie's face broke momentarily. As Marcia rose, he fell to his knees ... and abjectly clasped her gleaming high-heeled boots. "Mercy. ... m-mistress ... have mercy ... I beg you...." he half sobbed. "As your slave I beg you for mercy...."
With considerable viciousness, Marcia implanted her pointed toe in his belly ... and he reeled back gasping. "You'll get what I promised you," she said venomously, her teeth baring in delight. "As you always will, when you fail to carry out my orders."
Defeat and despair were stark on Willie's pale, fleshy face. This was a route to torment he had following all too often before. "I did all I could," he said wretchedly.
"But not enough" replied Marcia coldly. As my slave you have to go beyond normal limits. Get yourself across that couch."
With a groan, Willie obeyed ... half kneeling, half draped over the Ottoman. Marcia bent and fastened his wrist manacles with two slim leather thongs attached to the far side. "A stroke for every five, I think," she said, "lucky for you I didn't make it one for one. Next time, maybe I will!"
Willie's weal-striped asscheeks were square to Victor. It seemed to him, in view of their tender state, that the punishment was quite adequate as it was! And this seemed to be born out when Marcia started to lay into him ... in view of his bellowing yells of pain and violent contortions. For Marcia did not stint herself ... each stroke was a full-blooded one, delivered with the full force of her arm and wrist. It was a superb sight to see her, naked and triumphant, breasts swinging, hips swivelling, putting every ounce into it. The fresh weals leapt up over Willie's wildly writhing buttocks and he was reduced to child-like, blubbering sobs.
"Wish you'd put more guts into it now?" demanded Marcia.
Marcia smiled sadistically down at the quaking hulk of male flesh. "Next time it might be ... remember that!"
"Yes ... yes, mistress ... I will ... I will!" Willie was reduced to a jelly of mortal dread. There was no doubt he would have promised anything ... done anything ... to escape Marcia's merciless lash.
As if conferring a favor, Marcia released him and, under her direction, he knelt and humbly kissed the plaited rawhide which had convulsed him with pain. That done, and again under Marcia's direction, he kissed her cunt with slavish devotion. No slave could have been more humblee or eager to please!
That was perhaps fortunate, for Marcia required yet further satisfaction from him. It was something she had planned for some time but had decided to save it for Victor's visit. She was sure he would find it amusing ... and she knew it would drive Willie to the limits of frustrated distraction.
"Slave," she said, when Willie had recovered something of his composure, "I intend to use you in a different way this evening."
Willie stood, strictly at attention before her, a look of apprehensive dread upon his face. He remained silent.
"As you know," went on Marcia, "now that you are my slave, you are no longer a man in the proper sense. Certainly you are not permitted to act as a man." Marcia looked significantly at the hard leather box which encased Willie. "You will, of course, be uncomfortably aware of that, is that not so?"
Willie nodded wretchedly. "Yes ... mistress...." There was a whining note of pleading in his voice. Marcia placed one leg up on a stool so that he could see every intimate detail of her clearly. "Speak the truth" she commanded. "You would like to enjoy me, would you not?"
"Yes, mistress...." he answered at once. For a moment there was a flicker of eager hope on his face. It was wiped off by a stinging slap from Marcia.
"That's for having the insolence to think you even might!" she said with a thin, wicked smile. Willie staggered under the blow and then quickly resumed his attention position. Resignation blanked his features again. He was obviously cursing himself for imaging that Marcia would ever relent!
"However," she continued, as Victor sat listening and looking, quite fascinated, "there is a way in which you can please me ... after the fashion of a man. However, the pleasure will be all mine. None will be yours!"
Naked, long-striding and dominant, Marcia stepped across the room. She opened a cabinet drawer and, to Victor's astonishment, produced a resplendent looking dildo! It was something he had seen Lesbians use often enough ... but he had never before seen it employed under such circumstances. It seemed that Willie's astonishment was equal to his.
"You've got the idea, of course," said Marcia, smiling as she came back towards him. But Willie was too dumbfounded to speak!
Marcia did not delay. She fastened the dildo on to him-over the hump of his box-securing it firmly by means of straps around his waist and thighs. "There," she said when she had finished, giving him a slap on the rump, "perhaps that makes you feel a bit more like a man for a change! Certainly you look a bit more like one!"
The dildo rearer up strong, thick and rigid before Willie. Any man would not have felt disgraced to be so naturally well endowed. It was a remarkably realistic replica of a male organ, having hardness yet relilience. In addition it was similarly coloured and had such refinements as a pad of pubic hair and a pair of danging balls. Willie's face was certainly worth seeing. It was mask of mingled frustrated fury and disbelief. He was to act the man, yet not be a man! Victor mentality handed out congratulations to Marcia for her inventive skill in creating such a situation.
He watched as she reclined again on the Ottoman, adjusting the mass of cushions to her satisfaction. Then she opened her thighs and raised her knees to display herself invitingly. "Now ... my proud lover...." she said with a sneering edge to her voice, "you will please me. You will please me exactly as I wish to be pleased." She gave Willie a hard look. "If you don't, TCI give you a hiding you won't forget in a hurry!"
Willie gulped nervously. He knew she meant exactly what she said. Marcia never threatened idly.
He came to the couch, knowing he had to play the part of a lover with skill and expertise ... to employ the dildo as he would have done his own prick, to give Marcia the maximum pleasure. One could see with what desperation he fought to control his feverish thoughs ... and what aching longing and lust there was within him to act naturally. But that was denied him. As he positioned himself between Marcia's thighs, as with delicate finesse he titillated the lips of her cunt with the knob of the dildo, he groaned with pain. The constriction of the 'box' was both the keenest mental and physical agony. Marcia sighed and relaxed, her eyes half closing. She was enjoying both the deepest sadistic satisfaction as well as sexual delight.
Willie inserted slowly, by degrees, meanwhile kissing and sucking Marcia's breasts. She sighed contentedly and shuddered with joy when, after a minute or so, Willie finally penetrated her fully. The dildo was big and strong and rigid. It needed little effort to imagine it as the real thing.
Then Willie began to fuck her. He began by using long, slowly, rhythmic strokes and soon his mistress was squirming with pleasure. He continued to gasp and groan intermittently with pain. It was the purest Hell to be so near such delight ... to perform every act which would have brought him it ... and yet to know only torment of mind and body! Victor began to understand how cruel a woman could be if she set herself out for it.
Steadily increasing his pace, Willie worked her up to an orgasm. Marcia gasped and moaned beneath him and he could feel the delicious writhing of her lush body. Her thighs were clasped around him and, with her knees drawn up, the high heels of her boots dug painfully into his tender buttocks.
The first climax over, he slowed his pace, just as he would have done as a true lover. For a while, Marcia lay quiescent, savoring the slow, easy thrust and withdrawl of the dildo.
"Slave ... slave...." she murmured softly, "Ahh ... it is good to have a slave...."
The slow rhythm continued for two or three minutes and then Willie began to work up the pace again. The thrust became faster and more brutal and Marcia began gaspingly to cry out her pleasure. Her haunches jerked and undulated in co-ordination with the strokes and Victor felt the stirring of his own lust as he recalled the familiar pleasure that gave. A pleasure that Willie was denied. All the same, out of terror of his mistress' wrath, he performed his role with assiduous expertise. He brought her to a second climax, her whole body quaking as her love juice flowed freely. In her ecstasy she clasped the sweating, muscular torso above her and cruelly buried her strong white teeth in Willie's neck and shoulder. He cried out at the additional pain he had to endure and Marcia's dark eyes glittered with sex-lust and female triumph. She could do anything she liked with this male creature!
"Again...." she said in a full-throated voice, "I want that all over again ... only better!"
Once more Willie slowed his pace and prepared to mount the long way that led to Marcia's full satisfaction. He began by titillating the hot, pulsating lips of Marcia's cunt with the knob of the dildo ... continuing to do so for something like a full five minutes. She lay back in an utterly abandoned posture, squirming and moaning with joy. She was, in effect, getting the kind of fucking that only a man of the strongest will-power could have given. Some one of the calibre of Victor!
"Now ... she kept groaning, "now...."
But still Willie held back the full, filling pleasure of the dildo from her. She had asked for it better ... and he had to make sure it was so.
When, at last, he trust home fully, suddenly and brutally, Marcia squealed uninhibitedly. Her back arched up and her bottom wriggled madly in quick, tight circles. God, thought Victor, that would feel wonderful if one was truly in her!
Willie bore down and fucked her long and hard, as she wished ... gasping and crying out as the vicious love bites continued. At first slowly and then faster ... faster ... faster ... he fucked, bringing Marcia to the highest peak of sex ecstasy....
When the final flood had convulsed her, she sank back, murmuring incoherently, eyes glazed, almost half fainting, it seemed. Willie, obedient to her wished to the end, slowed and stopped. Only very, very slowly, after some minutes did he withdraw.
* * *
"Remove that thing ... take it to the bathroom and wash it ... then put it back in the draw!"
Marcia was back in command of herself ... and of the wretched Willie. Still naked but for her highheeled boots, she reclined on the couch, a cigarette in her holder, a half tumbled of Scotch in her hand. On her face was an expression of cat-like, smug satisfaction. Willie hurried to obey and it amused Victor to think of him having to clean off his mistres' love juice. Most humiliating! He moved across the small room and switched on a mirror on the other wall. It looked into the bathroom.
Willie was half doubled up near the basin and was as good as sobbing. His hands were pressed to the leather 'box' fastened to him. "I can't bear it ... I can't...." he kept on murmuring in a low, hoarse voice. "I can't go on ... oh God help me ... help me...." He looked down with wild desparation at the hump of constricting leather and Victor sensed his fierce desire to tear it off. Poor devil! He was not even granted the release of being able to play with himself to obtain relief! At last, with a sob, he staggered to the wash basin and began to clean the dildo.
When he returned to the boudoir, Victor changed his observation point. Marcia had risen from the couch and was moving slowly to and from before the mantelpiece, the switch dangling from her right wrist.
"Well ... er ... under certain circumstances, I "Bend over and touch your toes," she ordered crisply.
Abject pleading blazed from Willie's eyes ... but he only hesitated momentarily. He had learnt the folly of disobeying his mistress's orders. He bent over, flinching nervously.
Marcia laid two hard cuts across his contracting nates, which sent him yelping agonisedly on to his knees. "Now get out ... get out of my sight!" rasped Marcia. She planted a cruel kick between the cleft of his buttocks ... and, as Willie half crawled, half stumbled, writhing to the door, she followed up with three more vicious, lashing cuts of the switch.
Willie's howls faded into the distance as the door slammed behind him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Very, very entertaining," said Victor. He was back in the main room again. "You certainly play the part to perfection. And, my God, does he know all about it, eh?"
Marcia smiled begingly as she handed Victor a drink. "Thanks," she said, "I hoped you'd be amased. I enjoy it enormously. No doubt, you saw that."
"I did," answered Victor. His eyes were fixed on Marcia's lush nudity. He himself hadbeen quite adequately roused by the spectacle ... and whereas Marcia was temporarily slaked, he was not. "I expect you feel pretty good," he said.
"Glowing," answered Marcia. "Hot all over ... it's Heaven...."
"Glowing," answered Marcia. "Hot all over ... its' Heaven...."
"Hot inside, too, eh?"
She grinned. "What do you think?" she replied pertly.
Victor put down his drink. "I intend to find out," he replied. Marcia looked disconcerted, shifting a little uneasily on the couch.
"I ... I've had enough, Victor," she said.
"Have you ... well I haven't!"
"Victor ... please...."
Victor rose ... and so do did Marcia. "No ... you beast ... you brute!" she cried. As she attempted to evade his grasp, she turned and received a stinging slap on her bare bottom.
"You're not the mistress now!" cried Victor with a laugh.
"Oww ... oh ... no ... stop...." Marcia ran from him but he siezed her fiercely. He dragged her struggling back towards the couch. "No ... no ... no" she yelled. She was half laughing, half serious. Half struggling, half yielding, too.
"I am going to fuck you!" said Victor, his voice thick with lust. "Really fuck you! You'll learn the difference between a lump of rubber and a real prick!"
Marcia already knew it, of course. She was wildly excited, but she continued to resist. Victor enjoyed her resistance ... and he knew all the time he could conquer her. Brutally he flung her down over the Ottoman ... across it. Then, falling on her, he tied her wrists by the same leather thongs which had earlier secured Willie's wrists when he was thrashed.
"No ... no ... you ... beast ... you brute ... I don't want it ... I don't ... I've had enough...."
"You're going to get it, all the same," laughed Victor exultantly.
He secured Marcia ankles, legs wide splayed, by further leather thongs on the other side of the Ottoman.
"I hate you!" she screeched, teeth bared.
But both she and he knew she really adored him ... particularly for what he was doing.
"Good...." he said, "All the same, you're going to be fucked ... well and truly...."
Victor completed his preparations by thrusting a mass of cushions beneath Marcia body, arching her up in a helpless, inviting curve. Her hot, pulsating cunt could not have been more helplessly or invitingly displayed. "I'll kill you for this," she growled, eyes flashing.
"As I told you," said Victor, "you are not the mistress now. I am the master.
"Ooooohhhh ... ooooohhhhh...." Marcia twisted and threshed, tugging madly at her bonds. She hated it, yet she loved it. It suddenly occurred to Victor that she would take out her hate of the male on Willie. And, frankly, at that moment, he didn't care!
Slowly Victor stripped until he was completely naked. He was already in full erection and his massive organ swayed rigid and menacing before him.
"This is a fucking you truly deserve," he said as he fell brutally upon Marcia's curving nakedness. In a moment he had plunged into the liquidmelting depths of her ... which had already been so repeatedly roused and then fully slaked. She felt absolutely superb!
"That's a prick," he grunted, ramming up as hard as he could, "a real prick!"
Marcia whimpered, striving still to halfway resist, but really loving it. Her cunt began to react instictively to the familiar, outsize organ. "Ooooh ... oooh ... you wonderful brute," she half sobbed.
Victor began to fuck her with a controlled sauggay, not caring about her, but only intent on his own enjoyment. He had that enjoyment to the full. Rarely could he remember Marcia's cunt being so hot and vividly alive. It was incredibly ... ecstatically ... exciting. All the same. Victor was no boy. He was able to control himself ... and, with great, sweeping strokes, continued to fuck and fuck with magnificent strength and virility.
If Marcia had though she had had enough, she soon realized differently. She began to cry out loudly in a tumult of searing sexual lust ... and she gave to Victor every fibre of her throbbing body.
Exultantly their nakedness pounded, thumped and intermingled. Furiously Victor rammed in deep ... deep ... deep ... again ... again ... again....
Both seemed to reach heights of frenzy even they had never known before....
And then ... stretched out ... out and out ... but at long last ... came the climactic eruption of their wild mutual lust.
And even when it came ... thundering and flooding ... it seem to go on ... and on ... and on ... and on!
* * *
Marcia lay whimpering softly. Afterwards, she realized for a while she had lost sensibility.
Victor lay like a stricken bull. Never, he thought, had he quite known such peaks in sexual ecstasy.
Together, they knew, however much they deviated, there would always be perfection between them.
* * *
On the following morning, Victor drove back to Paris.
He had made no contact at all with the wretched Willie. The last thing he heard, as he left Marcia's bedroom, was her summoning him up with the threat that if he wasn't there in double quick time with a jug of black coffee, he'd get a rod across his backside! Poor, poor Willie, he reflected. What days, weeks and months of torment lay ahead of him! Yet Victor could feel no real pity. Willie had had an unlucky draw in life. Added to that he had played his cards badly. Let him take the consequences!
Victor drove back fast ... but all the same stopped for an excellent lunch on route. One should always take time out for simple pleasures, he told himself.
The waitress who served him was a sexy-looking little thing in her teens. He would, Victor reckoned have made and admirable addition to the hotel. Perhaps, one day she would, if he took the trouble to go after her. Meanwhile he contented himself with pinching her bottom ... running his hand up under her skirt till he touched her soft, warm thigh ... and tipping her exceedingly well!
Back at the hotel in the evening, and feeling a little tired. Simone restored him with cool hands on his forehead ... and the stiffest of stiff brandy and sodas. Even so, Victor was still too tired to do more than play gently with the soft ripe fruits of her body, in the most gentle fashion.
A night's sleep, of course, and things would be very different!
All the same, before he finally retired, Victor was not too fatigued to send for the hotel register. A swift glance told his experienced eye that there seemed to have been some most interesting guests arriving while he had been away. And he was pleased to note that a number of 'old friends' still remained, Chez Victor.
