It has been said that the average man (or woman) leads a life of "quiet desperation," that modern civilization and especially the large urban areas are merely trapped enclosures behind which the basically free souls of men are caged and preyed upon.
In our society there are traps within traps; traps set by the stronger to capture the weaker. The Young Librarian is a story of one weak woman preyed upon by a gang of young hoodlums who are no better than animals. Unsuspecting, naive, inexperienced, Linda is caught by forces stronger, more cruel, than steel jaws, and her struggles-although valiant-are fruitless. Indeed, like the small fish caught on the cruel barb of the hook, her struggles only attract the larger predators.
The Publishers of Dansk Blue Books, in an effort to seek the very best for their readers, contacted one of America's leading suspense writers early last summer and commissioned him to do a novel for this new series. Intrigued by the possibilities of this type of project, the author closed his palatial resort home in Michigan and moved into the near-ghetto slum areas of New York and, later, San Francisco. Under the pseudonym of Rod Waleman, he became one of the hopeless and forgotten street people; he was one of them in clothes, in manner, and in thought. For a man whose work has appeared on television and has been printed in almost every country and language of the world, the Dansk Blue Books assignment was a revelation. Posing as a handicapped retired seaman with only a meager income, he moved into a shoddy hotel near the heart of the city. During the next three months he was mugged at least three times, threatened with death by a member of a Black militant organization, a victim several times of extortion and petty robberies, a witness to several knifings, and-from his third floor hotel window-saw half a dozen gang rapes of drunken female bar patrons take place in the alley beneath his window.
After his experiences, our author will never again be quite so sure of anything, never again be the same complacent person, and never again will feel the same way about the captives and the predators of our urban jungles.
And, after your reading of The Young Librarian, we feel that you can never again feel the same way about them.
This is a brutal story. Some critics, reading the advance copies of this important novel, have already categorized it as "pornography." Its scenes of unparalleled sexual candor and depravity obviously will, and do, offend many people who prefer to believe that such things do not happen.
Other critics, however, are hailing this as a classic in its genre. Linda, the main character, is a person that both the Marquis de Sade and Franz Kafka would recognize and enjoy. She is more, too; for in spite of everything that happens to her, she is a tribute to the unquenchable human spirit. She adapts. She will survive. There is even a moment when her impulses to love overcome her revulsion at being treated as the lowest and most contemptible of the lowly love slaves.
The Young Librarian is, in essence, a story of life as it is lived today in some quarters. Its characters are honestly drawn and all, without exception, have their counterparts somewhere in the darker shadows of the jungle of our cities. For that reason, we at Dansk Blue Books feel we must publish this important novel.
The Publishers
Chapter I
Linda Brumiglia closed the door to her small office in the cataloguer's section of the library and looked at the note neatly centered upon her desk. She was a tall girl with raven-black hair parted in the center, its glossy shoulder-length abundance draped with artful carelessness behind her ears and over her shoulders.
Frowning slightly, Linda bent forward to read the note, the dark waves of hair moving forward over the smooth ivory of her cheeks to frame the piquant beauty of her classic features. Not that she felt she really had to read the note; during business hours any messages Linda received invariably came from her older, married sister, Annette.
Linda shook her dark head as she read the message. STOP IN AT THE HOUSE ON YOUR WAY HOME FROM WORK. ANNETTE. Not even a please, Linda thought with resentment which still managed to be tinged with a hint of amusement. That was Annette for you. Although Annette certainly had problems enough to excuse a certain amount of brusque-ness these days. If only her phone calls weren't so demanding and such an almost-every-day affair. Linda was beginning to feel that she had no life of her own.
Absentmindedly Linda smoothed the seat of her print dress snugly over a plump hip. The demure knee-length of the brightly-printed dress was in contrast to the attractive dresses in Linda's closets with their provocative miniskirts, but on the job she felt that something more dignified was required. Her boss, Mr. Craven, had never brought up the subject, but Mr. Craven's own ministerial garb and majesterial manner intimidated Linda. She stood slightly in awe of Mr. Craven's bland, colorless efficiency. Mr. Craven wasn't much older than Linda's sister Annette, for that matter, yet he somehow contrived to give off an aura of nitpicky prudish-ness.
Reminded of Annette, Linda shook her head again. Linda was twenty-two; Annette was thirty-six, with a daughter Carole, seventeen. Six months ago after a flaming row that was the successor to many previous rows, Annette's husband, Jim Dandini, had walked out of the house and never returned. He had quit his marriage, his job, and his hopes for a pension from the company he had been with for twenty years.
Linda had been a witness to the gradual deterioration of the marriage. Annette was strong-willed, with a flaming temper. So was Jim Dandini. In earlier days, before matters turned serious, Annette had laughingly showed a blushing Linda the dark bruises and distinctly visible fingerprints inflicted by Jim Dandini's hard hands upon the otherwise sleek curves of Annette's milky-skinned belly, buttocks, and thighs.
In a way Linda admired Jim Dandini's complete pullout. She could never say so to Annette, of course. Jim had warned Annette that he would never pay alimony if the marriage disintegrated from Annette's nagging, and he was true to his word. He had simply disappeared. Annette had hired a private detective, in vain. She had ignored Jim's threat to her sorrow. She now worked four mornings a week in a real estate office to supplement the money for Carole's support which came from a lawyer each month, a lawyer who refused to even discuss the subject of Jim Dandini's present whereabouts.
Linda had timidly suggested to her strong-minded older sister that Annette initiate a reconciliation via the lawyer. Annette had refused scornfully. "I wouldn't give the sonofabitch the satisfaction of knowing I missed him," she declared flatly. "And I do miss him." The older sister had smiled ruefully at Linda. "I miss him in bed. I get so goddammed horny I can't stand myself." The smile died away. "But he'll come back on my terms or he won't come back." Linda sighed at the memory. She cleared her desk, put everything carefully away, and locked up. The cataloguing section was in a hideaway corner of the library and rarely subject to interruption of any kind, but Mr. Craven insisted upon a locked desk each night at closing time, and Linda obediently followed orders.
She picked up her handbag and walked through the long, deserted corridors to the main part of the library. Linda said good night to Miss Patten, the head librarian, the only one left in the semicircular well confronting visitors and from which they were funneled to the various library departments of their choice. Miss Patten was fiftyish and already shriveled in old-maidish, white-haired semi-senescence. Linda wondered occasionally with some uneasiness if this was what she herself had to look forward to within the somewhat smothering embrace of library employment.
It was a concern of Annette's, too. "What happened to So-and-So?" she would inquire upon the disappearance of another of Linda's short-lived suitors. Annette's matter-of-fact earthiness was as much a part of her as her quick temper. "Not enough prick for you?" She would grin knowingly at Linda's embarrassment. "Don't tell me you're not getting any, baby." The difference in their ages had resulted in Annette's calling Linda "baby" from Linda's childhood. "With your body, it would be the waste of all time." She would point a warning finger at Linda. "You've got to hustle up a hard-knocking type while you've got your flower years, baby."
Linda couldn't explain to Annette that it was precisely the hard-knocking types-or the would-be hard-knocking types-who turned Linda off. She couldn't explain it herself. She had tried sex in college, and it hadn't been all that much. It seemed she shrank instinctively from a pair of bold, probing masculine eyes. It hadn't only been Annette who insisted that Linda's tall-bodied, superb figure was withering on the vine, but Linda kept suitors at arm's length. She didn't consider herself prissy, merely choosy.
She went out through the library's side door to the parking lot. She turned the key in the ignition of her Chevelle and settled back for the drive to Annette's. She had wished for a bigger car, and she could have afforded it, since her living expenses were minimal and her salary quite good, but Mr. Craven drove a five-year-old Dodge and Linda couldn't bring herself to seem ostentatious.
She turned into Annette's driveway in the row of pleasant family dwellings on the quiet street and parked. She entered the kitchen door, the front door being used infrequently. "It's me," she called.
Annette appeared from the living room in housecoat and cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. Two inches shorter than Linda, she weighed fifteen pounds more. Not quite roly-poly, Annette assessed herself, just well-fleshed. A certain hardness of feature had dimmed what had been striking good looks, in her youth more dramatic than Linda's sweet-faced beauty. "Glad to see you, baby," Annette addressed Linda in her sexily husky voice. "C'mon in."
Once in the living room, she pressed a drink upon Linda that Linda didn't really want but meekly accepted. "I've got a problem," Annette announced, dropping down upon the couch in such a relaxed sprawl that the housecoat's semi-unbuttoned condition revealed Annette's plump, white thighs. Annette's careless posture parted the thighs to disclose the beginning of a shadowy juncture, and Linda looked away.
"What kind of a problem?" the younger sister asked, taking a first sip of her drink. She could hear no movement upstairs, so she assumed that Carole wasn't in the house.
"Well-" Annette paused to light a cigarette; she was an inveterate chain-smoker despite Linda's occasional protestations about the effect upon her health. "I dropped in at the house here the other morning on my way to show a house to some clients," she resumed. "And what did I find but Carole here, when she was supposed to be in school. And with a boy friend."
Linda raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I know," Annette continued. "I wondered, too. They had their clothes on, but I didn't get the feeling they'd had them on too long, if you know what I mean. I rousted the kid out of here and laid down the law to Carole: no more of that shit. She gave me some lip, and I slapped her. For a second I thought she was coming right after me -she's got Jim's share of temper as well as mine, you know-but she doesn't have that much nerve yet."
"So what happens now?" Linda wondered. "It could be entirely innocent."
"Carole is not the innocent type," Annette said grimly. "At age fourteen I caught her in the basement with her pants down and a boy's cock in her hand. I'd like to get her married so she'll lay off my birth control pills."
"Your birth control pills? Why do you need-" Linda swallowed. "I'm sorry," she said with a stiffness that surprised even herself. "It's none of my business."
"You wouldn't want me to miss out on anything strange in the neighborhood, would you?" Annette jibed. She stabbed out her cigarette in the ashtray with more force than necessary. "Not that there's all that much available. But getting back to Carole, I'm damned if I want any kid of mine taking on the Mexican Army while she's still in high school."
"But it's so different these days," Linda protested. "And if it's only one boy-"
Annette shook her head, as dark as Linda's. "She's running with a rough-looking crowd. I don't like their looks." She was looking speculatively at Linda. "Were you fucking at seventeen?" she asked bluntly.
Linda could feel herself coloring. "Of course not. I mean-" She hesitated. "I might have wanted to, at least once in a while, but as you said a minute ago, I didn't have the nerve."
"But you tried it in college?" Linda nodded self-consciously. "How did you like it, baby?"
Linda tried to frame her reply carefully. "Not -not as much as I expected. It wasn't-it wasn't-well, it left me asking myself what all the shouting was about."
Annette cocked an eye at her sister. "You must not have had the right man in the saddle, baby. The first time Jim jammed my cranny I nearly went out of my mind." She was silent for a moment. "God, I can get wet now just thinking about it." Her right hand started for the parted juncture of her housecoat, paused, then dropped upon the couch by her side. Linda could see the long fingers twitching.
"Were you a virgin when-when Jim did it to you the first time?" It was a question Linda had often wished to ask before but had never had the temerity. The occasion seemed propitious.
"Hell, no!" Annette laughed. It was almost a bugle-blare. "Of course Jim thought I was. I squeaked and whimpered like a good one while he shoved his pork into me. And I had a fragile little capsule of blood taped inside there I'd gotten from old Dr. Miglio. Jim was more than satisfied at the evidence when he looked at the sheet. All I had to do then was be careful not to catch on too quick to what he liked." She stood up abruptly. "Listen, I'm not doing myself any good by talking about it. C'mon upstairs. I want to show you a dress I bought."
Linda followed her sister upstairs. The dress was brought out and displayed, and Linda said tactful things. Actually, since Annette disdained a girdle, her short, plump figure usually strained the seams of whatever the older sister was wearing, achieving a provocative effect if not one of haute couture.
"Where the hell I'll wear it, I don't know," Annette was saying when the sound of a slamming car door gave her pause. She went to the bedroom window and looked out. "There he is!" she said tensely. "That young limb is out with him again!"
Linda went to the window. On the street below in front of the Dandini home was a fender-dented car with psychedelic decals and paintings all over it. Carole Dandini, tall and slender with athletic dark good looks inherited from both parents, said goodbye to a broad-shouldered youngster with rough-looking long blond hair that trailed well down on his shoulders, and strode up the front walk.
"I told her not to see him again!" Annette declared with the same intensity. "I'll break that pair up or know the reason why!"
"It may not be what-" Linda tried to wedge into her sister's monologue, but Annette wasn't to be denied.
"I know what it is," she said positively. "And I'll not permit it at her age." She listened to the sound of her daughter's footsteps ascending the stairs. "Carole!" she called. "Come in here a moment!"
Linda wished uneasily that she were elsewhere. Carole appeared in the bedroom doorway, darkly beautiful despite jeans and a boy's shirt. She nodded to Linda before looking at her mother warily, lips compressed.
"What did I tell you the other morning?" Annette began in a higher-pitched voice than normal. "Didn't I tell you I didn't want to see you with-"
"Forget it, mother," Carole interrupted. Her voice was cool, but Linda detected a flash of white knuckles upon a clenched hand.
"Forget it?" Annette's voice soared. "Don't you tell ME to forget it, you-you-who do you think you're talking to, your father? I'll teach-"
"Sure, you'll teach me like you taught him," Carole said in a world-weary tone that Linda sensed was again protective coloration.
Annette advanced upon her daughter, elbows out like a fullback plunging through the line. Carole didn't exactly retreat, but Linda could see the girl shrink in upon herself. "That's not you talking," Annette stated positively. "That's him talking." Carole said nothing. "Isn't it?" Annette demanded. "Well, isn't it?"
An inch taller than her mother although she weighed thirty pounds less, Carole hesitated before replying. "No, it's not. I'm-"
"He's putting the words in your mouth," Annette interrupted. "And you run to him and tell him that I drove your father away. Is that right?" Annette's voice was curiously gentle.
"Well, didn't you?" Carole flared.
"You put the family dirty linen right out on the front lawn," Annette went on in the same subdued tone. Then her right hand rose suddenly and cracked viciously on Carole's cheek. "WELL, I'LL TEACH YOU BETTER!" It was uttered in a shout all the more startling after Annette's previously subdued manner.
Carole staggered sideways from the force of the slap, then rushed at her mother furiously, dark eyes bright with unshed tears. "I'll- I'll-" she stammered, trying to return the slap. Annette coolly seized her arms and pinioned her. Carole stamped on her mother's foot, and Annette emitted a cry of pain. She swung the girl around and launched her at the bed. Carole bounced upon its center and sprawled half on her side.
Annette advanced upon the bed and loomed up over her. Carole flinched and covered her face with her hands. Annette laughed shortly. "Not so brave now, are you? And with good reason, you little slut. What do you mean by disobeying me when I told you to have nothing more to do with him? I checked him out, and I know what he is! A kid like you associating with a character like that! I tell you I won't have it!" Her face was flushed, and she was almost screaming.
Carole rolled onto her back, one hand protectively upraised. Defiance mingled with the fear shown on the young face. "You hit me again and I'll leave this house!" she blazed. "You couldn't handle your own man, so leave me alone with mine!"
Annette seized an ankle and flipped Carole onto her stomach. "Man! Yours!" Annette panted, almost choleric with anger. "You pipsqueak! What the hell do you know about a man? You're a child! And by God you're going to be treated as one!" She reached for the belt supporting Carole's jeans.
"Don't you touch me!" Carole cried, trying ineffectively to wriggle from her mother's grasp. "Don't you TOUCH me! I'll-I'll run away! I'll-oh!"
Annette ripped the top half of Carole's jeans right off her, not bothering to unfasten the belt. "Run away and be damned to you!" Annette retorted. "But I'll guarantee you one thing, missy -you'll run with the sorest ass you've had since you were a five-year-old! I'm going to polish you off as I should have been doing right along! Any time you think you can speak to your mother in that tone of voice-"
Linda watched, startled, as during this tirade Annette worked the ripped jeans down over Carole's womanly hips until the whole of the girl's pink-pantied behind was exposed.
"You leave me-ALONE!" Carole shrieked. She rose up on one elbow and tried to halt the down-sliding jeans with a quick grab behind her. Annette slapped her hand away. "Don't you dare-oh!"
Annette peeled the jeans completely down Carole's slender legs and off over her tennis shoes. "Come over here and hold her shoulders, Linda!" she ordered.
Linda stifled the instinctive "Oh, no!" that sprang to her lips. She knew she didn't want to become involved in this family quarrel, but from childhood she had been accustomed to obeying Annette who had functioned as a second mother due to the difference in their ages. Linda approached the bed reluctantly and placed her hands tentatively on Carole's shoulders.
Carole raised her head to stare up at Linda in disbelief. "You're helping her!" the girl cried out. "I thought you were my friend! I'll never forgive you for this!"
Linda started to back away only to be halted by Annette's glare. "I said hold her!" Annette bugled at Linda. Her black eyes were snapping with rage. "When I finish with this smartass she'll be singing a different tune!" While talking she had taken the inside-out jeans and used them to tie Carole's ankles securely together.
"Annette, maybe you should wait until-" Linda began tentatively.
"Shut up!" Annette cut her off. She marched over to the bureau and picked up a flat-backed wooden hairbrush and came back to the bed. "Meet your old acquaintance, Carol e," she drawled in one of the lightning changes of temper that her mercurial disposition afforded. To Linda she sounded almost pleasant, but Annette waved the hairbrush under Carole's flinching nose. "I'm going to wear about an eighth of an inch off this on your bare backside, girlie," Annette went on to declare. "And you know something? I'm going to enjoy it. You're not, but I am."
Linda winced as Annette leaned down over the bed and delivered a full-armed smack of the brush upon her daughter's pantied behind. "Ohh!" Carole exclaimed involuntarily, writhing her thighs and tied legs.
Annette dropped the brush momentarily to seize the waistband of Carole's panties and draw them well down on the girl's legs so that the gusseted crotch parted company from the area it was meant to conceal. Linda stared down at Carole's exposed bare globes, upon one of which was the stark pink imprint of the hairbrush's single descent.
"You don't-have to make-a holy show- out of me!" Carole gasped, shrinking at her exposure. Linda could see the girl's surprisingly wide sleek buttocks clench apprehensively. "Let me-GO, Linda! Don't help her-do this -tome!"
"You hold her!" Annette commanded Linda. "I want her to remember this!" She picked up the brush again, knelt down on the bed at an angle to her prostrate daughter's upturned nude buttocks, and raised her arm.
The "ooooh!" was preceded by a loud smacking noise. Carole's bare hips rotated in a furious circle as the mate of the first hairbrush mark sprang up on the opposite full globe.
Under Linda's restraining hands Carole's shoulders bucked unavailingly as the girl tried to turn over onto her side to get away from the smarting hairbrush. Linda held her face down upon the bed, half-revolted yet half-excited at the change the loud-smacking hairbrush was wreaking upon the girl's tender flesh. Carole's knees scrabbled beneath her ineffectively trying to get the purchase her tied ankles denied her. The new position merely raised her crimsoning naked seat into a more acute target position for the hairbrush, and Carole collapsed upon her stomach again with a despairing wail.
Annette pursued her daughter's spanked behind steadily, dealing stinging blows of the hairbrush impartially upon the full upper cheeks and the lower sitting portion. Two buttons of her housecoat had come loose from the fury of her efforts, and Linda could see Annette's large, grape-nippled bare breasts bobbing in the open from the violence of her hairbrush-wielding.
SMACK!! "Mo-THER! It-owww!" SMACK!! "Ooooh, it h-hurts! Please!" SMACK!! "Please, n-no more!" SMACK!! "Owwwwww! My bot-tom! My-" SMACK!! "-Ohhhhhh!"
The frantic circular movement of Carole's vermillioned body-cushions availed her nothing against Annette's unerring aim. In a frenzied burst of energy Carole half-escaped Linda's grip and rolled onto her side, disclosing the bunched dark curls at the apex of her thighs. "Hold her!" Annette snapped, poising the hairbrush. Linda flattened the struggling girl again, putting her own stomach on Carole's head.
Annette at once resumed the spanking.
If anything, it seemed to Linda that her vigor increased.
Even the sound of the hairbrush biting into Carole's contorted flesh had changed.
Carole yelled, bleated, pleaded, sobbed, moaned, shrieked, yelped, and whimpered as the relentless hairbrush blistered her fiery behind. Her bottom heaved up and down as its pain-wracked surface turned to a deep rose hue. Linda could detect an incipient note of hysteria in the girl's steady, hoarse outcries.
Annette reached out suddenly and gripped one of Carole's buttocks in her hand. Widening it from its twin, she spanked at the newly disclosed white unspanked flesh thus revealed while the girl's frantic shrieks and contortions increased. Her mother, unmoved, did the same for the other hind cheek while Carole sought to turn herself inside out.
Annette flung down the brush suddenly. "There, by God!" she declared with obvious deep satisfaction. "Now that's what I call a well-spanked behind!" She lowered herself until her nose was inches from her daughter's rosy, shuddering flesh and sniffed strongly. "You can smell the heat in that particular smartass, Linda." She chuckled.
Linda wondered if Annette had any idea how she looked. She was almost out of her housecoat, both top and bottom. Her face was almost as scarlet as Carole's backside, and a sheen of perspiration glistened on her face. Carole's knees dug into the bed with little grabbing movements as she tried to ease her smarting flesh into an easier position. Linda raised herself from her position atop Carole's head and shoulders as the girl's soft moans continued unabated.
"Giving me that lip about her man!" Annette snorted. She stared down at her daughter's twitching, rough-reddened backside speculatively. "I wonder if she really has been laying for that longhaired character?" She reached down and put her hands under Carole's stomach. "Help me turn her over, Linda."
Actually Annette needed little help from, Linda in turning the unresisting Carole onto her back. The girl whimpered anew as her weight pressed down upon her burning bare behind, but she made no resistance. Annette impatiently removed the knotted jeans from the slim ankles, then almost in the same motion parted Carole's thighs and inserted two fingers into her daughter's dark-haired pussy.
Carole's body jerked convulsively, but again she made no effort to resist. "Goddam wet deck down here," Annette announced matter-of-factly as Linda stared unbelievingly. She probed with her fingers until she found Carole's cunt-hole and the long fingers disappeared inside. Carole flinched again and covered her face with her hands.
"Can't feel a thing," Annette declared as the edges of her knuckles folded back her daughter's cunt-crease. "No hymen for sure. How do you like that? I ought to whale her all over again." She removed her hand and wiped her dripping fingers on Carole's jeans.
"Oh, no!" Linda said. She found herself staring down at Carole's slack-kneed exposure, the girl's pouting cunt-lips oozing slightly from the vigorous exploration against which she had made no protest. "I'm sure-I'm sure you've made your point, Annette." With an effort Linda wrenched her gaze away from Carole's slow-dripping pussy-lips.
"I wish I were as sure of it as you seem to be," Annette declared. "She's been defying me for months. It's more than time that I showed her what's what around here. And if she gives me any more trouble her behind will bear the consequences. That's something she understands. I'll-" Annette paused at the sound of the faint ring of the telephone downstairs. "I'll get it," she said and hurried to the door.
Silence descended upon the room with Annette's departure. Carole shifted slightly onto her side to get the weight off her behind, disclosing her full moons again, already fading to a dusty pink in color. She whimpered slightly at the pull of taut muscles upon spanked flesh. "You h-helped her," she said over her shoulder to Linda in a hoarse whisper racked by a choked sob. "You helped her. I th-thought you were my f-friend. I'll never f-forgive you. N-never." She sniffled loudly, then raised her head to look over the curve of her shoulder at Linda. "And I'll get even w-with you, too. And with h-her." The girl stared balefully at the door through which Annette disappeared.
"You don't want to feel like that," Linda said gently. "She's your mother. You disobeyed her, so she punished you. But it's over now, and she loves you."
Carole's snort was interrupted by another strangled sob. Linda couldn't assess her own feelings. Compassion for Carole, yes, but a strange tingling excitement centered in an intimate portion of her own anatomy. Thighs tightly clenched, Linda was unwilling to admit her own dampness. Her gaze still rested fascinatedly upon Carole's reddened behind. She felt ashamed of herself for staring, but she couldn't remove her eyes from the girlish bare hind cheeks glowing from their immolation.
Carole caught sight of Linda's inspection of her nude backside. Deliberately the girl reached behind her and spread and lifted a hind cheek, disclosing the perspiration-darkened hair in the deep crevice and the tiny brown buttonhole. "Go ahead and l-look," she said defiantly. "My day is c-coming."
Once more Linda wrenched her gaze away. "I didn't mean it like that," she protested. "I thought-I thought I might be able to do something for you," she concluded lamely.
Carole sniffed but didn't reply. Linda heard the sound of Annette's footsteps on the stairway, and the older sister re-entered the bedroom. "I must-I should get home right away," Linda said hurriedly. "I'll leave-you two are sure to have things to talk over."
"That we have," Annette agreed with a sardonic glance at the semi-nude girl on the bed. Carole had once more turned her tear-streaked face toward the wall. "Like where her virginity went."
Linda left the bedroom and descended the stairs.
Seated behind the wheel of her car again, she stared through the windshield.
The palms of her hands felt damp, and her thighs were still tightly clasped. There was a fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't seem to control the rapid rate of her breathing. In her mind's eye she couldn't obliterate the sight of her niece Carole's brightly crimson bare behind plunging agitatedly under the smarting hairbrush.
Linda's hands were shaking slightly when she finally grasped the steering wheel. She started the car and drove to her inexpensive three-room apartment. She had the top floor, and the second floor was vacant right now, assuring her plenty of privacy. The landlord, an elderly man, lived on the first floor, but was often absent.
She parked at the back of the building. Getting out of her car, she waved absently to Walter Cummings, the hulking janitor and man-of-all-work about the place, who was pruning the hedge. Walter waved back shyly. The big man, burdened with a low intelligence quotient, slow-thinking, slow-moving, still managed to be cheerfully eager at taking care of Linda's occasional small requests in the way of maintenance.
She climbed the back stairs on legs that still trembled slightly in the aftermath of her arousal, unlocked, her door, and stepped inside. She set down her handbag on the telephone table in the tiny hallway, then walked into her bedroom like a sleepwalker. She paused for a moment to study her features in the boudoir mirror. None of the inner unease she felt was visible upon her high-cheekboned, piquant face under her crown of dark hair except for a slight dilation of her eyes.
As an afterthought, she returned to the hallway, locked the door, and slipped on the chain latch. Back in the bedroom, she began to undress, slowly at first, then more quickly. Dress, half-slip, pantie-girdle and bra were hurriedly discarded. Her stockings hung limply on her thighs with their garter-supports removed.
Linda opened her closet door, revealing a full-length pier-glass on its inner side. She stood silently, surveying her nudity in the mirror. Only the stockings and her high-heeled shoes broke the symmetry of her ivory-and-cream flesh-symphony. Firm, jutting breasts flaunted their dark-nippled monitors. The solid sweep of belly dipped sharply from its convex curve into her fleecy-haired thigh-juncture.
She turned and dreamily considered over her shoulder her wide-flaring alabaster buttocks beneath the slender stalk of her nude waist. Silky-looking flesh with downy hairs adorning nascent amplitudes stared back. At the outer quadrants of the upstanding sturdy white spheres two deep dimples winked at each movement.
Linda confronted the mirror again. Her right hand stole toward the glossy black curls hiding her mount, then retreated. She hesitated a moment, then backed toward the bed and sat down tensely on its edge, still watching herself in the mirror. Once more her hand moved in the direction of her mount, and restrained itself. Or was restrained.
And then with no further hesitation Linda rose from the bed, walked rapidly to the bureau, and opened the bottom drawer.
Chapter Ii
Linda turned over underclothes at the back of the drawer impatiently before she found what she was seeking. She straightened up holding a vibrator in her hand, ivory-white in color and thumb-thick in circumference. She turned its base and listened to the vibrant buzz, placing the tip on her abdomen.
Gooseflesh jumped up on her arms, and she hurried back to the bed. En route she passed her discarded clothing. Linda sank down on the bed and immediately dropped onto her back, elevating her legs. In the pier-glass mirror across the room a full-figured girl with down-drooping stockings elevated and widened her legs, displaying a hairy cunt that pouted for the approaching vibrator. Linda averted her eyes from the mirror.
She worked the rounded tip of the vibrator into her red-lipped vagina, gently at first and then with increasing force. An inch of the vibrator disappeared, then two inches. Linda worked it in and out, in and out, her rapid breathing turning harsher. Her distended cunt gulped still more of the offering, and Linda shivered at the flood of sensations pouring through her, curling her toes. Her nipples stood erectly, hard as gumdrops.
She reached for the base of the vibrator and again twisted it. She moaned aloud as the muffled buzz sounded more faintly and the agitation of her inner flesh nearly drove her out of her mind. She plunged the vibrator in and out fiercely while the buzzing titillated her and she reached with her free hand between her legs for her upstanding clitoris.
Linda gasped as her forefinger massaged the stiff-standing bud. Muscles jumped in her upraised thighs and she threw her hips upward at the vibrator clutched tightly in the other hand. Feverishly she plucked and pinched her rosy clit while her buttock-cheeks shivered and shook in their insane dance. Then she wailed loudly as her legs thrashed independently of her. Her head went back and her eyes closed as she kicked wildly and humped herself upward as a hot gush of quick-spurting liquid enveloped her interior walls and the vibrator.
For a few seconds long shudders rippled through her naked body.
Then Linda reached frantically for the base of the vibrator-lodged almost to the hilt in her gaping cunt now-and turned it off. She slumped on her back again, eyes glazed. She stared indifferently at first at the mirror-image of the girl on the bed with slack thighs disclosing the one-inch butt of the vibrator protruding from between the juncture of her thighs.
She moaned aloud again as a quick rush of shame enveloped her. How many times had she promised herself she wouldn't use the vibrator any more? She was no better than an animal. A sexual animal. It disgusted her. Angrily she plucked the vibrator from her twitching core, heedless of its rough dislodgment. Sticky strings of her own spend dripped from the vibrator's well-lubricated tip onto her bare thighs.
She stumbled from the bed and went into the bathroom.
She couldn't bear to look at her flushed face in the mirror.
Walter Cummings knelt down in the hallway outside the door of Linda Brumiglia's apartment. He applied his eye to the keyhole. The mounting excitement with which he had watched her graceful progress across the yard and the effort involved in climbing the stairs had combined to quicken his breathing and blur his vision. He backed away from the keyhole and brushed quickly at his eyes with the back of his hands.
He knew there was no one in the building except the two of them, so he had no need to fear discovery at his attempted voyeurism. Nor was it the first time he had crouched outside this particular door. He reached into a pocket of his work pants and removed a penlight-sized miniature telescope the tip of which he applied to the keyhole. Trying to control his breathing, he put his eye to the telescope.
He had long ago noted while doing odd jobs inside the apartment that the keyhole commanded a tunnel-vision view of the girl's bedroom beyond her living room. If the bedroom door was open. Sometimes it was closed, and he had to go away disappointed. But today it was open, and he focused the telescope eagerly.
The girl's bed with its deep maroon bedspread sprang into clear view. Beyond it was an armchair and a reading lamp. The bedroom appeared to be empty. He wondered if the girl were in the kitchen. Then he sucked in his breath sharply. She had just appeared suddenly in the bedroom, silhouetted against the dark bedspread.
Walter Cummings shivered. He licked his lips avidly. The girl was naked. Naked! He had caught glimpses of her in various states of undress before as she walked from bedroom to bath, but never anything like this. He stared, petrified, as the magnified girl in the telescope-eye sat down on the edge of the bed. She held something in her hand, but he couldn't quite make out what it was.
Ardently he studied the superb figure on the bed. Except for her shoes and stockings, she hadn't a thread on. The beautiful swelling breasts with their grape-nippled teats made his mouth go dry. The sweetly-sloping curve of her white belly that merged into her plump, snowy thighs took more of his breath away. In the telescope he could almost count the individual hairs of the raven-black, mossy triangle covering her lower stomach and mound.
His eye at the telescope widened incredulously as the girl on the bed suddenly dropped onto her back and elevated and widened her legs, her ungartered stockings drooping. Walter Cummings's breath almost stopped. He had an almost-head-on view of her pink sex-crease openly displayed. Unconsciously he licked his lips again. He had never seen anything like this before!
He watched puzzledly as her right hand with the object he had been unable to identify poked at herself, right at the sweet core of her being. The girl's pussy at first refused the offering, and then it slowly began to disappear inside her. She was shoving something into herself, Walter Cummings told himself ecstatically! Right where a man's prick should go!
The girl worked the object in and out, in and out. Walter Cummings groaned. His straining prick was hurting in the tight confinement of his drawers. The telescope-eye picked up the girl's distended nipples straining at the ceiling. The object between the girl's thighs went in farther and farther, and Walter Cummings's breath turned harsh. He could see her round white thighs vibrating and the bowl of her stomach heaving.
Furiously he unzipped his work pants and dragged his massive cock out into the open, meantime observing every writhing movement of the girl on the bed. He worked his meat in his hand, slowly at first, then harder, as the girl on the bed suddenly threw her legs straight up in the air. She was plucking and pinching at the little button just above the inserted object, and the delicious round white cheeks of her ass had lifted from the bed and were shaking like a dog just out of the water.
Walter Cummings growled deeply in his throat as the girl's slender legs kicked wildly and her naked ass humped itself upward repeatedly from the bed. Without his realizing it his prick started to spurt suddenly, and he deluged the apartment door with his come. His eye at the telescope disclosed the girl sprawled limply on the bed, the previously thrashing legs limp.
Suddenly afraid, Walter Cummings snatched a rag from his back pocket and swabbed off his diminishing joystick. Frantically he wiped up the evidence of his spend from the door and hallway carpeting. Once more he applied the telescope to the keyhole, but the bed was empty.
He returned the telescope to his pocket and went heavily down the stairs.
Linda drew a tub of hot water in the bathroom, then stared down at it restlessly. She sat down in it and laved her pussy-lips with both hands, then climbed out again. There was a fire in her interior that refused to be extinguished.
She walked through the bedroom, dripping, went to the telephone and dialed. "Helen?" she said when a feminine voice answered. "May I come over? Right now?"
"Why not?" a cheerful voice said. "You sound turned on."
"Am I ever," Linda said grimly. "And I don't really know why. I'll be right there."
She threw on clothing and went out to her car. It was a short drive. Helen Dickinson, physical education instructor at the local high school, had a room on the second floor of a comfortable home. Linda shivered when she got out of her car after parking in front of the house. She hadn't dried herself thoroughly, and the vagrant breeze was chilly as it inserted itself under her garments.
No one was on the ground floor. Linda trotted up the stairs to Helen's room and immediately closed the door behind her. She stood with her back pressed to it, and she could hear her own breathing. "I don't know what's the matter with me, Helen," she said huskily, "but do something! Please!"
Helen Dickinson was a chunky redhead with a pleasant, lightly-freckled face. She had on a wraparound short bed jacket which disclosed powerful-looking thighs and calves indicative of many hours of field hockey. The evidence was plain upon her upper thighs that her freckles weren't restricted to her facial features. The redhead advanced upon Linda and threw her arms around her. "Well!" she exclaimed in surprise as her quick-patting hands discovered Linda's nearly nude state. "What have we here? Lady Godiva one degree removed?"
"I-feel-awful!" Linda said jerkily, lightning flashes running through her at the intimate assault of Helen's clever hands upon Linda's lightly clad buttocks, breasts, and thighs.
"Sounds to me like a case of the hots," Helen said briskly. "And you did right to come to Dr. Dickinson about it." She raised the hem of Linda's dress and Linda helped in the pulling of the garment off over her head. Her underwear followed quickly. Helen's square-looking, capable palms laved Linda's nude flesh, and Linda bit her lip furiously as quick-darting heat-lightning infiltrated her interior.
Linda's hands plucked at the waist-tie of Helen's bed jacket, and the redhead shrugged out of it casually. Her skin was flawless, dazzlingly white, hidden only by severely-cut white panties. Without bothering to remove them, Helen drew Linda toward the bed and seated her upon its edge.
At once the redhead dropped on her knees and pressed her lips to Linda's smooth stomach. The bright chestnut head moved east and west and then south as the soft lips imposed butterfly kisses upon Linda's quivering flesh. "Dear God, Helen!" Linda groaned. "Don't tease!"
Helen at once lifted Linda's thighs and parted them. Linda went down on her back very much as she had been upon her own bed. Helen draped Linda's long legs over her shoulders, then swooped down with her mouth upon Linda's upthrust jewel box. Linda flinched as the warm mouth descended ravenously upon her most intimate flesh, lipping it and sucking at it.
Helen lifted her head slightly to look upward at Linda's flushed face staring down between her breasts. "Very hot," she murmured. "Steam any second."
"Don't talk!" Linda whispered. Her eyes were closed and she was twiddling her nipples between thumb and forefinger.
The redhead plunged her mouth down again upon Linda's twat. She tongued it from end to end, penetrating the pouting crease, then swished her tongue flirtingly well into Linda's aching hole while Linda's bare thighs jerked.
Helen sucked the whole of Linda's cunt into her mouth and worked at it greedily. Linda's breath whistled between her clenched teeth. The redhead lipped at Linda's clit and then grazed it with her teeth while shivering explosions shattered Linda's mind. Helen alternately swallowed and noisily expelled the dark-haired girl's quivering quim, her generous-sized mouth hardworking both in acceptance and penetration.
Linda's legs stiffened around Helen's head as Linda felt the onslaught of a deep tingling in her quiver. "Here it-comes!" she cried out, thrusting upward with her hips. "Here-it comes!"
Her legs soared upward until her high heels pointed at the ceiling. Her middle jerked spasmodically as she spent furiously into Helen's hard-searching mouth. Her hands reached downward to clutch at Helen's bare shoulders and hold her closer to her task. Linda ground her wet-lipped, spurting cunt into Helen's face as her convulsion racked her.
She collapsed with a tired sigh as Helen daintily licked the excess spend from Linda's greasy cunt-lips, more crimson now than pink. "Ohhhhhhhhhhh!" Linda moaned upon an expiring note. "Did I ever need that!"
Helen climbed upon the bed with her and took her in her arms. "You were a mite warm," the redhead admitted as the two soft bodies snuggled together. "Someone wave something at you from a doorway?"
"No." Linda kissed the point of Helen's smooth shoulder and a strawberry-nippled bubby. "The only thing I can attribute it to is that I saw a young girl spanked." Helen raised an inquiring eyebrow. "A real, honest-to-john, bottom-reddening, behind-hurting spanking."
"And that turned you on?" Helen sounded puzzled.
"I don't understand it, either," Linda said. "I went right home and got out the vibrator, which you know I hate to do, and even that didn't help."
Helen rubbed her palm slowly over the smooth slope of Linda's bare belly. "I'm glad I was the beneficiary," she replied, lowering her head to run the tip of her tongue in and out of Linda's navel.
"It's your turn now," Linda reminded her.
"What would you like me to do?"
"I'd love a good dildo-ing," Helen said wistfully.
"Fetch it," Linda said. "I'll do you up brown."
Helen rose from the bed and went to her closet, her large breasts bobbing freely. She returned with a thick rubber penis attached to thigh loops and a waistband. Helen removed her white panties while Linda slipped her feet into the loops and drew them up on her thighs. She turned around and presented her back to Helen who fastened the waistband of the dildo snugly around Linda's waist, buckling it in the back. When the buckling was completed, the eight-inch black piece of hard rubber jutted firmly upward from between Linda's thighs.
Linda slipped a hand into the bright red curls clustered over Helen's pussy. With her other hand she patted Helen's large buttocks before squeezing each hind cheek in her fingers. The thought came to Linda fleetingly that here indeed was a bare behind for spanking, massively full-fleshed. Then Helen shivered at the playful touch of Linda's hands and moved toward the bed.
She arranged herself in its center with a pillow under her hips. The fleecy red hair on her lower belly thinned out over her gash, disclosing already moist pink lips dilated slightly. Linda traced with a fingertip the whole course of Helen's damp slit, and Helen's shiver was renewed. The redhead stared up at the ceiling, her mouth working.
Linda inserted a finger into Helen's quim and found her becoming wetter by the instant. Linda finger-frigged her briskly, and Helen's thighs climbed instinctively as additional color rushed into her face. "Oh, God!" Helen groaned, grinding her thighs together over Linda's wrist. "Put it in me-quick!"
Linda moved on her knees in between Helen's wide-parted thighs. She dipped two fingers again into Helen's swimming juices and moistened the tip of the rubber prick, then did the same for half its length. The dildo-harness held the mock-prick in place so tightly that it almost seemed a part of Linda.
Linda leaned forward and inserted the tip of the dildo-prick into Helen's quiver. The redhead panted loudly as she felt the contact. Cautiously Linda began to press forward. The black rubber shaft separating the two white bellies began to disappear within Helen. Linda joggled it from side to side, and Helen gasped. The redhead threw her hips up to meet the intruder spearing her cunt. In two quick surges Linda penetrated all the way and the warm bellies slapped together.
Linda lowered herself upon Helen until four stiff-nippled breasts rubbed at each other. Then Linda began to raise and lower her own hips, pumping in a steady rhythm as the hard black rubber glided in and out of Helen's bulging cunt. The redhead's hands came down upon Linda's shoulders and clasped her firmly. For two minutes the only sound in the bedroom was the commingled heavy breathing and the slight sucking sound the dildo made as it was worked in and out of Helen by Linda's hip-thrusting energetic movements.
Then Helen squealed shrilly and threw her head back. Her hands kneaded Linda's shoulders forcefully as her thighs tightened around Linda's waist. Her big behind rose clear of the pillow on each upward thrust as she met Linda's downstrokes. She squealed again, her head tossing from side to side, her bright red hair wildly disordered.
"I'm-coming!" she cried out in a strangled tone. Her hip movements became more urgent. "Oh, Roy! I'm-oh, Roy! Fuck me, Roy! Fuck meeeeeee!"
She subsided with a whimper after the long-drawn-out "meeeeee" died away. Linda rested quietly upon the broad platform of Helen's ample stomach before raising her head to stare curiously at Helen's flushed face. "Who's Roy?" she inquired. Helen didn't reply, and Linda reached down and pinched a plump hind cheek. "Who's Roy?" she repeated.
Helen smiled at her dimly. "A fellow I knew," she said. "I guess I should have married him, but my folks objected." She inserted a hand between their bodies and played with one of Linda's breasts. "You want some?"
"Not from this monster," Linda said emphatically. She withdrew cautiously from Helen's cunt and sank back on her heels. Both looked at the long, glistening expanse of rubber coated with Helen's spend. "That big thing would kill me," Linda added. "I don't know how you can take it up in you like that."
"I've got a smaller one," Helen answered.
Linda shook her head and climbed from the bed. She reached around behind her to find the buckle on the waistband of the dildo. "I've had enough for today, thanks," she said. With the waist-fastening released, she pushed the thigh-straps down her legs and stepped out of the harness.
Helen left the bed and joined her, and the two nude figures blended as they exchanged a long kiss. Helen rubbed her breasts gently against Linda's, but Linda broke the kiss and stepped back. "I've got to get back to my place," she said. "Thanks for the mouth job. Maybe with a tranquilizer I can sleep tonight now."
She crossed the room to pick up her dress. "Isn't it awful to be so-so much like an animal sometimes? I don't mean with you, Helen, but sometimes when I use the vibrator on myself I get so ashamed afterward."
"Not before, and not during," Helen said lightly. "Just afterward. Doesn't that tell you something about our female natures?"
"Sometimes I don't like my female nature very much," Linda said seriously. She pulled the dress over her head and tugged it down over her hips. The expression on her beautiful face was quite sober.
"Do you dream about men at night?" Helen asked.
Linda paused to consider. "I don't really think I dream about men. Men that I know, I mean. When I do dream it's mostly about what we do together, I guess."
"But you can't help feeling that we're just awful?" Helen questioned.
Linda nodded shamefacedly. "When I think about it in cold blood," she admitted. "But when I get really hot, I want it. All of it."
"You need a man," Helen said decisively.
"You mean you don't?"
"Of course I do. And I'm looking," Helen said. "Meantime our little games are second best."
They exchanged smiles, kissed lingeringly, and Linda left Helen's residence.
Linda returned to her apartment late that evening. The cataloguing section didn't work on Saturdays, and she was looking forward to the free weekend. She parked her car in its usual slot in the marked-out area behind the building, then climbed the two flights of stairs at the rear entrance to her third-floor apartment.
She unlocked the door and let herself in, depositing her handbag as usual on the telephone stand in the small hallway. Two strides inside the living room she came to a dead stop, both hands flying instinctively to her breasts as she stared at the two silent figures sitting in her living room chairs. "Oh!" Linda gasped as recognition dawned. "Carole!" She drew a deep breath. "You startled me so!" Her glance flicked from her silently staring niece, only five years younger than Linda herself, to the occupant of the other chair. With a growing sense of unease Linda recognized the broad-shouldered, long-blond-haired boy out of whose car Carole had emerged the afternoon she stirred her mother's vengeful wrath. "How-how did you get in here?" Linda asked with more nervousness than she liked to admit. That big hulk of a boy with his Prince Valiant haircut and a distinct smirk on his handsome face...
Carole broke her silence. "Did you forget that mother had a key to your apartment, Aunt Linda?" she inquired. "I borrowed it." She smiled elaborately. "And I brought you something." Without getting up from her chair she opened her bag and took out the same flat-backed wooden hairbrush Linda had seen wielded so vigorously by Annette.
Linda stared at it uncomprehendingly for an instant, then with dawning awareness, and finally with fear. "You-you don't-" she began in a choked voice.
"Oh, yes, I do," Carole interrupted her. The seventeen-year-old rose to her feet. "I told you I'd get even for what you did to me, didn't I? I brought this along to give you a taste of the same thing."
Linda felt difficulty in breathing. Surely this was a joke? A hideous joke? But the look in Carole's eyes, the determined expression on the young face, and the deliberately suggestive movements with which she swished the hairbrush through the air... Linda felt her stomach lurch involuntarily. "You-you don't mean it," she forced herself to say. "You c-couldn't-"
"Perhaps I couldn't if I was alone," Carole said equably. "That's why I brought Charlie along. If you don't undress and turn up your bare behind to the hairbrush, Charlie will undress you for me."
Linda stared in mounting horror at the openly-grinning blond boy who was regarding her with frank appreciation. At close range she could see that his blond hair was matted and greasy-looking and his open-necked shirt was dirty. "C-Carole," Linda faltered. "You c-can't mean it. You wouldn't s-shame me like that. You-"
"You had no qualms about helping while mother shamed me, did you?" Carole said sharply.
"Hut I didn't mean you any h-harm," Linda pleaded. "She-Annette is your mother. She- she's entitled-"
Linda paused when Carole pointed the hairbrush at her. "I'm entitled," the tall dark girl said grimly. "I warned you. Stop stalling. Get your clothes off." She smiled wickedly. "You've no idea how I've been looking forward to this."
Linda groped for a plea that would make a dent in the hard shell of her niece's vindictive-ness, then realized miserably that there was none. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, then pivoted and ran toward the phone in the hallway. Behind her she heard the quick pound of feet as Charlie bolted from his chair like a big cat and ran her down before she even reached the doorway. His big hands grabbed her around the waist and swung her back into the living room, and his hands managed to be both rough and suggestive upon her body at the same time.
"I told you she'd make a break for the telephone, didn't I?" Charlie grinned at Carole.
Linda struggled in the grip of the hard hands. An odor of unwashed male assailed her nostrils. She wrenched herself free with a mighty effort. "You let me-ALONE!" she panted in what was almost a shriek.
Hands on hips, he confronted her with a leering grimace intended for a smile. "Go ahead and yell if you think it will do you any good," he advised. "The place is empty. I checked."
Linda thought she was going to faint. This couldn't be happening to her, but there stood the hard-eyed Carole, hairbrush in hand, and the smirking hulk, Charlie...
Carole took charge again. "Take her skirt off, Charlie. I'm tired of waiting for her."
"No!" Linda exclaimed. Her hands went fumblingly to the waist of her lightweight skirt into which her blouse was tucked. "I'll-I'll do it."
"Then do it," Carole warned. "Charlie would love to help you, I know, so no more stalling."
Linda felt sick at the smirking inspection she was undergoing from the blond boy's mocking eyes. Her hands slowly unfastened the snap-catch of her skirt while she sought frantically to find a way out of her dilemma. But she couldn't think of anything. With the building empty, and the phone denied to her...
"How you gonna do it?" Charlie was asking Carole with obvious interest.
"We'll take her into the kitchen," Carole replied. "Bring along a pillow from the bed and we'll stretch her out over her own kitchen table. I want plenty of arm-room when I swing this thing at her bare butt." She swished the hairbrush suggestively, and Linda's stomach lurched again.
Charlie picked up a pillow from the bed as Linda reluctantly guided the skirt down over her hips. She stepped out of it and looked appealingly at Carole. "Charlie!" the girl said sharply, and Linda's hands flew to the waist of her half-slip.
"I'll do it! I'll do it!" Linda said shakily. The thought of those hard hands even close to her and the unwashed male odor in her nostrils made her feel faint again.
Charlie had walked into the kitchen. "Bring her in here," he called. "The light's a lot better."
"Move," Carole said to Linda with another flourish of the brush. Linda forced her weak-feeling legs to carry her across the room. In the kitchen Charlie already had the pillow placed oil its long axis on the formica-topped table. The roof of Linda's mouth went dry as she looked at it. To lie down on that pillow on her stomach with her bare behind thrust out over the table's edge... what could be more ignominious?
"Awww, I'd better help her," Charlie suggested to Carole as Linda stood half-paralyzed.
"You're a bit too willing!" Carole snapped as Linda hastily stripped down her half-slip and unzipped her pantie-girdle. "What I want you to do is hold her down on the pillow when she gets on it. Stand at her head."
"How'm I gonna stand at her head and see what you're doin' to her ass?" Charlie complained.
"You can see her ass when I've finished with it," Carole said shortly. "You!" she barked at Linda. "Take-that-girdle-OFF!"
Linda could feel her lips quivering. She circled her dry mouth with the tip of her tongue. She took two quick steps toward the table, turned her back on Charlie, peeled the pantie-girdle from her hips and thighs, and in the same motion flung herself at the pillow, denying Charlie even a glimpse of her bushy-haired front. As her flinching stomach came to rest upon the pillow the pantie-girdle slid down Linda's legs and collapsed around her ankles. She could feel her out-thrust rump spread widely in its tautened position, and she clenched her buttock-cheeks frantically.
The momentary silence was broken by a long whistle from Charlie. "Now there's a piece of machinery!" he said admiringly. "You think you might grow up to that some day, Carole?"
"Never mind the wise remarks," Carole said coldly. "You don't complain about mine when you're using it. Now get around to the other end of the table and HOLD her. You're going to see some real action back at this end."
Linda was horrified to hear herself emit a small whimper as Charlie rounded the table and placed his big hands on the shoulders of her blouse. The only reason she was acting so submissively was to keep this ruttish idiot as far away from her as possible. She wasn't really afraid, Linda told herself. She would bear this humiliation with as much dignity as possible and get rid of them. And tomorrow she would change the lock on the apartment door.
The big blond boy leaned forward until his stomach covered Linda's head on the pillow and his chest and head extended along her back. He was looking right down at the exposed upper slopes of her nude hind cheeks, and Linda cringed. It was still better than what Carole was looking at, she tried to comfort herself. She had never felt so exposed in her life.
"Go ahead," Charlie invited Carole. "I got her. She's not goin' anywhere."
"Wait till I get her shoes off," Carole replied. "I don't want her hanging a high heel in me when she starts kicking." The girl knelt and swiftly removed Linda's high-heeled shoes but left the pantie-girdle around her ankles. Linda could feel Carole's warm breath on the backs of her legs as the girl stooped, and goose bumps jumped up on Linda's arms. "There!" Carole said with satisfaction, and from the corner of her eye Linda could see her pick up the hairbrush again. "Now we'll put a little heat into this bare behind!"
Her arm flashed downward at the last word, and Linda closed her eyes. They flew open again as the hairbrush cracked against her bare flesh with an obscenely loud noise and a white-hot flame enveloped Linda's plumped-out right buttock. "Oooooooh!" she exclaimed breathily. She was silent as the brush returned and smarted the right buttock's twin.
Despite her self-willed determination to lie quietly and get the hideous spanking over with quickly, Linda could feel her bare seat twitching uneasily as Carole delivered successively harder spanks with the wooden hairbrush. Linda gulped and swallowed as a hot flame built up in her flesh. The pain was incredible. The innocent-looking hairbrush was quickly eroding Linda's resolve to be a stoic. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the hairbrush blazed alternately against each quivering hind cheek.
Despite herself she surged upward beneath Charlie, but his weight flattened her out. "You're gettin' to her," the blond boy encouraged Carole. "She's squirmin'."
"I can-see her-squirming," Carole panted between descents of the hairbrush. "I can see- her whole twat-and her-pussy-hair."
"Mebbe we oughta change places," Charlie suggested.
Carole didn't reply. She aimed the hairbrush deliberately, snapping its flat surface against the whiter portions of Linda's rotating, crimsoning backside. Linda's resolution broke as the hot kiss of the brush built up and multiplied in her tender hind cheeks. "C-Carole!" she pleaded. "Ohhh! C-Carole! Please! Not so h-hard!"
Carole paid no attention.
WHACK!! "Ooooooh!" Linda squealed. WHACK!! "Owwwww! CAROLE!" WHACK!! "Ohhhhhh!" she shrieked, all resistance gone as well as all thoughts of Spartan-like reserve. WHACK!! "Owww!" WHACK!! "Owwwww!" WHACK!! "OWWWWW!"
She danced in ungainly fashion from one foot to the other, trying to dislodge the clinging pantie-girdle from her ankles. She freed one leg and kicked frantically at each additional descent of the hairbrush upon her tormented, flaming behind. At one involuntary kick the pantie-girdle flew up in the air and descended across the kitchen while Carole sadistically never missed a spank upon the plunging, writhing vermillioned surfaces of Linda's naked backside.
Carole stopped the spanking suddenly and Linda's sobbing pleas were the only sound in the room for an instant. "You finished?" Charlie asked. He sounded disappointed.
"The hell I'm finished!" Carole declared. She ran a palm over Linda's spanked behind, and Linda quivered and whimpered. "She's just beginning to heat up well." She studied Linda's twitching globes for an instant. "Aunt Linda?"
She had to repeat it before it pierced the haze of Linda's pain. "Aunt Linda?"
"Y-yes?" Linda whispered.
"Where does it hurt?" Carole inquired.
"M-my bottom."
"That's not what I want to hear."
"M-my behind."
"That's not what I want to hear, either."
"M-my ass," Linda moaned, and started to cry openly.
"What kind of an ass?" Carole persisted.
It took Linda an instant to realize the girl wanted to humiliate her to the utmost. "My b-bare ass," Linda sobbed. Never in her life had she expected to feel so degraded.
"Okay," Carole announced. "Hold her, Charlie. I'm going to polish her off now."
Linda shrieked as the hairbrush descended again. Still, the loud smack of the brush and the resultant lightning-bolt impacts upon her nude flesh felt different, somehow. During the interval in which Carole had stopped spanking to ask her sadistic questions in her successful attempt to shame her aunt still more, Linda had been able to catch her breath which had been almost literally driven from her body by the humiliating, constant red-hot smackings of the hairbrush upon her tormented buttocks.
The incessantly-implemented unbearable burning sensation in Linda's bottom engendered by Carole's free-swinging assault had given way during the period of surcease to a deeply glowing inner heat that still smarted terribly but felt extraordinarily strange. Linda was amazed and startled to find a quivering tingle originating deep within herself and to find that she had no control over it. She was horrified to find her behind rising and falling on the pillow as her thighs writhed against each other.
Linda still felt each spank delivered by her niece who was now swinging the hairbrush in an upward arc aimed at blistering Linda's sitting-surfaces, but although her cries continued there was a different caliber to them even to her own ear. She still kicked and struggled, but her prickling inner itch had her rubbing her mound furiously against the dangling pillow.
"Ohhh!" Linda mewed, terrified that her uncontrollable reaction might be interpreted correctly but unable to restrain it. "Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhh!" A hot, gushing torrent burst within her quivering cunt and inundated her upper thighs. Her breath caught in her throat and she thought she would strangle from the violence of her emotion.
It took a second for her to realize that Carole had stopped spanking again. "I-think she's had enough," the girl said. There was a faint note of unease in Carole's voice. "Look at how red in the face she is. I don't want her to burst a blood vessel or something."
Charlie lifted the weight of his body from Linda's head and shoulders, but despite the release Linda sprawled limply on the pillow. With the cessation of her surprising come she felt anew the burning sting of her immolated hind parts, and fresh tears streamed down her hot cheeks. She could hear her own body-wrenching sobs.
Charlie walked around the table and took up ii position behind her. "Oh, man!" he exclaimed immediately. "Like you really scorched the beef, Carole."
"I'm satisfied," Carole said almost curtly. "Let's get out of here."
Linda heard them walk toward the front hall. "You know somethin'?" Charlie said in a thoughtful voice as the front door opened. "There was a minute there I thought she was comin'. You don't suppose-?"
"With an ass like a hot stove-lid?" Carole remarked. "She was just trying to get away from the hairbrush."
"I ought to go take a look at that pillow she's on," Charlie said.
Linda flinched as though her sore behind had been struck again.
"You come out of here right now," Carole ordered. "You've seen enough for one day. Even if the pillow was wet it wouldn't mean anything except she'd pee'd herself a little. It's happened to me when I got a real blistering. Come on, I tell you."
Charlie made no reply.
In another instant Linda heard her apartment door close.
She heaved a long, quivering sigh that shook her to her clenched toes, then buried her face in the pillow in a renewed freshet of tears.
Chapter Iii
Linda never knew how long she remained prostrate upon the pillowed kitchen table after the departure of Carole and Charlie. The whirling tumult of her frenzied thoughts hammered at her dazed brain: surely a girl had never been so unspeakably humiliated and abased. She felt mortified beyond words.
She stirred herself to movement when despite the nagging burning-smart in her poor bottom her thighs felt chilled. Linda passed a hand behind her cautiously and placed it upon a hindcheek. She moaned piteously when she felt the hot, roughened, pebbled surface which had replaced her usually silky-smooth buttock-skin.
Linda raised her head with an effort and brought both hands forward to brace herself preparatory to rising. She pushed herself upward and gave a soft little howl as the movement jerked muscles beneath the surface of her spanked rump. She persisted, however, until most of her weight rested upon her legs whose trembling threatened to refuse to support her. Linda clutched the end of the table and held on, breathing deeply.
Directly below her eyes was that portion of the pillow upon which her stomach had been resting. Linda's gaze widened as she saw-the unmistakably wide damp spot upon the pillow. There was no longer any doubt about it; incredibly, in the midst of that dreadful spanking she had somehow come more copiously even than when induced by the artful tongue and mouth of Helen Dickinson. Linda averted her eyes quickly in acutely embarrassed distress.
She tested her legs gingerly and found that they would support her weight. She wobbled into the bedroom, clutching at any support. She opened the closet door, disclosing the pier-glass, then turned on the light. Immediately she turned around and looked over her shoulder to see her spanked behind.
She moaned aloud in a muted burst of panic as she saw the rose-pink, scarified-looking hind cushions. She put both hands behind her and gently laved the hot-looking surfaces with her palms. She had to admit that the flaming burn of the immediately-after-hairbrush-descent had already departed in favor of a lower-keyed smarting sensitivity which somehow seemed to have spread well beneath the surface.
Linda bestirred herself again and went into the bathroom. She squatted above the toilet, unable to force herself to bring her sore behind into contact with the wooden seat, and directed a torrential stream into the bowl. Her pee seemed to go on and on and on. She raised herself painfully and bent over the tub and turned on the hot water, the movement forcing another gasping yowl from her lips as fresh muscles pulled under her tautly stretched spanking-area.
She mopped at her teary face with a towel and shuffled tiredly into the living room en route to the door to put on the chain latch. She paused in mid-stride; the devilish Carole had left the recently used hairbrush centered upon the living room table.
Drawn despite herself, Linda picked it up gingerly. It was unbelievable that such an innocent-looking object could create such furnace-heat that it turned a girl into a mindless animal. Linda stroked its smooth-backed surface timidly; in her mind's eye she visioned its smarting descent upon her own upturned nudity, and she shivered.
Impulsively she thrust it under her nose and sniffed at it, curious if any of her own effluvia clung to the hard wood. Then ashamed of the thought, even, she thrust the hairbrush away from her and continued on to lock the bathroom, she eased herself gently into the steaming water, whimpering when her buttocks touched down despite the towel she had placed to cushion herself.
Immersed to her breasts, she relaxed with a long, tremulous sigh. The hot water was wonderfully soothing; its heat seemed somehow to draw off the heat in her flesh. She stared unseeingly at the white bathroom wall while the events of the past hour ran through her mind like the re-run of a recently seen movie. She cringed internally at the spectacle she knew she must have presented to mockingly searching eyes.
She stayed in the tub until the hot water turned cool, then climbed out, her movements much less inhibited. There was no full-length mirror in the bathroom for her to see herself as she patted herself dry. She washed her face at the sink, scrubbing at her reddened eyes. Then she returned to the bedroom and immediately presented her nude backside to the pier-glass again.
She was surprised to see how much the scarlet globes had faded. Most of the spanked portion was now reduced to a light coral-pink. Linda pressed her fingertips to the surface lightly and found them only slightly tender to the touch. She was still aware of heat in her behind, but it now seemed to be interior heat. She still felt like dancing no fandango, however.
She went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, looked in irresolutely, then closed it again. She didn't feel like eating. And she certainly didn't feel like going out. The kitchen table caught her eye. The pillow, mute witness to her awful degradation, still rested upon its surface. Linda picked it up and without thinking passed it under her nose as she had the hairbrush. She thrust it hurriedly away from her as the unmistakable odor of her own spend was wafted to her nose. Her face turned scarlet. "What can you be thinking of?" she murmured to herself as she returned to the bedroom.
She changed the pillowcase and turned down the bed. Without bothering with a nightgown, she slipped nude under the top sheet and stretched out on her right side. With her left hand she reached behind her to stroke soothingly the uppermost hind cheek which no longer felt pebble-grained but seemed to be fast returning to its pristine condition.
Evidently a girl's behind is a much tougher object than it looks, Linda thought, still caressing herself gently.
Now if she could just rest for an hour she might feel almost up to par.
Cradling her left breast in her right palm, she closed her eyes.
And slept.
Morning sunlight was streaming in the window when Linda woke. She stared at it in disbelief. She had slept the whole night through! Slept like a baby! Memory of the previous afternoon's events rushed over her like a flood; she blushed furiously as she passed a hand behind herself and tentatively explored her bare bottom.
She couldn't believe it when she felt no pain. She swung herself from the bed and padded to the pier-glass. Bright sunlight illuminated her reflected hind cheeks with such crystal clarity that individual little hairs showed on the sleek surfaces which appeared as naturally alabaster-white as before the spanking. Only by the closest scrutiny was Linda able to observe the merest trace of shadowy subcutaneous marks where the hairbrush if wielded any harder might have created bruises.
Linda bent down exploratively and touched her toes. There was a pulling sensation in her backside, but no pain. She went into the bathroom and sat down on the seat gingerly. Again, there was sensitivity, but no pain. She couldn't get over it. Linda was sure she had received a much harder than average spanking, yet visible and tangible aftermaths appeared to be negligible. Truly, a girl's bottom was a resilient article.
She went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and as she had the previous evening, closed it again. She felt ravenous, but she didn't feel like fussing with breakfast. She'd dress and walk to the restaurant on the corner and have scrambled eggs. Or perhaps French toast.
Linda returned to the bedroom and dressed. Her only concession to the previous day was in not putting on her panty-girdle. Instead, she encased her plump hips in lace-edged pink panties, surveying the result in the mirror. Her bottom certainly wasn't swollen, but her hip area felt larger-than-life somehow. Probably just because I can't get out of my mind what happened yesterday, Linda thought. She examined with approval the snugly fitting panties clasping her crotch revealingly, then finished dressing in what she called her week-end clothes since it was Saturday morning.
She picked up her handbag in the hallway and walked down the stairs. It was a beautifully clear morning, and she breathed deeply of the summery air. She felt almost lighthearted as she walked to the restaurant. Eventually she was going to have to give thought to Carole, she supposed. Should she tell Annette? Did she want to tell Annette about her humiliation? And if she did tell her it would undoubtedly lead to further complications. There might be a better way. She put it out of her mind altogether for the time being.
The scrambled eggs tasted as good as she had hoped, and Linda lingered over a second cup of coffee. The sunlight streaming through the restaurant window made her feel pleasantly drowsy despite her many hours of sleep. She roused herself finally and walked back to her apartment. She removed last night's newspaper from the box and climbed the stairs.
She unlocked the apartment door, humming to herself. Should she call Helen Dickinson and see what Helen had on the docket for the weekend? Linda couldn't understand why she felt so well. After yesterday she had expected to be sore and lame for days. She wished she could tell Helen about the sensation of the spanking without going into the shame of it. She was sure that Helen, always avid for new sensations, would get a kick out of it.
Still carrying the newspaper, she walked into the living room. Perhaps she really should call Helen. Perhaps-
She stopped in mid-stride.
Her heart fluttered in near-panic.
It was like seeing the same movie twice.
Almost.
Except that this time instead of Carole and Charlie sitting in her living room awaiting her entrance, there was Charlie and three boys she had never seen before. Her shocked gaze went from Charlie's thick-thatched blond hair and handsome face, as he lay sprawled on the couch, to the newcomers. As she looked, one boy, apparently much younger than the others, rose from his chair and sidled to a position between Linda and the hallway, effectively barring her from the telephone.
Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.
Charlie broke the pregnant silence. "Wonder-in' how we got in?" he asked genially. "Easy. When Carole gimme the key yesterday to check out who was in the buildin', I slipped around the corner an' had a duplicate made." He grinned at Linda comfortably. "You know I just had a feelin' it might come in handy sometime. Like before you had time to change the door lock."
One of the other boys snickered, and Linda tried to get a grip on herself. Don't panic, she thought. That's what they want. That's what they expect. "Wh-what do you want?" she asked. She heard the tremor in her voice and despised herself for it. The way to handle these animals was to hold her head high and admit no possibility of the purpose she felt sure was behind their visit.
"I thought we'd drop by and check on the condition of your ass," Charlie explained easily. "In case it needed any attention." He smiled, and the same boy snickered again.
Linda glared in the direction of the snicker. The boy, a nondescript scruffy-looking type, returned her look coolly. Sitting silently in another corner was a dark, good-looking boy who hadn't said a word. Linda felt panic returning. Good God, she thought wildly, is yesterday to become common knowledge around town? She'd be a laughing-stock. She might lose her job. She-
Uncannily, Charlie read her mind. "No one's gonna know a thing except us," he said soothingly. His clean-cut handsome face broke into another sunny smile. "If you're nice to us."
Linda's hands started to tremble. "N-nice?" she said tensely.
"Yeah." Charlie rose from the couch and approached Linda. It took every bit of willpower she possessed not to retreat. "I forgot you haven't met the boys," he continued. He waved a hand at the younger boy in the doorway. "That's Mousie." The boy grinned, a grin both sheepish and excited.
"An' that's Carl." Charlie pointed to the snickerer. "An' Edmondo." To Linda's surprise the good-looking dark boy rose from his chair and made her a polite little bow.
Linda's throat felt dry. "What do you really w-want?" she asked. Despite her best effort it came out as a whisper.
"I told you," Charlie said patiently in the manner of one explaining matters to a backward child. "You took a real whalin' yesterday, right? Mebbe you need your butt cold-creamed, right? To get it back in shape again. No reason at all why we can't take care of it for you."
Linda looked from the grinning Mousie to the staring Carl to the quiet Edmondo and finally back to the hulking Charlie. He was close enough to her now that his unwashed odor again filled her nostrils. "That's not really what you want," Linda said quietly.
Charlie rubbed his chin. "Well, no." he agreed. "Let's say it's part of it. I really didn't get to see as much of you yesterday as I would've liked. I really would like to cold-cream your butt. An' then-"
"Yes?" Linda asked despite herself when he paused.
"Why then I reckon we'd like to fuck you," he drawled.
She flinched as though from a blow. The pit of her stomach felt hollow. She didn't feel the panic she had felt at first sight of the group; her inspection of the other members of the quartet had induced a numbing sense of helplessness.
Charlie had been watching her reaction. "That's the girl," he said approvingly. "No hysterics, right?" His voice lowered and took on a sing-song quality. "You're pretty girl, right? Beautiful, even. Gorgeous. Ever seen what brass knucks do to a pretty girl's face?" He smiled. "Teeth splintered. Face all lumpy. For months. Mebbe permanent. Mebbe an eye gone. Or a crooked nose." His steady stare impaled Linda. She felt almost hypnotized by the light blue eyes and the sing-song voice. Charlie continued without looking around. "Show her the knucks, Carl."
Linda didn't look in that direction, but even so she half-saw, half-sensed the glint of light on metal. Her throat had dried up completely. She could feel a quivering in the backs of her knees. She tried desperately to swallow and couldn't.
Charlie smiled at her again. "But we're not gonna have any trouble, are we, sugar?" he went on in the same crooning tone. "We understand each other, right?" He waited a moment. "Right?"
Linda forced her voice past her dried-up throat. It sounded husky and unrecognizable. "I know I can't f-fight you," she got out in a voice she tried desperately to make steady. "And I don't want to be h-hurt, naturally." She wet her lips. Was this actually happening? But she had only to look at the greedy-eyed stares of the four boys. "May I-may I say something?"
Charlie swept his arm around in a large gesture that included the universe. "You got the floor, sugar," he declared grandiosely. "Speak up."
Linda searched for words. "Why me?" It burst from her throat before she realized was going to speak. She hurried on, afraid she was going to burst into tears. "I've done n-nothing to you. Why do you want to do this thing to me?"
"You drew bad cards, sugar." Charlie's tone was not unkind. He was stating a fact, Linda thought miserably. "It just worked out that you're the cute li'l rabbit in the big ol' trap. An' you wouldn't expect us to pass up a dee-licious li'l honey-nugget like you, now would you?" The big blond boy made it sound like the most reasonable thing in the world.
"There's been too goddam much talk around here." Carl declared from his corner. "How about a little action?"
"You see how it is, sugar," Charlie declared to Linda. He smiled at her. "How you want it? Hard or easy?"
Linda tried to speak past the lump in her throat. She had to swallow twice. "Ea-easy," she whispered. Her hands felt like ice.
"Now that's a smart girl," Charlie approved. "Ain't gonna be a thing happen to you ain't happened to a zillion fee-males since man took to walkin' on his hind legs. You c'mon out into the kitchen, sugar. I still got a hankerin' to cold-cream your ass."
He extended his hand and held it out in front of Linda until she reluctantly put hers into it.
His hand closed on hers, not hard, but firmly. She panicked at the feeling of strength in his easy grip. For a fleeting instant she thought of pulling away, of fleeing, but where? And then she thought of the cold shine of the brass knucks which had been returned to Carl's pocket.
Charlie drew Linda in the direction of the kitchen. "Bring a pillow from the bed, Mousie," he directed. "I told you guys I was gonna show you somethin', an' here comes the preview."
Linda stumbled along behind Charlie, her hand still locked in his. In the kitchen Mousie handed Charlie a pillow. Charlie placed it on the table in the same position as the previous day. The others crowded into the small space and stood expectantly. Charlie turned to Linda. "Unbutton it, sugar, an' hoist it up there. You're among friends."
Two big tears overflowed the corners of Linda's eyes and ran down her cheeks. She wiped at them angrily with the back of her hand. "I'm s-sorry," she said. "It's j-just that I'm-that I'm upset." Am I crazy, she wondered? What am I doing apologizing to this-this beast? But she didn't want to stir the banked fires she sensed behind his easy-going smile.
Charlie turned to Mousie again. "Look for the cold cream in her medicine cabinet." He returned his attention to Linda. "Don't sweat it, girl. What's the strain? Four stiff pricks to a healthy type like you isn't as bad as a mornin's wash. Now get it up on the table, right?"
His voice had risen slightly and Linda could see a different set to his still-smiling mouth. Would she feel any more virtuous afterward if she made them rip her out of her clothes, she thought despairingly? Seemingly of their own accord her hands went to the three snaps at the neck of her dress in back and unfastened them.
"That's the girl," Charlie said for the second time.
She barely heard him. Mousie had returned to the kitchen and silently handed Charlie a jar of cold cream. His eyes were locked on Linda. She tried to shut the whole room from her mind. Pretend you're alone, she told herself fiercely as she groped for the hem of her dress. Pretend you're alone.
Once started, she accomplished it quickly. One smooth flowing motion and her dress came off over her head and was draped over the back of a chair. Her slip followed, and Linda stepped closer to the table. She plucked the elasticized waistband of her lace-edged pink panties free and pulled the panties down her trembling legs while she dropped face down upon the pillow, scarcely daring to breathe.
Two soft whistles blended behind her. She didn't turn her head to see who the whistlers were. "Didn't I tell you?" she heard Charlie say proudly. "Ain't that a rump like a thoroughbred mare's?" He stepped up beside Linda and bent down to study the subject at close range. His voice sounded surprised when he spoke again. "Say, you really bleached out overnight, didn't you, sugar? Can't hardly see a thing. You guys should've seen this ass yesterday. Talk about a flamin' sunset, she really had one."
"May we ought to heat it up again a little," Carl suggested. "She looks chilly."
"Now I don't see no call for that," Charlie declared. "Long as she goes along with the action." Linda heard the slight whir as he unscrewed the top of the cold cream jar. "I don't really know why I want to do this, but I got a hankerin'."
Linda flinched as his cold-creamed palm cupped her right bare buttock. Charlie's big hand glided over the expanse of that side of her bottom, working the cold cream into the resilient flesh. He applied a fresh palmful to the other buttock and deliberately smoothed it into the skin. Linda could feel her buttocks swaying from side to side from the movements of Charlie's palm.
Charlie placed a dab of cold cream at the top of Linda's deep buttock-crease, then began to work it down into her crevice. She found herself holding her breath at the stimulation aroused by Charlie's fingers working the cold cream from the little hollow at the base of her spine down past her tightly clenched anus to her long split. "It ain't a bad feelin', guys," Charlie announced, stepping back. "Next?"
Linda turned her head slightly where it rested on her crossed arms. She was in time to see Mousie reach eagerly for the jar. The youngest boy began at once to re-cream Linda's pliant hind cheeks. He was clumsier than Charlie, and he used too much cold cream, but he worked it into her warm flesh. "Oh, man!" Mousie murmured. His voice was the only sound in the kitchen.
Linda tried to relax and ignore what was taking place in her most intimate body parts. Mousie dabbed more cold cream into her buttock-crack, then hurt her when his inexpert but eager fingers tried to work it into her crease. Linda's thighs quivered slightly, but she made no sound as the fingers jabbed at her.
"You guys'll have her ass slippery 'n a greased pig's," Carl declared. "Won't nobody be able to get a prick-hold if you keep it up."
"He's got a point," Charlie agreed. "Finish up, Mousie."
"Oh, Jesus!" The younger boy's voice was almost a whimper. "I never felt nothin' like this!" He moved away from Linda with obvious reluctance. Linda could see a bunched swelling at the front of his crotch, and she realized with a sense of shock exactly what she was in for in the next few moments.
Charlie tapped her upon a sleek buttock. "Into the bedroom, sugar. Drop your socks an' grab a cock." He laughed heartily at his own wit.
Like an automaton Linda rose from the pillow and followed the group into the bedroom. "She ought to take her bra off," Mousie said critically. "Let's see those titties."
Linda didn't even wait for Charlie's instructions. She unhooked the bra, shook it free from her breasts, and passed the bra straps down over her arms. "Jesus!" Carl exclaimed, eyeing the jutting mounds whose dark nipples stiffened in reaction to the chillier air of the bedroom after their warm confinement. "Ain't that a pair of boobs?"
He moved in beside her and took one in his hand. He squeezed too hard, and Linda's lips thinned at the sudden pain, but again she made no complaint. At her other side Mousie played almost reverently with the twin massive orb.
"Okay, onto the bed, sugar," Charlie directed.
Linda sat down on the edge of the bed with a renewed sinking feeling. She had known the situation really wasn't a raincloud that would blow away, but faced with the stark reality ...
"Who goes first?" Carl demanded. "Do we draw lots?"
"We could, but I got a better idea," Charlie answered. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Linda saw him wink broadly, a wink that included Carl and the silent Edmondo. "Mousie here's been tellin' us what a hell of a cocksman he is, so I vote we let him go first an' show us some-thin'."
Mousie looked startled. Edmondo smiled, and even Carl grinned grudgingly. "I'm perf-perfectly willin' to go-to go after you guys!" Mousie stuttered.
Charlie placed a hand on Linda's bare shoulder. "Down on your back an' show him the platform, sugar," he instructed. Sensing the steely strength in the hand, Linda went down on her kick obediently and opened and widened her thighs. "There you are, Mousie," Charlie continued with another wink at the others. "How's that for a launchin' pad?"
"Get your pants off, for Christ's sake," Carl said as the bug-eyed youngster stared at Linda's disclosure. Mousie gulped and tumbled with his belt. He paused to kick off his shoes, then pushed down his pants. His shorts followed, and a modest-sized, red-eyed prick danced stiffly beneath his slender belly.
Linda was sure it was all happening to someone else as Mousie crawled onto the bed and moved in between her parted knees. She felt curiously detached. Mousie's hard breathing even evoked a flash of sympathy from her. She wondered if the boy was even sixteen. She could see the trembling tip of his young shaft as he maneuvered onto her belly. He seemed taut as a fiddle string. Plainly he didn't know what to do with his hands.
Behind Mousie's back Charlie winked again. "Look at that pussy hair, Mousie," he drawled. "Wouldn't you like to stuff a mattress with it?"
Mousie made no reply. The slender rigidity of his throbbing prick rested on Linda's lower belly. The boy started to lower himself onto Linda's soft breasts, and as he did so Charlie suddenly seized a boyish bare buttock in his hand and squeezed. Mousie screamed hoarsely and rose up. He grabbed for his prick but couldn't seize it in time. Thick jets cascaded from its tip and sprayed Linda's belly, breasts, and even up under her throat.
Mousie slithered off. Linda and bounded from the bed. "Goddam sonofabitch!" he screamed, stamping his foot on the floor. "I never even got it INTO her!"
Charlie was shaking with helpless laughter. The swarthy-skinned Edmondo was smiling broadly. Carl stood there shaking his head, looking disgusted. "You'll be all right again time the rest of us are through," Charlie consoled the almost-weeping Mousie when he could stop laughing. "Now go get a wet towel an' clean up that mess you made."
Mousie went into the bathroom and returned with a facecloth. He wiped off his sticky deposit from Linda's body while she stared up at him. His scream had frightened her since she hadn't known the cause. "Oh, Jesus, I wanted to fuck you!" Mousie assured her earnestly. "I never knew a girl could feel so soft an' warm an'-an' cuddly."
"Next," Charlie said. He looked at Carl. "You want to make it?"
"Don't mind if I do," Carl agreed. He scowled down at Linda. "An' don't you lay there like a piece of dead meat or you'll have my handprints all over your ass." Deliberately he unbelted and unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them. His undershorts were dirty looking, and Linda looked away. Carl took Mousie's previous place between Linda's legs without removing his shorts and pulled a flange-headed stout prick out into the light.
"Just like you to go rammin' a dry hole," Charlie said in disgust. He ran his big hand down over Linda's mossy curls and searched out with a finger her cunt hole. He frigged her steadily for a moment while Carl squatted on his heels in front of Linda without saying anything. Charlie pulled out his finger with a sucking sound and held it up to display the liquid shining on it. "There, that's a little better," he stated. "All aboard what's goin' aboard."
Carl crowded up against Linda, jabbing at her cunt with his stiff prick. She winced at his inaccuracy and tried to raise her hips higher to assist his aim. "Take it-slower!" she said from between her teeth.
"Don't you try to tell me what to do, you bitch!" Carl snarled at her. He finally lodged the tip of his prick in Linda's hole and began to shove. Linda gasped at the forced entry into her tight channel as Carl's gristle surged up inside her in a series of plunging, battering-ram tidal waves. "Goddam, she's really-tight!" Carl grunted, still intent upon his efforts to pierce Linda more thoroughly.
For some reason Linda felt more afraid of Carl than any of the others.
Suddenly mindful of his warning about lack of activity, she lifted her bottom and thrust upward vigorously. The combined movement shoved Carl into Linda to the hilt. Linda bucked it up into him again.
Carl ceased his movements and a peculiar expression appeared on his usually cynical-looking face.
Chapter Iv
Once again Linda heaved her buttocks upward as Carl rested motionless upon her but lodged deeply within her.
"Hold it!" Carl yelled suddenly. "Hold- IT!" His admonition trailed off in a deep groan as he suddenly began to plunge furiously upon Linda as his dirty-shorted behind shivered and shook. After a moment's quiescence, Carl raised himself from her with his face distorted with fury. "You bitch, you wanted to spoil it for me! You made me come before I was ready!"
He doubled up his fist and aimed a punch at Linda's unprotected belly. Charlie's big hand grabbed his arm. "Goddammit, she did exactly as you told her," Charlie growled. "Get the hell off her if you've shot your load."
Linda breathed more easily as Carl crawled away from her, but she was apprehensive at the look of sheer malevolence he shot at her.
Charlie already had his pants off, and as Linda looked toward him he stripped off his shorts. Stomach, thighs, and legs were thickly thatched with blond hair. Charlie's prong, already at half-mast, was substantial but hardly in accord with the rest of his physique. "You get me now, sugar," he told Linda cheerfully, climbing onto the bed. "01' Edmondo is the dessert course for you broads. He's not only got a prick, he knows what to do with it. Me, when I smell a juicy cunt I ain't got no finesse." He lowered his head till his long blond hair tickled Linda's stomach and sniffed strongly between her legs. "An' sugar, yours is juicy."
His prick had stiffened as he talked. Once again she was conscious of the strong man-smell as he hovered over her, indicating infrequent bathing, but this time Linda couldn't seem to bring herself to mind. Her eyes were focused on the powerful muscles in his hairy thighs and upon his pole now standing at attention.
"They say never knock the product," Charlie resumed with the same lighthearted air as he searched with the tip of his prick for Linda's vaginal orifice, "but I got to admit I'm just a plow-jockey in this league." Inexplicably Linda found her own hand extended down between her legs. She took Charlie's stout peg in her hand and inserted its knob in her swimming twat. "Say, now, that's right nice of you," Charlie exclaimed.
In a series of twisting shoves he worked his staff all the way into Linda, and she found out at once what he meant when he called himself a plow-jockey. She heard her own inelegant grunts as Charlie's hard belly slapped fiercely against her own soft one while his hard prick ravaged her cunt-cranny. Charlie's lean hips slammed away at Linda's upthrust bulging pussy whose strained lips were now ruby-red from friction. A slow, surging tide of warmth swept over Linda as she tried to match her upward movements to Charlie's quick jabs into her. She was feeling-she was feeling almost-
A familiar deep tickle curled up her toes. Her thighs came up and grabbed at Charlie's hardworking waist. Linda's head went back and her eyes closed as Charlie banged into her straining cunt. She could feel-she could almost feel-
But then Charlie snorted loudly through his nose, buried his face in the junction of her soft neck and shoulder, and roared mightily in her ear as he jerked and twisted and gyrated and corkscrewed as he shot his wad into her molten interior. For an instant after the hard body's movements stilled Linda tried hard to prolong her own previously rising sensation, but she had lost the edge, and her taut thighs slackened.
Charlie rose from her belly, his dripping prick bedewing her legs with spend. "You didn't come?" he asked. Linda shook her head mutely, afraid to lie to this powerful boy. "Don't sweat it, sugar," he assured her, backing away from between her legs. "You'll come with Edmondo. He's the class in this outfit in the fucking brigade."
Linda turned her head away petulantly. She felt cheated. She had been on the verge of coming, and then that strong-muscled brute hadn't been able to wait for her. It wasn't fair.
"If you please, ma'am," a voice said.
Linda turned her head. Edmondo was standing beside the bed. Unlike the others, he had stripped completely. Except for a gold chain around his neck, his only apparel was a leather holster strapped to his left forearm from which protruded the bone handles of what Linda knew instinctively were knives. The skin was swarthy, the body not overly-muscled but well-made.
When Linda looked at Edmondo's prick, her eyes widened. Both long and thick, it jutted powerfully from above hairy, heavy-looking balls. Its deep-purple head glistened at the tip from an already visible drop of moisture. "You'll hurt me with that thing!" Linda exclaimed in alarm.
Edmondo smiled. "You are well prepared," he said.
He reached over to widen again the thighs Linda had instinctively drawn together. Then he moved in between them and introduced the knobby head to Linda's orifice. "Take it easy," she begged, "or you'll split me!" She stared fearfully down the valley of her breasts at Edmondo's big prick jockeying for position below.
She gasped when he inserted the head, grunted when he applied pressure. Her thighs flailed aimlessly as Edmondo's thick prong dilated her cunt-channel. "Oooooooh!" Linda moaned softly as Edmondo's surging hips advanced his prick still more deeply into her. "You're-stuffing-me!"
The swarthy boy joggled his gristle from side to side in her tight chute, then advanced again. Linda sighed deeply with a shrill whistling sound as the advancing prick seemed to lodge solidly, then advance again by virtue of a series of short lunges. Never in college had she felt so plugged! A floodtide of new sensations tugged at her visceral nerve-ends, and Linda's soft mouth pursed into a little round O of surprise as the hard-knobbed prong still further expanded her sheath-walls.
Edmondo's plunging movements ceased. Linda, who had been staring blindly at the ceiling, raised her head to look down at him again between her breasts. Half-crouched above her, he was looking right into her eyes. "It is in," he said softly. "We let it soak a minute."
Linda couldn't believe that all of the wide-shafted erection she had seen projecting from above the boy's hairy balls was now lodged within her. Even Helen Dickinson's dildo was nothing like it! No wonder she felt as if she would burst down there! The sensation of hard gristle distending her cunt-walls seemed to persist right up into her stomach!
Edmondo moved slightly, and Linda almost yelped at the quick surge of tickling, prickling bursts of feeling that seemed centered within her pussy. Her legs trembled and a film glazed her eyes, so much so that she had difficulty seeing the expression on Edmondo's face. She determined that the swarthy-skinned boy was smiling at her once more. "You are ready," he said softly.
He lowered his dark head until his lips were at Linda's left breast. Linda was shocked to hear her own breathless squeal as her nipple was lipped into Edmondo's mouth and played with lightly. She didn't want these-these young animals to think she was enjoying the manhandling! All she wanted was to get them out of the apartment with no physical injury to herself.
Hut her traitorous nipple stiffened in Edmondo's warm mouth. The boy's quick tongue circled it and plunged at it, and Linda compressed her lips to restrain the excited little cries she felt welling up at the back of her throat. Then Edmondo began to move his hips slowly, up and down, and a starburst of exquisitely sensitive tactile tingles exploded from within her prick-filled juicy cunt.
"Ohhh!" Linda exclaimed involuntarily as Edmondo began to ride her, still in that same restrained rhythm. Each time his big whang re-bored her channel Linda thought her bulging eyes would fall out. "Ohhh! Ohhhh! Oooooh! Ahhhh!" she kept murmuring as her shafting continued. She could see the curious faces of Mousie and Carl standing at the foot of the bed, watching, and a deep feeling of shame overwhelmed her at the spectacle she knew she must present with her legs elevated and her whole bottom exposed as Edmondo's thick prong glided in and out of her moist cavern.
"Dear.... God!" she stammered as the enormity of her shame pressed in upon her, but the steadily-plunging prick in her cunt was driving her out of her mind. She bit her lips in anguish, but to no avail. "Ahhhhhh!" she said clearly as a glowing coal ignited in her depths. "Ohhhh! Oooooh! Ohhhh! Oh, my! Oh, myyyyy!"
Edmondo switched his mouth to Linda's other nipple, and it seemed as though the new sensation was all Linda needed to send her over the dam. Her legs writhed frenziedly as her hips swiveled upward frantically to meet Edmondo's steady assaults upon her boiling quim. "OHHHH! OHHHHHHH! OHHHHHHH! I'm -coming!" The shrill cries burst from her. "I'M-COMMMMMMMING!"
Her wide hips jerked and heaved as the quicksilver-fiery spend wrenched her and inundated Edmondo's probing prick. Panting, Linda sank back limply and pressed her hands to her face. It felt hot to her touch, and she realized anew the undignified-the totally undignified-appearance she must have presented at the climactic moment when no lady ever desired spectators. Linda felt hot, and dirty, and deeply disgraced.
She waited for Edmondo to withdraw from her, then realized his prick was still deeply within her, hard and strong. The swarthy-skinned boy hadn't even come off, she marvelled. And his slow, steady jogging movements in and out of Linda were once more setting up teasing tremors in her interior. She debated pleading with him to stop, then decided it was useless until he had expended his own gism upon her.
Then she had a further surprise. Edmondo raised himself slightly and took one of her thighs in each hand. Still stuffed to the hilt inside her cunt, he doubled her thighs back upon her breasts after widening them. Then he began another slow up-and-down assault upon Linda's sticky quiver, withdrawing almost to the tip of his knobby prick each time before again ramming it home.
The new position still further exposed Linda to the ignominy of the staring eyes, and for an instant that was all that was on her mind. The tremors centered in her prick-filled cunt-chute were spreading rapidly to her belly and her hard-nippled breasts. "P-please!" she got out in a choked voice. "Please! You're-I'm-oooh!- I'm-ohh, God!-I'm DOOOOING it-again!"
Her plump thighs pumped furiously against Edmondo's restraining hands and weight as her creamy hips went berserk and savagely twisted upward to engulf every last quarter-inch of the thick rod embedded in her steamingly lubricated entrails. Her broad-cheeked behind jerked up and down as her internal combustion engine once more sent her into a slavering, whining, quaking, dervish-like come.
Exhausted, Linda sank back upon the bed. Tears filled her eyes as she felt humiliated beyond measure by her body's betrayal of all that she had been taught to believe was ladylike. How could it have happened to her? She had been confident she could emerge almost untouched except in the most physical sense of the word from this contact forced upon her. Instead, here she was cooperating to a disgusting degree.
She became aware that Edmondo was still working upon her belly. Indifferently she submitted to his hard-plunging assault. Nothing more could happen to her now. Edmondo had lowered her legs again and was now fucking mightily against the less-elevated fulcrum of her crotch. She could hear his heavy balls slapping against the lower slopes of her own bare behind, and the obscene noise humbled her all over again.
Then the swarthy-skinned boy buried his nose against Linda's throat and seized her buttocks in both hands. She almost cried out as he pulled her up tightly against him on each pounding downstroke. Unbelievingly she felt the first tingling renewal of another gathering of her sexual forces deep within her crammed gully. "Oh, noooo!" she gasped.
But Edmondo's piston-plunging regularity changed to a wild, diffused bucking and lunging. Linda felt the hot jets of his ejaculated sperm in her cunt before she actually realized the boy was coming. Edmondo's shoulders shuddered in the aftermath as Linda tried to prolong for herself her own sensation. It trembled on tiptoe in her interior for an instant, then blanched, withered, and died.
Edmondo raised himself and pulled out of Linda with a squishy sucking sound. "Now that's what I call a fuck!" a voice said almost in Linda's ear. Startled, she turned her head. Unseen by her, Charlie had pulled up a chair and was sitting with his elbows on the bed almost within nose-length of Linda's recent encounter. The blond boy stood up and separated Linda's thighs which she had instinctively snapped together at sight of him, then bent down to examine closely her juicily oozing scarlet-lipped slit.
Linda burst into tears.
Charlie raised his head from his intimate inspection to look at her. "What's the fuss?" he inquired. "You ain't hurtin', are you?"
"N-no, but I feel s-so as-ashamed!" she sobbed.
"Hell with that, sugar. You just done what comes natural. And a good job of it, too." He patted her thigh. "You're really somethin'. With a piece of beef like that between your legs you're cheatin' the world by not puttin' out."
Tears streamed down Linda's face. Between mingled excitement and humiliation she couldn't seem to check them. All eyes in the room were still focused upon her semen-juicy twat. Linda reached down and covered it with one hand, but Charlie immediately pulled her hand away.
Then Mousie was standing beside Charlie tugging at the blond boy's arm. "Look, I'm ready!" Mousie said excitedly. "It's my turn now! I didn't get a turn before!" Under his shirt Linda could see the boy's slender staff again in erection. "I want to fuck her, too!"
Charlie started to say something, then apparently changed his mind. "All right," he said finally. "But wait till she shrinks a little. After Edmondo's prick reamed her, if you crawl in there now you'll think someone's waxed the ballroom floor on you for fair."
"I don't care," Mousie insisted stubbornly.
"Okay," Charlie surrendered. "But make it fast. We got to get out of here."
Mousie climbed onto the bed eagerly. Linda barely suppressed a groan. Her cunt-lips felt tender beyond belief after Edmondo's hard-bore scouring of her delicate interior, and now she was going to be fucked again. Helplessly she watched the slight Mousie scramble between her parted legs and introduce the tip of his slender peg to her scarlet-lipped twat, still twitching slightly from the gnawing feeling which was the aftermath of Edmondo's coming and leaving her hanging.
The boy turned to look suspiciously over his shoulder. "Don't none of you wise guys spoil it for me this time," he warned. "I ain't never seen nothin' this good an' I really want a piece of it."
"Stop flappin' your mouth an' shove it in there," Charlie said impatiently.
Linda shifted position slightly to assist Mousie's amateurish probing of her. All she wanted now was to get it over with. Finally she reached down and took hold of Mousie's slender but surprisingly hard prick and put it into herself for him. What was the sense of being delicate about it now, she thought bitterly. None of her sensibilities had been spared this day.
"Ahhhh, that's great!" Mousie sighed as their bellies blended. He had gone into her like a fireman going down a greased pole, but Linda could feel his sturdy young root in her far more than she expected. Unexpectedly her sheath-walls contracted sharply upon the newest intruder in her grotto. "What the hell was that?" Mousie gasped, startled.
"What was what?" Charlie asked curiously.
"Her cunt is grabbin' at my prick!"
Charlie laughed. "Ream it out," he advised. "Teach it a lesson. Pour on the coal, Mousie."
The boy began an inexpert wriggling of his hips. Linda re-settled herself under him to receive him most comfortably. Actually the feel of Mousie's spirited staff inside her was not unpleasant to Linda. Far less gross than Edmondo's which had left her with a breathlessly stuffed feeling, Mousie's increasing penetration of her as he learned to manage his plunging action more deftly seemed able to touch her upon an inner quick.
Mousie's greasy hair was pillowed on Linda's breasts and his popping eyes were glazed with delight. He rose and fell upon Linda's belly-bowl with ever-increasing-dexterity as his rigidity prodded her depths. The boy's hands crept down her sides and slid beneath Linda's warm buttocks in a move obviously copied from Edmondo.
Linda was amazed to feel a quick, deep stirring within her. This little boy surely couldn't be-but in another instant she knew that he was.
Edmondo had brought her to the verge for a third time but had left her dangling. Now Mousie's rapid-fire prick-action had breathed new fire into Linda's cunt-sensations. She thought despairingly that she had no control over this part of her anatomy.
"Ohh!" she whispered as a flood of sexual emotion curled her toes. "Oooh!" Her voice rose despite herself. "Ohhhh! It's-oooooh!-it's start-ohhhh!-it's starting-oooh!-again!"
"Is she putting it on?" Linda could hear Carl's voice asking in the bedroom. No one replied. Her eyes were closed, but she could sense the three heads bent down close to the bed to observe every sexual minutiae. She didn't care. She simply didn't care. The trembling tingle in the depths of her chasm precluded all other thought.
Linda's legs shot up in the air and her thighs ground against Mousie's slim middle. The boy lunged into her with furious energy, his harsh breathing titillating one plump breast as his mouth rested against it. A paroxysm wracked Linda; her mindless upthrust of her hips as her lava boiled over almost lifted Mousie completely from his knees. "Aieeeeeeee!" she shrieked, flinging her arms about Mousie and clasping him to her. "Ohhhhh! Ohhhhh! Ahhhhhh! OHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhh!"
Still immersed in her own reaction, Linda realized belatedly that Mousie was coming, too. The boy's skinny behind shuddered and shook as his boring jets of sperm flooded her. Coming back to the world of reality, Linda self-consciously removed her arms from around Mousie as the boy's orgasm ran its prolonged course.
Slack-kneed, Linda lay quietly as Mousie pulled out of her. The boy danced around the bedroom, his diminished prick bouncing up and down against his belly. "I made her come!" he crowed exuberantly. "I made her come!"
Charlie was laughing openly, Edmondo was smiling. Only the scruffy-looking Carl looked sour. "So you made her come," he said disagreeably. "Big deal, a slut like that."
"Shut your damn mouth," Edmondo said unexpectedly. It was the first word Linda had heard him say that hadn't been addressed directly to her in bed.
"Yeah," Charlie agreed. "She was a good little soldier. Don't knock the product, Carl." He looked down at Linda still sprawled on her back. "How about it, sugar? Can you make it up on your feet?"
"I-I think so," she replied faintly. She sat up, and the room whirled dizzily for an instant before settling down. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and put her feet on the door. Her legs were trembling, but she was able to stand up. Immediately she felt self-conscious again; she felt twice as nude as when she had been on the bed.
Charlie confronted her almost nose-to-nose. "We got to run, sugar," he said. "For now." He grinned at her, the same lazy, superior-looking grin with which she had become familiar and which seemed to go with his blond good looks. He continued speaking before she could question him about the "now."
"A couple of things before we leave." He put two fingers under Linda's chin and tilted her head up until they were looking directly into each other's eyes. "No calling the police, right? We wouldn't like it. There's too big a loser's tag goes with a deal like this."
"I don't want any more notice taken of this than you do," Linda said quietly.
"You damn well better mean it!" Carl snapped.
"She means it," Charlie said. "She made it easy on herself today, didn't she? An' she knows that if we get mad we'll grab her an' pull her into an alley for some real gang-bangin' some night."
Linda's throat felt parched. "I won't-"
"And some brass knucks exercise," Carl interrupted. He thrust a hand into a pocket and flourished the cruel-looking metal at her, fitting it over his hand. Linda's hand went apprehensively to her mouth.
"She gets the picture," Charlie said. "She's a levelheaded broad." He addressed Linda directly again. "No. Two, sweetie. Don't change the lock on your door."
For an instant Linda failed to comprehend. "Don't change-"
"Because we'll be back."
A surge of genuine anger enveloped Linda. "I'm not a-a plaything!" she cried. "I'm a p-per-son! It's indecent of you to think that I'll willingly s-submit to this-this-" Her voice died away as Charlie shook his head.
"You're just too good a dish to pass up, sugar," the blond boy grinned at her. "Sorry about that."
"But this is-is impossible! It's-" Panic raced through Linda. "You can't come back here! People will talk! They may talk about how long you've stayed here now! I'll lose my job! You're-you're hurting me!" The words burst from her in a torrent.
"If anyone says anything you just tell 'em you called us up here to move some furniture for you," Charlie said patiently. He considered the rest of the group frowningly. "She's got a point, though, when she says we can't keep on counting on comin' here to her place. No sense spoilin' a good thing."
"We could take her to the cabin," Edmondo said in his quiet voice.
"Yeah. Mebbe. We'll think about it."
"But I did what you wanted!" Linda said desperately. "Can't you l-leave me alone n-now?"
She started to cry.
"Shut it off, sugar." The same authoritative note was back in Charlie's voice Linda had heard when she first found the boys in her apartment. "We like you better when you're comin' than when you're cryin'. You're a good fuck, an' a couple more times around ain't gonna hurt you or us. You just do what we say an' you'll come up smellin' like a rose. All right, gang, let's move it out've here."
"I want another feel of her before we go," Carl spoke up. "An' I claim firsts when we have her again. I didn't get nothin' like what you guys got this time."
"I could use a feel myself," Charlie said. "It seems a long time already since I had a prick-hold on her."
They crowded around Linda. Carl darted a hand into her wet crotch. It hurt her and she flinched. "Spread your legs, you cunt!" Carl said cruelly. Linda blushed scarlet, but obediently lifted a leg as Carl pawed at her greasy pussy.
Charlie fondled a nude hind cheek, compressing it and releasing it. Mousie played with a breast, tickling its nipple. Even the more sophisticated Edmondo lightly spanked Linda's other buttock in a steady tattoo that put a light smart into it.
The boys' hands raced over Linda. Her breasts; her belly; her twat; the deep crevice between her heavy hind cheeks; all were thoroughly re-explored. Linda's breathing almost stopped. She found this rough handling extraordinarily shaming, far more than what she had felt on her back in the bed. When they showed signs of keeping it up, she burst into tears again.
"Oh, shit!" Carl exclaimed in disgust. "C'mon, guys. The waterworks just busted loose again."
"Yeah, we gotta go," Charlie agreed. "Damn, ain't she a handful of ass, though?"
"Cunt, too," Carl said with a lewd chuckle. "I'd like-"
"Hey!" It was Mousie's voice, almost a whisper. "You guys hear anything?" He pointed at the apartment door.
It was Edmondo who responded first. Before Linda's amazed eyes a knife appeared to grow in his right hand. She never saw him draw it from his sleeve holster. The dark boy took three quick steps to the door and pulled it open. Janitor Walter Cummings, crouched in the hallway at the keyhole, sagged across the threshold and landed inside the hallway on his hands and knees.
Charlie recovered first. "Well, will you look at the rube!" he sneered. He stepped forward and clouted the janitor alongside the head, knocking him onto his side. Edmondo closed and re-locked the door. From his position on the floor, the janitor stared up stupidly, and Linda flung her left arm across her breasts and covered her mound with her right palm as her nudity was forcibly re-impressed upon her. This was dreadful! Simply awful!
"What the hell were you doin' out there?" Carl snarled at the janitor.
"I was- I was wipin' down the walls," Cummings whined.
"He's the janitor," Linda interposed.
"He's a goddam peepin' tom," Charlie snorted. He grinned at Linda. "I don't think you've had as much privacy around here as you thought, sugar."
"Like just about none," Mousie agreed.
Linda stared. "Oh, no," she said faintly. She could feel herself turning scarlet from her breasts upward.
"Wipin' down the walls," Carl mimicked. "Look at the front of his pants, guys!"
Linda almost moaned aloud as she saw the thick bulge at the front of Cummings' work pants. This was terrible! She had always considered the man a harmless, cheerful half-idiot. And now he had seen... how much had he actually seen?
Other minds had been doing some similar wondering. "Lissen," Mousie said uneasily, "if he watched what we did to her, an' he talks-"
"He will not talk," Edmondo said quietly but with a biting edge to his voice. He walked to the crouching Cummings and placed the point of his knife against the janitor's neck. Cummings tried to shrink away, but the knife pursued him. The big man started to whimper. "Take out your prick," Edmondo ordered.
Cummings peered up at him, eyes glazed.
"Out!" Edmondo repeated, and pressed home the knife-point lightly.
The janitor fumbled at his work pants and laboriously pulled out his swollen distention. "Listen, I didn't mean no-" he started to plead.
"Shut up!" Charlie harked.
Carl whistled at sight of the janitor's exposed erection. The man's penis was second to Edmondo's monstrous prong very, very slightly. Linda looked, averted her gaze, then looked again. She couldn't get over the thought that the seemingly harmless Walter whom she was always, encountering in the apartment building might have been a steady customer at her keyhole.
The janitor crouched miserably with his erection in his hand. He looked at Linda's nakedness, and his prick stiffened perceptibly. He ducked his head and looked at what he had in his hand as though he wished it would go away. Charlie laughed, then sobered. "How we gonna shut him up, Edmondo?" he demanded. "Beat the livin' shit out've him now an' promise him the same if we get the echo of a whisper about this deal?"
"There is a better way," Edmondo replied quietly. "We will take her back into the bedroom, and he will fuck her. Then he is as guilty as we and cannot talk."
There was an instant's silence broken by Linda. "No!" she screamed. "No! No! No! I won't-"
Charlie slapped her casually in her bare belly, driving the breath from her lungs. "You got the program, Edmondo," he approved.
"C'mon, let's get her in there. Him, too."
They dragged the gasping Linda into the bedroom and threw her on the bed. Edmondo prodded the dilatory janitor along with the point of his knife. "Hold her down for him!" Carl growled, obviously enjoying himself. "Get your pants off, jerk!" he flung at Cummings.
The big man started to blubber. "I don't wanna hurt-"
"We don't give a damn what you want, rube!" Charlie sneered. "Get your ass and your balls out in the breeze an' climb aboard this twitch here."
Linda was almost spread-eagled on her own bed. Carl held a wrist, Mousie a wrist, Charlie an ankle. Only Edmondo still hovered near Walter Cummings with his knife at the ready. Linda kicked frantically with her free leg. "Don't h-hold me! Don't hold m-me!" she pleaded. The threatened immobility in the face of unknown danger terrified her. "I won't f-fight! Please! I promise I w-won't fight!"
"Okay, let her go, gang," Charlie ordered. "But keep your legs open, y'hear?" he added to Linda. "If this rube can't see your bare snatch I don't think he'll know which way to go."
Walter Cummings had removed pants and shorts. He stood huddled together, his long, thick pole projecting before him. "Fuck her!" Edmondo said fiercely, and jabbed him in a buttock with the point of the knife.
Cummings yelped and lurched toward the bed. "I don't wanna hurt her," he whimpered even as he was crawling in between Linda's parted legs. His huge erection prodded her nude stomach, and she gasped. "She's so pretty an' so soft an'-"
"Ahhhhhh for Chrissake," Carl wheezed. "Somethin' better'n he ever had in his life, an' he's cryin' about it. Stick him again, Edmondo."
The janitor flinched away from the advancing knife. He seized his prick in his right hand and sought to apply its bulging head to Linda's still-wet pussy-hole. Her dark fleece was stickily matted from the boys' previous deposits. "Stick it in her, rube!" Charlie growled.
Desperately the big man probed at Linda's pink gash. He didn't even seem to know where her hole was. From the corner of her eye Linda saw Edmondo advancing the knife again, and fearful of possible damage to herself from the terrible tool poised in front of her, she quickly reached down and took it in her hand and guided the tip to her place of business. Walter Cummings gasped at the touch of her hand, then fluttered his hips. It was Linda's turn to gasp.
Edmondo pricked the big man in a meaty buttock. Cummings yipped and surged forward. Linda yipped as the huge pole shoved into her grotto, fortunately still moist. And then suddenly Walter Cummings was thrusting away at her like mad, slobbering and grunting and whining in her ear as his furiously plunging behind rode his hardened rod into Linda's depths. She flinched as the rubbery tip collided on each downward lunge with her cervix.
"Hey, hey!" Mousie crowed delightedly. "Lookit him go!"
"Yeah, man!" Carl chimed in excitedly. "That's really a stuffed cunt she's shovin' up at him!"
The janitor choked and whistled and brayed as he thrust frantically in and out of Linda. She felt only bewilderment; the big man's action was so rapid she had no time for sensation from one fuck-stroke before she was overwhelmed by the next. His lunging power pushed her toward the head of the bed. Then she felt him rise up on his knees as he poured an unrestrained load of semen into her that flooded her interior all over again. Walter Cummings gave a long, shuddering groan, raised his head, and peered into Linda's face. Despite his bulk his expression was so boyishly miserable that Linda instinctively patted his shoulders before she thought.
"All right, roll off her," Carl said briskly. "Let's get out've here, gang. An' you," he growled at the sweaty-faced janitor, "one peep out've you an' you'll do twenty-life for armed rape."
They left the bedroom. Linda rose to her feet instinctively as they herded Walter Cummings along with them. The janitor's warm spend trickled slowly down her inner thighs.
She stood there until she heard the apartment door close.
She threw herself face down across the bed and blubbered unrestrainedly. She hated herself, and she hated the boys. She could never look in the mirror again after the memory of this day. How could she after the terrible things that had been done to her?
When her crying jag showed signs of lessening, she became aware that she was uncomfortable. She had thrown herself on the bed in the exact place where the excess gism from the boys' come had trickled from her pussy-lips down her thighs onto the bedspread. The bed was sopping. Linda rolled onto her back with her hands swiping at her greasy, sticky stomach. She felt so dirty that fresh tears of self-sympathy welled up into her reddened eyes.
Wearily she climbed to her feet, stripped the bed, and carried the sodden bed linen to the laundry hamper. That taken care of, she opened the closet, door and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She stared in disbelief at her disordered hair, hag-like in its wild-flying dishevelment; at the first faint marks of hickies around her breasts from hard-sucking mouths; at the blotchy red marks on her gism-shiny belly from multiple friction; and at the sticky, matted curls on her mount concealing little of her bright red, swollen cunt-lips.
Staring at this apparition, she sank down on the floor with a moan and buried her head in her thighs.
The whole miserable affair was incredible.
It simply couldn't have happened.
But it had.
Sunday was a long day for Linda.
She didn't leave the house.
She hadn't left it on Saturday after the departure of the boys. She had moped around for a good two hours afterward, feeling sorry for herself. Then a quick thought had stilled the breath in her throat. Good God, she was afloat with accumulated semen! Suppose she had a baby? It had sent her running to the bathroom where she had alternately soaked and douched at fifteen minute intervals. She wondered anxiously if she had been in time.
On Sunday morning her pussy had been really tender, and she had found herself walking gingerly with her thighs apart. Every step she took during the day was a bitter reminder of the event of the previous day. And her anxiety increased. Suppose one of the boys had a disease? None of them had used a thing. Suppose she really became pregnant? What would she do then?
Always, though, her turbulent thoughts returned to the possibility that the whole nightmare might be repeated as Charlie had indicated.
She ought to go to the police, she told herself determinedly.
But what could she tell the police that wouldn't brand herself as complaisant? "Let's see your bruises, lady." Linda could hear the official voice and visualize the official scorn when there were none.
She should go to a doctor, too, but what could a single girl tell a doctor? A single girl with a semi-official position? Girls with boy friends were on the Pill. Linda wasn't on the Pill. If she should become pregnant....
Late Sunday afternoon her telephone rang.
She stared at it stupidly for a moment before replying.
She had retreated so far into semi-isolation after her experience that it was almost as though she had no outside contacts. "Y-yes?" she said shakily.
"How you doin', sugar?" the familiar voice drawled in her ear.
Linda's hand tightened on the phone until her knuckles whitened. "You-you-" she stammered, unable to shape a phrase. "I ain't buggin' you, sugar," Charlie's deep voice continued. "I mean it. How you doin'?"
"All-all right," Linda managed to say.
"Your cunt sore?"
She winced at the Anglo-Saxon. "A little."
"It'll be good as new in a couple days," he assured her breezily. "Well, that's all. Just wanted to check."
"Charlie-" she said quickly, afraid he was going to hang up on her.
"Yeah?"
"You're not--you won't-" She sought for words "-you won't t-tell Carole about-about what happened?"
"Naah," he said. "Don't worry, I've just about had it with Carole. I think she's gettin' the message. Best thing she ever done for me was steer me to you." He chuckled.
"Please don't tell her," Linda begged. "I could-I could never hold my head up again."
"Don't worry," Charlie repeated, "I doubt I'll see her again. That way." There was a humming sound on the telephone line as he was silent for an instant. "You know," he continued as if it was necessary there be no possible misunderstanding. "To fuck her. She's no good in bed. Nothin' like you."
Linda thought of a hundred things to say but could get none of them out of her mouth.
"So long, sugar. See you around. We'll be gettin' together."
And then the phone clicked and it was too late to say anything.
Linda slept poorly that night.
On Saturday night she had slept like the dead.
But Sunday night she had nightmares.
Nightmares featuring Mousie's maniacal glee as he danced around the bedroom after making her come; nightmares featuring her own almost slavish submissiveness to Edmondo's long, thick prick plunging into her cunt, triggering the wild sexual abandon which had forever destroyed her own image of herself as a lady.
She woke once, found herself wet as she groped sleepily between her thighs, wiped her fingers furiously on the sheet, and cried herself back to sleep.
Chapter V
Monday morning Linda went to work as usual.
Saturday night and all day Sunday she'd felt as though she could never face the world again, but Monday's clear, crisp morning sunlight revived her spirit. No one can tell anything by looking at me, she assured herself.
She lost herself in the familiar routine of work and was surprised to find Mr. Craven locking his desk. She hadn't realized it was closing time. She cleared her own desk, locked up, and walked through the quiet corridors to the main part of the library en route to the parking lot and her car.
She did a couple of errands she would normally have done over the weekend and then drove to her apartment. Parking in her usual slot, she saw a girl lounging at the apartment's rear entrance. A quick second look disclosed that it was her niece, Carole. Linda sat with her hands limp on the steering wheel. What could this visit presage? Had Charlie gleefully betrayed Linda's shameful exploitation?
She made herself get out of the car. "Hello, Carole," she forced herself to call upon approaching the apartment doorway. "Were you waiting for me?"
"Yes," the tall girl replied. In looks she was very similar to Linda but without the latter's maturity. "I'd like to come upstairs and talk to you if you'll let me."
"Certainly," Linda said with as much heartiness as she could muster. She thought that Carole seemed subdued.
There was no further conversation as they mounted the stairs. For a heartstopping instant as Linda turned the key in her door she wondered what she'd do if the boys were in the apartment, but it was empty. "Coffee?" she asked Carole when they had proceeded to the living room.
"No, thank you." Carole seemed definitely ill-at-ease. The girl sat down in an armchair and repeatedly smoothed her miniskirt down over her lap, an action which still afforded a view of long, sleek-stockinged legs and round thighs. Linda sat down on the couch opposite Carole. The girl had been staring down at her hands plucking at the hem of her skirt, but she finally looked up at Linda. "I can't understand why you haven't told mother about what I did to you," she said.
"Why-" Linda began.
"At least I assume you haven't told her, because she hasn't made me reacquainted with the hairbrush as yet," Carole went on. The dark-haired girl smiled faintly. "I've been expecting to become reacquainted, arid the delay is making me nervous, so I thought I should talk to you. That's one of the reasons for my coming here," she corrected herself.
"I haven't told your mother, as you suspected, and-" Linda was surprised to find the decision full-formed in her mind "-I'm not going to tell her."
"You're not?" Carole bit her lip. "But after...."
"I consider what happened to be between the two of us," Linda said firmly.
Carole shook her head. "Now you make me feel worse than ever," she said ruefully. "My second reason for coming today was to apologize to you. Not for the spanking-I was still hot enough about mine to feel you deserved it. But I shouldn't have brought Charlie into it. I should have brought a girl friend. It was miserable of me shaming you like that."
"It's done now, dear," Linda said gently. Privately she wondered what Carole's reaction would be if the seventeen-year-old only knew what had followed from her vindictive spanking of her aunt.
"And you don't want any of your own back? You know you have only to tell mother and she'd blister me.
"I know," Linda agreed. "But a blistering for a blistering seems like fair exchange. After all, I didn't feel exactly right about my part in your spanking, you know."
"Mother just preempted your services," Carole said. "She has a way of doing that." The tall girl still looked troubled. "I feel like a heel," she said frankly.
"It's past," Linda said briskly.
"Well-" Carole rose to her feet abruptly and before Linda had any inkling of her intention the tall girl had crossed the room and draped herself across Linda's knees where she sat on the couch. Carole reached behind her and flipped up her brief skirt, disclosing a panty-stockinged bell-shaped behind. "I honestly think I'd feel better if you took a few whacks," the girl said in a muffled voice.
Linda dropped a palm upon the chubby backside and patted it. "It's all right, dear," she told Carole. Her hand glided smoothly over the girl's warm buttocks, caressing them. "You really have a lovely little seat, Carole."
"Nothing like yours," Carole replied. Her hips moved lazily in their thin covering under Linda's stroking palm. "You could have knocked Charlie's eyes off with a stick when he saw it." Carole sighed deeply as her long legs moved in a languorous rhythm as Linda continued to fondle the beige-colored amplitudes. "Charlie used to be my boyfriend, but I guess he's thrown me over."
"What makes you think that, Carole?"
Carole thrust herself slightly upward so that more of her behind was available to Linda's hand. "That feels good, Aunt Linda. Oh, I don't know. About Charlie, I mean. You get a feeling. I gave him everything he wanted, and now I think he's tired of it." The girl was silent for a moment as Linda stroked the plump buttocks in concentric circles. "Sometimes it's not easy to be a girl."
"Indeed it's not," Linda agreed.
"With boys, I mean." Carole lifted her head from its down-dropped position on the couch and half-turned so she could see her aunt's face. "I suppose you're horrified because I let him do what he wanted?"
"I think that's your business, dear," Linda said gently.
"You never know what they want," Carole said moodily. "I don't think they know what they want. From one five minutes to the next, anyway. They-say, you know your hand is really getting to me?"
"Is it, dear?" Linda stopped her stroking movement. "Would you like me to stop?"
"Oh, no. It feels nice. If a boy was doing it, I'd be all tensed up, waiting for him to grab. That's what I mean about them."
"I wouldn't blame one for grabbing from the evidence I see here," Linda observed. She resumed her half-patting, half-stroking caresses of her niece's plumped-out buttocks. "I'm liable to grab myself."
Carole giggled. "I almost said 'I dare you.'" Her tone had turned introspectively dreamy. "I had a girl friend once, really a good friend. We used to-you know."
"Play together?"
"Mmmmmmmmmm." Carole sounded almost drowsy. "It was nice. No complications. But I was afraid I was getting to like it too much. I cut it out."
"I think most women like that sort of thing, Carole. Regardless of what they're getting from their men."
"Really? Well, I can certainly see why. A man's body is hard, and muscled, and even uncomfortable, while a girl's-"
"Is soft, and round, and warm," Linda finished for her. She delivered a light slap to each pantystockinged hind cheek in turn, then upon impulse plucked at the elasticized waist of the thin material and drew it downward, exposing three-quarters of Carole's behind. "Just checking you for scars from your mother's hairbrush," Linda said lightly, surprised at her own boldness.
Carole giggled again. "I should check yours," she said. She half-turned again to look up at her aunt. "Find any?"
"Nary a scar." Linda moved Carole slightly forward on her lap, bent her head quickly, and planted a firm kiss on each warm, nude globe. "There. That's for nothing, Carole. Now do something."
The tall girl remained momentarily still after Linda's salute of her hind parts. Then she rolled over until she was face upward on Linda's lap. The pantystocking had slipped downward in front, exposing the soft bowl of her bare stomach, but her crotch was still covered. The material had been sucked into it, though, until it was starkly outlined. Linda could see the compressed dark bush of Carole's pubic hair through the wispy material.
"Aunt Linda?" Carole said. She sounded slightly hoarse.
"Yes, dear?"
"Let's play."
Linda didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Are you sure you want to, Carole?"
For answer Carole scrambled upward from the couch. With the dispatch of an Indian shucking an ear of corn she peeled off her clothing. She kicked off her shoes, skinned the pantystocking down over her hips and legs and stepped out of it after pulling it off first one foot and then the other. Baby-naked, she sat down again on Linda's lap. "It's all yours, Auntie," Carole said with an attempted lightness that failed to conceal her nervousness.
Linda patted her, stroked her, played with her fleece, and kissed a tip-tilted breast. "It's all right, dear," she sought to soothe the girl. "You haven't made any mistake."
"I knew you'd never take the lead," Carole whispered with her lips against Linda's cheek. "What are we going to do?"
"First we're going into the bedroom, dear."
"And can I undress you?"
"You certainly may." She spanked the portion of Carole's smooth rump extending beyond Linda's supporting thigh, and Carole rose to her feet. They walked into the bedroom with Carole's nervousness a thing of the past. The girl seemed lightheartedly joyful. "I don't even know where to start," she giggled. "You'll never know how long I've wanted to do this."
Her hands flew over Linda's clothes-fastenings, stripping her aunt in seconds. Then the two white bodies came together beside the bed, belly-to-belly, with four hands cuddling four hind cheeks, while they exchanged a long, lingering kiss. "Mmmmm," Carole said when their mouths separated to breathe. "That was lovely."
"This is better," Linda said, drawing the girl toward the bed. She sat down herself, then pulled Carole forward so that they fell over on the bed with Linda on her back and Carole's tall body stretched out along Linda's. Carole's perky breasts were merged with Linda's larger ones, and Linda widened her legs and let Carole slip downward slightly. "Oh, boy!" Carole breathed. "Our pussies are touching!"
Linda filled her hands with her niece's upturned buttock cheeks, kneading the soft flesh. She ran a finger deeply into the girl's warm crevice, and Carole squirmed. "You're getting me-hot!" the girl gasped.
"And what happens when you get hot?" Linda teased.
"I gush, Carole answered. She rubbed her belly against Linda's, and Linda could feel Carole's fleece brushing vigorously against Linda's mound. "And gush, and gush, and gush. I need diapers. Charlie said he never saw anyone get as wet as me." She was silent for a moment. "I can't seem to stop talking about him."
"Or thinking about him?" Linda queried. She separated Carole's hind cheeks with her wrist and curved her hand far around so her probing fingers touched the girl on the quick. Carole gave a little jump.
"I don't think I'm in love with him," Carole said slowly when the height of the sensation imparted by Linda's probing hand had diminished. "But he really did get to me. He's so damn strong, almost carelessly strong-"
"Yes," Linda agreed, and could have bitten her tongue.
But Carole hadn't noticed. "I don't think I like boys very well," she said. "They're nice to you in the beginning, till they get what they want. Then even when they're still getting it they start to get rough. I'm a little tired of going to bed and being half afraid of getting hurt. It takes all the fun out of it." She smiled down at Linda. "Girls are better."
Linda rolled Carole onto her side and looked down at her niece's piquant features. "You really want to play, Carole?" she asked. "Hon-est-to-John and cross-your-heart?"
"Honest-to-John and cross-my-heart," Carole solemnly affirmed.
"And I don't have to worry about loose talk from you afterward?"
"I trusted you today because I believed you when you said you weren't going to tell mother about the other day so I wouldn't get my bare bottom whaled," Carole reminded her. "Certainly you can trust me, Aunt Linda."
"Then let me up for a moment."
Carole withdrew the arm encircling Linda's waist, and Linda slipped from the bed, walked into the front hall, and picked up the telephone. She dialed the number of the physical education office at the high school and smiled in gratification when the phone was answered. "Helen? I was hoping I'd catch you before you left for home. Why don't you stop by here on your way? I have an inducement."
"An inducement, Linda?" Helen answered. "You know, you sound excited. "What's the inducement?"
"I have a recruit," Linda replied. "And I'll guarantee her reliability."
"A recruit! How lovely! Anyone I know?"
"Why don't you come over and see?"
"I wouldn't miss it for a farm," Helen said warmly. "I'm on my way."
Linda smiled again and replaced the receiver.
Carole was sitting on the bed when Linda returned to the bedroom. "I could hear," she said, hugging her doubled-up knees. "But who is it?"
"Helen Dickinson, the phys ed teacher at school."
"She's cool," Carole said warmly. "And the girls like her. She plays?"
"You'll see," Linda predicted confidently. "But why are we wasting time?" She sat down beside Carole and cupped an erect breast with its dark areola, and grape-colored crest, then lowered her head and took it in her mouth Linda tongued the stiffening nipple steadily and in a few seconds a rash of goose bumps popped up on Carole's body. A long shiver ran through her, and she murmured something unintelligible as Linda's quick tongue flirted with her sensitive flesh.
Carole's free hand-the one that wasn't crowded against her side by Linda's body-sought out the smooth slope of Linda's creamy belly and stroked it. The hand dipped down into Linda's curls and played with them, then slipped still lower. A finger pressed for admittance at the juncture of Linda's round thighs, and Linda leaned backward a bit to allow the finger passageway while Linda shifted her attention to the mate of Carole's stimulated bubby.
Carole's questing finger danced lightly along the pathway of Linda's sex. The finger traced the pouting crease and lingered at the entrance to Linda's grotto. "Glad to see I'm not the only one with drainage problems," Carole said with a nervous snicker. She was silent for a moment. "Aunt Linda?" It came out almost in a whisper.
Linda removed her warm mouth from Carole's pear-shaped breast with its stiff-standing nipple. "Yes, dear?"
"May I see it?"
Linda twisted around on the bed until she could stretch out on her back. She lifted her legs, then widened them, and she heard the quick catch of Carole's breath as the girl gazed upon her aunt's fleecy mound and pink-lipped gash. Carole lowered her head until she was inches above Linda's cunt. Linda could feel her niece's warm breath on her most inflammable sexual part.
She had thought that Carole might be too timid to make a direct move, but the tall girl pressed her face down into Linda's thigh-juncture and planted warm kisses from mound to slit. Then she raised her head almost defiantly to look into Linda's face. Linda quickly raised herself, threw her arms around the girl, and kissed her firmly on the mouth so Carole would have no mental reservation about where her own mouth had been.
Carole had just started to return her attention to her former target when there was a knock at the door. "You come, too," Linda said, taking Carole by the hand. Carole's nervousness had returned, and she walked unsmiling with Linda in a symphony of jiggling breasts and wagging backsides into the front hall. "Helen?" Linda called before she removed the chain latch.
"You know it," Helen's cheerful voice responded.
Linda opened the door. Helen entered, her eyes flicking from nude figure to nude figure as Linda replaced the latch. "Carole, you lovely thing!" Helen exclaimed. "What a delightful surprise!" She threw her arms around the naked girl and hugged her tightly. Then her hand sped to the tall girl's fleece-lined jewel box and touched Carole's little bird. "I'll guarantee you I'm going to have a taste of that within five minutes!" Helen announced, and Carole smiled, the previous tension again relieved.
"First things first," Linda suggested as Helen embraced her and kissed her soundly. "Let's get you out of your clothes."
In the bedroom Linda and Carole removed Helen's dress and slip. Carole was awarded the task of unhooking the garter tabs and peeling Helen's girdle down. "Look at those freckles!" Carole whooped, staring at the light-golden dusting on Helen's wide-flaring bare buttocks.
"The initiation fee for newcomers is a kiss per freckle," Helen stated as she rubbed at the marks left on her stomach by her girdle.
"But I claim squatter's rights," Linda said. She dropped down on her knees behind Helen and kissed the milky hind cheeks inch by inch.
"What beautiful skin!" Carole marveled as she removed Helen's brassiere. "Aunt Linda, did you ever see anything like it?"
"Nor tasted anything like it," Linda added, climbing to her feet again.
"Let me start on my initiation fee," Carole pleaded as Helen took her firmly by the arm.
"Later, little one," Helen answered. "I hope we're going to explore the entire range of sexuality eventually, but I can't stay long right and your aunt will tell you I have a real thing about young girls' cunts. I want to suck yours. OK?"
Carole nodded with some of her former timidity returned; Helen's outspokenness startled her. She permitted herself to be led to the bed again, though, and Helen seated her on its edge. The phys ed teacher knelt in front of Carole and permitted her heavy breasts to drag across Carole's bare thighs. Carole shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
Helen raised her hands and placed them on Carole's breasts, pushing her slowly backward until Carole overbalanced and sprawled on her back. Helen at once picked up Carole's thighs and spread them, disclosing to Linda standing slightly to one side the girl's compact salmon-lipped quim nestled in its raven fuzz. "Look at that lovely thing, Linda!" Helen said unctuously, smacking her lips. "I can taste it already."
With her hands still on Carole's thighs she slid the girl forward on the bed so her hips rested on its edge. Helen then promptly raised Carole's legs and draped them over Helen's shoulders as she crouched in front of Carole. A hissing sigh escaped the girl as Helen's ravenous mouth plunged down upon the exposed young pussy.
Helen's long pink tongue flicked and flirted all over Carole's, coral-colored slit, questing, penetrating, laving, and tickling. Muscles jumped in Carole's slender thighs at the stimulation taking place below her little pot belly. The girl leaned back on her elbows with her eyes closed as Helen worked busily at tonguing every sixty-fourth of an inch of Carole's cunt.
The girl was squirming now, her bare hips agitated, her breasts bobbing. "Ooooo, what-you're-DOING-to me!" she whimpered. Helen had to pause for breath for a moment before she returned to her delightful task.
Helen plunged her head down and sucked half of Carole's pink gash into her mouth, lipping at it and worrying it. Carole squealed and bucked her hips up into the air, forcing more of her excited twat into Helen's willing mouth. Helen chewed on it noisily as Carole's slim thighs writhed like snakes. "Ohhhhhhh!" the girl gasped.
Helen released her prisoner to dart her powerful tongue into Carole's damp orifice upon whose lips beads of moisture were plainly visible. Helen took time to lick them off before once again plunging her tongue within Carole's quiver. "Aieeeeeee!" Carole brayed, climbing with her hips again. "Aunt-Linda! Ooooooooh!"
Linda knew the girl wasn't calling for help. Carole was just expressing girlish surprise at the audacity with which Helen's tongue probed her to the core. The phys ed instructor hunched her broad, glistening shoulders as she worked her busy tongue like a little prick inside the tall dark girl's cunt. Then she removed the tongue and sucked the whole of Carole's play-pretty deep into her mouth where she squirted it from side to side and tongued it up and down.
"Ohh!" Carole exclaimed in a different, startled tone. "Ohhh, I-you're-ooooh, Aunt Linda, I'm-ohhhh! Ohhhhh! Ooooh! Ohhhhhhhh!"
She humped her chubby bottom furiously as she spent into Helen's tightly-glued mouth which never became dislodged from its target despite Carole's violent reaction. Helen sucked and swallowed heartily as the muscles in the tall girl's thighs stood out like steel guitar strings. When Carole's bare behind sank down upon the bed again and the girl relaxed taut muscles with a long sigh, Helen backed off just enough to lick up the traces of Carole's orgasm which had somehow escaped Helen's vacuum-cleaner mouth.
"Ohhhh, God, I never f-felt like that with a man!" Carole whispered, trying in vain to suppress a tremor that rippled through her lovely body.
Helen had been cleaning her own greasy lips with the tip of her tongue; she looked at Linda inquiringly. "You mean she's not a virgin?"
"Not by at least one husky blond boy," Linda said. She had frightened herself by almost saying "one husky prick." She was going to have to watch her tongue, particularly in moments of sexual excitement.
"I wish I'd brought a dildo," Helen said wistfully.
Carole's eyes had been closed; she opened them. "What's a dildo?" she asked.
"A dildo is a substitute for a man's prick " Helen explained.
Carole nodded. "I've heard of them. I've never seen one."
"You will," Helen promised her.
"Well, you've been done up by an expert now dear," Linda said to Carole. "How do you feel?"
"I never felt anything like that before," Carole replied soberly.
"You mean you've never come with your boy friend?" Helen asked.
"Oh, I've come." Carole frowned slightly. "I think. But it never felt like that. I thought my bones were melting. It was simply great."
Helen glanced at the wristwatch which was her only article of apparel. "Linda-"
"Yes," Linda remembered. "You said you had to leave. What would you like us to do for you before you go?"
"The possible varieties stun my imagination," Helen answered. "But I'll save the real goodies for when I have time to relax and enjoy them. For now-" she hesitated "-how about you doing me up while Carole lets me have at her deliciously dripping cunt again?"
"No sooner said than done," Linda declared. She quickly positioned Helen on her back with her wide hips close to the edge of the bed. "Carole, dear," Linda instructed, "turn your back to Helen and sit down on her face. Carefully."
She watched while Carole widened her thighs and placed one on either side of Helen's head, then squatted gingerly. From the quick tremor at rippled through the girl's flesh Linda surmised that Helen hadn't waited to employ her Amazing tongue once more.
Linda sank to her knees and dropped her head upon the bright red curls of Helen's muff which stopped almost abruptly at her slit. Linda kissed the convex lower belly lingeringly before dropping her mouth to the inviting target. Helen had a big, sprawling cunt that seemed to wander all over the place, in contrast to Carole's neat, tight-looking little bunghole.
Linda licked rapidly at the soft lips with their traces of fine red hair just to stir the juices. She knew what Helen really liked. When she judged the time was right, she seized as much of Helen's pouting gash in her mouth as she could manage at one time. Helen's quick grunt of pleasure assured Linda that she was on the right track.
Linda worked at Helen's quiver, pulling at it with her lips, shaking it in her mouth, and tonguing it from time to time. More and more of Helen's musky moisture passed Linda's lips, and then Helen's thighs quivered suddenly and Linda tasted a quick spurt of semi-salty freshet. Simultaneously she heard a yelp from Carole whom she had almost forgotten since in Linda's face-to-cunt position she couldn't see the girl.
Linda worked at Helen's dripping centerpiece until she was sure her friend had had her full measure of pleasure. Then she backed away on her knees, taking her own pleasure in looking at Helen's friction-reddened, oily-oozing cunt-lips.
"I almost came again," Carole told Linda when she had raised her quim from Helen's face.
"That's fine, dear," Linda answered.
"I've got to leave, damn it," Helen sighed.
They helped her dress and saw her to the door. "This was the greatest," she said then. The redhead slapped Linda's bare seat exuberantly. "We're really going to have some times together. Soon?"
"Soon," Linda agreed.
Helen kissed them both and departed.
"I have to leave soon, too, or I may find my behind isn't as safe as I thought since our truce," Carole said to Linda. "But first I want to try to do you. You haven't had any. It won't be as good as you two can do, but I hope you'll like it."
"I'm sure I shall," Linda replied.
She lay down on the bed and almost dispassionately watched Carole's awkward efforts to bring her to a climax with the young mouth sucking noisily at Linda's sex. Linda moved gently in a simulation of excitement, but she couldn't fool Carole. "My neck hurts," the girl complained during an interval of rest. "And I'm not really turning you on."
"Believe me, I appreciate your attempt, dear," Linda said earnestly. "You'll be fine with a little more practice."
When Carole finally gave up, Linda sat up and kissed her. Carole dressed and they kissed again as they said their goodbyes at the door. "It was beautiful, Aunt Linda," Carole assured her.
"Except that I couldn't do it right for you."
"There's lots of time, dear," Linda said.
"For me to practice?" Carole asked.
Linda found herself blushing. She hugged the tall girl warmly, and Carole favored her with a bright, promising smile before she stepped out into the corridor.
Linda replaced the latch on the door, returned to the bedroom, opened the closet door, went to the bureau and removed the vibrator from the bottom drawer, sat down on the bed, and then watched in the pier-glass mirror while the ivory-white rod of the vibrator disappeared between the ivory-white thighs of the girl on the bed.
After Linda came with a twisting of her thighs and an involuntary jerking of her bottom, she was at once enveloped in the familiar quick feeling of shame at this further violation of her childhood-engendered prohibition against self-abuse.
But she couldn't help it.
She just got so wrought up she couldn't help it.
That evening she decided to go to a movie. After the good vibrations absorbed during the all-too-short stay of Helen and Carole, she couldn't stand the silence of the apartment. She dressed and went down the back stairs to the parking lot. It was dark, and she hurried to her car. Her stomach gave a sickening lurch when a bulky shadow separated itself from the car's shadow and moved toward her. Then she recognized Walter Cummings, the janitor, and she breathed again.
"You startled me. Walter!" she exclaimed. She realized it was the first time she'd seen him since the dreadful scene on Saturday morning, and a scant second later realized additionally that the man had been waiting for her to appear. A tide of adrenalin pumped renewed alarm through her system.
But she needn't have worried. Walter Cummings was almost crying as he tried to convey to Linda his abject apologies for his own part in her degradation. "They made me," he assured her in a choked voice. "I didn't wanna hurt you, Miss Linda. You always been nice to me." He was almost blubbering. "You was even nice to me then. You didn' call me ugly. They didn' have to hold you down. You even patted me afterward. I should've killed myself instead of hurtin' you like that."
"You didn't really hurt me, Walter," Linda hastened to say. Was there some way she could take advantage of this doglike devotion? But she had already seen how helpless he was in the hands of the ruthless gang. "But you mustn't look through my keyhole, Walter. It isn't nice."
"But you're so beautiful, Miss Linda! I love to see you with your clothes off, all white an' soft!" Saliva dribbled from the corners of the thick lips. "I love to see-"
Linda felt herself flushing in the half-darkness. "Will you promise me something, Walter?" she interposed.
"Anything, Miss Linda," the hulking figure assured her earnestly.
"What happened Saturday morning- Linda drew a quick breath as unwanted images danced her mind "-will be our secret, just between the two of us, all right? Neither of us will ever say a word to a soul about those-those boys."
"If you say so," he agreed. He repeated what was evidently a familiar bead on his litany. "I'd do anything for you, Miss Linda. You didn' call me ugly. You was nice to me. You-"
"Goodnight, Walter," Linda said quickly. "Remember, it's our secret."
She waited for the nod of the smallish head on the great shoulders, smiled pleasantly at the hulking janitor, and moved quickly to her car.
Chapter Vi
Ten days went by.
They were busy days at the library and quiet evenings at home, mostly, and Linda's excruciatingly sharp memory of her dreadfully humiliating experience in her own apartment gradually dulled. The subject returned unbidden to her thoughts often, but not with the crystal clear clarity that had tormented her in the immediately following days. The sharp edges of her shameful abasement had blurred. When her quintuple-ravishment swam into her mind now, Linda was additionally shamed that the most forceful image presented-and one she couldn't erase-was that of Edmondo's long, thick, brutalizing cock.
The newly-contrived threesome was a bright spot in her life, although mildly frustrating.
They hadn't been able to get together again yet as a group. It turned out that Carole had school band practice three afternoons a week and Saturday mornings. And Carole's mother, Annette, frowned upon the girl's leaving the house at night if she had to go to school the next day. Helen had a tight schedule which included playing the organ two nights a week for her church choir, and additionally she had been out of town for two days at a teacher's convention.
Since Linda had her own outside activities in addition to her regular working hours, the trip hadn't been able to resume explorations of each other as a group. Linda had had one semi-satisfactory thirty-minute session with Helen during the interval, and a much better one with Carole who had met Linda at work one afternoon and whom Linda had driven home afterward.
Upon further close acquaintance, Linda had found Carole to be a delightfully eager novice. The girl had charm and grace and inquisitive-ness. She was much more sexually outgoing in her cute way than Linda had ever been at her age. Carole's blissful acceptance of Linda's guidance had resulted in an hour of mutual enchantment for them both, but to Linda's regret they had been unable to find a mutually agreeable time to repeat it. Linda was very much looking forward to her next session with the tall, silky-skinned Carole.
Two nights after their stolen hour together Linda had dinner at Annette's. It was an established custom taking place usually twice a month but not on set dates. Carole had been at a girl friend's but had come into the house later when Linda and Annette were in the living room with their coffee cups. The girl had kissed her mother and given. Carole a deceptively simple smooch which in reality consisted of thrusting her hot little tongue into Linda's ear, making Linda's thighs quiver. Carole then smiled and went upstairs.
Annette watched her daughter's retreating back thoughtfully. "She seems more settled down the last little bit," she remarked to Linda. "And I haven't seen that blond monster hanging around, either. Maybe that last spanking did her some good. It should have. My arm was tired for two days."
"Don't you think it's just as likely that she's emerging from that teen-age rebellious period?" Linda observed.
"I hope so," Annette sighed. "With all the ways for a girl to ruin herself physically these days, like pills and pot and booze and the like, sometimes I feel a stiff prick is almost a positive blessing. If only the girl doesn't get pregnant."
The remark delivered in Annette's usual earthy, free-swinging style reminded Linda that her own fears about pregnancy from her encounter with Charlie and his gang had proved fruitless. She was now in the third day of her period which usually lasted four days, although as a precaution she usually wore napkin or tampon through the fifth day. As in so many other thins Annette had been Linda's mentor in that phase of her sexual development, quieting the anxious pre-teenager's fears with her hearty, good-humored, undissimulating explanation and treatment of the natural phenomenon.
"What about you?" Annette said suddenly in the quiet of the living room.
"Me?" Linda responded, both startled and confused because of the nature of her own musings.
"That's right, you," Annette said. "You don't seem to have much spark. Anything eating on you except Helen Dickinson's mouth?"
"You know perfectly well that Helen and I are just good friends," Linda protested automatically. This was a familiar ploy of the observant Annette.
The older sister snorted. "Don't give me that malarkey, baby. I practically raised you, didn't I? I used to bathe you when you didn't have a sprig of hair on your little butterfly."
"And look at it now," Linda said ruefully. "A jungle, practically. I'd shave it if I wasn't afraid it would grow back more thickly."
"Don't do it," Annette advised. "It gets bristly. Men like hairy women, anyway. And we're a hairy family. Look at Carole. She was as bushy at thirteen as I am now. Jim used to laugh at the skinny little tyke with the long black hair covering her half dollar." Annette sighed. "I wish the sonofabitch was around to do something about what's under my bush," she said grimly. "Some days I get so bad I think if I saw him walking up the street I'd take it from him on the front porch."
"You could call him," Linda pointed out.
"When hell freezes over I'll call him!" Annette flared. "D'you think I want him feeling I'm on my knees to him asking for the favor of his big prick?"
"The two of you are stubborn idiots," Linda said calmly. "You know you belong together. You just need to sit down together and work things out."
"We'd need four cops and a marine sergeant to search us for concealed weapons," Annette said gloomily. "Oh, hell, I don't know-"
She stopped speaking as Carole came down the back stairway and re-entered the living room. The girl was in her pajamas and she had a schoolbook in her hand. She smiled warmly at Linda but walked to her mother's chair. "Would you look and see if I have a scratch between my legs, mother?" she asked. "I can feel something but I can't see it even with a mirror."
Annette winked at Linda. "I don't need a mirror to see you've got a scratch between your legs," she declared. "About three and a half inches long, I'd say."
"You know what I mean, mother," Carole said. She fingered herself through her pajamas at the inner juncture of her right thigh. "It's right there."
"Well, then, drop your britches and we'll have a look," Annette said briskly.
Carole put down her schoolbook, then unbuttoned the two buttons at the waist of her pajama trousers. She skinned the pajama bottoms down and stepped out of them, her rotund hind cheeks shining in the lamplight. Annette patted her knees and Carole draped herself over them, still holding the pajama trousers in her hand.
Linda felt her breath quickening at this full-bore display of Carole's exquisite nude bottom. Annette took a sleek haunch in one hand and parted it from its twin while she tried to peer into her daughter's well-fleshed lower aspect. "I can't see a damn thing from this side," she announced. "Turn over."
Carole stood up, seated herself in Annette's lap, lowered herself backward until her shoulders were resting against the chair-back, and elevated and spread her legs. Linda stared longingly at the whole of Carole's pouched pink receptacle pointing directly at her.
Annette fingered her daughter's splayed inner thighs. "This the place?" she asked. Carole murmured an affirmative. "I still can't see anything," Annette went on. "You may have just chafed yourself in the gym playing volleyball. Put a bandaid there in the morning if you still feel it." She placed her knuckles upon Carole's upturned slit. "Is this the time to ask if any-thing's been up here recently except your finger?"
"Amnesty," Carole pleaded with a little smile.
"Amnesty!" Annette blared. "I ought to turn you over again and amnesty your bare butt!"
She looked at Linda and shook her head. "These kids nowadays-" She closed Carole's thighs gently and slapped a slender thigh lightly. "All right, put your pants on and get your tail out of circulation before I change my mind."
Carole obediently rose from her mother's lap and stepped into her pajama bottoms, re-buttoning them at her waist. Annette's head was turned away from Linda who found Carole's cool gaze directly upon her. Linda formed the silent words "You tease!" with her lips. She knew perfectly well that Carole had never had a semblance of a scratch.
The tall girl smiled seraphically and picked up her book. "I have to finish my homework now," she said, and went back upstairs.
"She's not really a bad kid," Annette said gruffly after Carole's departure. "Sometimes I think I'm too rough on her, but it's not easy to raise a girl now. Hell, when I was her age I didn't know much more than that mine was to piss through. Now before they have hair on it they know more positions than Heinz has varieties."
"I think she's a darling girl," Linda said warmly.
"Yeah, well, I just hope she finds a good man," Annette said. "That's the name of the game for a female. Everything else is second best." She was silent for a moment. "We were talking about you," she resumed. "I know you, Linda. You've got no zip, no sparkle. What's gnawing on you?"
Linda hesitated. She had a great deal of respect for her older sister's earthy shrewdness. Dared she tell Annette about the horror with Charlie's gang? More to the point, dared she tell her sister about the threatened re-confrontation hanging over her head like a sword of Damocles with its baldly ominous promise of further physical intimidation, abuse, and humiliation?
Words trembled on the tip of her tongue. It would be such a relief to share her apprehensions with Annette who might easily come up with some sensible solution. But what solution could there be that would protect her? In her mind's eye she envisioned herself skulking about the city in fear of her life until the terrible moment when the enraged gang descended upon her and dragged her into an alley where brass knuckles crashed into her face, destroying it, and heavy boots crunched into her helpless body....
She drew a deep breath. No, she couldn't confide in Annette. The possibility of the gang's vengeance was too awful to contemplate. She'd just have to figure out some way to handle them herself.
"Well?" Annette challenged. "What is it?"
"I'm sorry, Annette," Linda said with attempted lightness. "I was thinking of something else." She tapped her upper thighs with both hands. "It's that time of the month, that's all."
Annette nodded slowly, but she didn't look entirely convinced. "I hope you'll always feel you can talk to me about any problems you might have, baby," she said. "I've lived a little bit longer than you have, and I can tell you the perspective is different."
It was said so kindly and with so much genuine warmth that Linda debated with herself for another moment before again deciding that she couldn't risk it. With the best intentions in the world, Annette still might bring ruin crashing down upon Linda. No, she couldn't risk it.
The sisters exchanged small talk for another half hour before Linda rose to leave. They said goodnight at Annette's front door, and Linda walked to her car at the curb. Despite the unexpected glow conferred upon her by Carole's impish charade, the turn the conversation had taken afterward left Linda in a troubled mood as she drove to her apartment.
It was raining two nights later when Linda locked her desk and prepared to leave the library. She opened an unused file cabinet and removed a spare umbrella she kept there. As usual the library proper was deserted except for the white-haired chief librarian. Linda waved goodnight on her way out to the employees' parking lot.
She had her car door open and had one haunch on the seat when she saw Charlie sitting on the passenger's side. Her heart zoomed up into her throat as a terrified glance disclosed three more silent figures in the back seat.
"Get in," Charlie growled as Linda crouched, paralyzed. "No fuss."
Her coordination had almost vanished, but she somehow shuffled herself under the steering wheel. Charlie reached across her and slammed her door shut, and at the feeling of total confinement for one terrible instant Linda thought she was going to wet herself.
"Please," she heard herself begging. "Please, no. Not again. P-please."
She hardly recognized her own voice. It sounded more like a rabbit-squeak. She had known she would have to face this situation eventually, and she had told herself she would have a solution to it, and now here it was and she had no solution. Not the faintest glimmer of one.
Charlie was regarding her obvious terror with high good humor. "What's the sweat, sugar?" he demanded. "We're just all guys together. You're gonna drive us out to a little place we got, an' we'll have a little fun. Don't you think it's smart of us to have you drive us there so you can't holler to the police afterwards that you was kidnapped? That was Edmondo's idea. Brains he's got along with his sledgehammer."
The thought of being isolated with the unholy crew in a strange place increased Linda's fear by the square of her previous distress. "I'm -it's-I'm h-having my p-period," she stammered, grasping at a straw. In a way it was true. She was on her fifth day when she maintained a precautionary sanitation.
For once Charlie's handsome face appeared disconcerted. "Is that right?" He turned to the back seal. "You hear that, gang? The monkey's got a nosebleed."
There was a momentary silence.
"What the hell," a voice spoke up then, and Linda recognized Carl's customary snarl, "she's got an asshole, hasn't she? I'd just as soon ream that."
Linda could hardly believe her ears. Damp patches broke out under her armpits and between her inner thighs. Her stomach performed a slow, lurching roll that forced her to press her lips together tightly lest she be ill. What were these animals saying about such a-such an unnatural use of her body?
"It might not be so bad," Charlie was saying. His tone was thoughtful. "We could break her in with Mousie's little dink an' work up gradually to Edmondo's."
"Something is better than nothing," Edmondo agreed from his place in the back seat.
"An' she has a mouth as well as an asshole," Mousie piped up in his almost soprano voice. "Oh, Jesus, I wouldn't mind a bit fuckin' myself off in that mouth of hers!"
"Okay, then," Charlie said, and returned his attention to Linda.
"Maybe she ain't got the rag on anyway," Carl spoke up again before Charlie could say anything. "It could be just a stall. Check her out, Charlie."
"You lyin', sugar?" Charlie asked.
"N-no," Linda said faintly.
He leaned across the seat again and flattened the skirt of her dress in between her legs. His big hand traced the contour of her lower belly as far as he could reach under her while Linda huddled herself together. Her face felt as if it was on fire. "What the hell?" Charlie said. He straightened up to look at Linda. "I don't feel a damn thing."
"What'd I tell you!" Carl said triumphantly.
"I'm-I wear a t-tampon," Linda quavered. The palms of her hands felt wet. In her worst moment the previous time with these ruffians she had never felt so acutely embarrassed.
This time Charlie rucked up her skirt and plunged his hand under it. Linda flinched as his rough fingers traced the course of her pantied crotch. The fingers lingered, probed, and departed. "Somethin' in there sure enough," he announced.
"An' it ain't no sugar plum," Mousie predicted. He sounded disconsolate. "Jesus, I'd have loved to fuck that sweet cunt of hers again!"
"We have alternatives, as has been pointed out," Edmondo said quietly. "Why do we delay?"
"Right you are," Charlie said breezily. He tapped Linda on the arm. "Set these wheels in motion, sugar. We'll tell you where to go." He opened Linda's handbag, fumbled among its contents, and handed Linda her car keys.
She drew a deep breath, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. What should she do? There was only one other car on the employees' parking lot, and she didn't recognize it. Then it came to her that it must be the boys'. So there was no hope of rescue from that quarter. Scramble out into the rain and run for it? The memory of Charlie running her down effortlessly in her own living room brought a cold shiver to Linda's spine.
"Let's go!" Carl snapped from the back seat.
Helplessly Linda pushed the ignition key forward. Her swimming eyes and shaking hand combined to make the key clatter uncontrollably against the dashboard. Charlie took the car keys from her and inserted the ignition key in its socket. Linda started the motor and drove slowly out of the library parking lot.
She followed Charlie's spoken instructions numbly. There were a lot of twists and turns. She suspected that the majority were to confuse her. It was hardly necessary, she thought. The rain came down harder and harder, and she could hardly see beyond the narrow area cleared by the hardworking windshield wipers.
After a time she realized that Charlie's directions had placed them in the low foothills west of town. The road climbed in twisty spirals. There was no conversation in the; car. Linda forced herself to concentrate upon her driving. The rain-slick narrow road was enough of a hazard without further mental distractions. She didn't remember ever having seen the road before.
"Next right," Charlie said suddenly.
Linda slowed and made the tight turn onto a dirt road. Arching trees closed above the road so that Linda had the impression she was driving through a green tunnel. She recognized tall pines, scrub oak, Chinese elm, and cottonwoods. The rain pelted down furiously. The car bumped and rumbled over the rough road which was filled with watery potholes.
"There it is," Edmondo said from the back seat at the same instant the car emerged into a small clearing. Directly ahead Linda saw a rough-looking cabin blending into the hillside. Automatically she braked to a stop at the foot of the short path leading up to the cabin. Linda stared at it, swallowing hard. Dear God! she prayed silently. Help me now when I need it!
"All out," Charlie ordered.
Linda pivoted on the seat and swung her legs to the ground. With no conscious thought she found herself running wildly through the dripping, clawing underbrush, Her high heels sank into the mucky ground, nearly overbalancing her as excited shouts rang out behind her and the pursuit was undertaken.
Linda's heart hammered furiously in her bursting chest as she stumbled and slid through waist-high dead grass and spiky scrub. She ran into a tree and hurt her arm, almost falling. Between the rain and the drenched bushes she was soaked to the skin. Desperately she forced her leaden-thighed legs to carry her farther into the brush.
Panting hoarsely, she crouched down in the grass in the pouring rain. Despite her brassiere, her breasts hurt her from their flopping around during her staggering escape-run. The cold rain ran down the sodden back of her dress and penetrated it and her slip. An icy trickle gathered volume and ran down her deep buttock-cleft. Linda began to cry helplessly.
From somewhere behind her Charlie's authoritative voice raised itself above the confused pattern of shouts of which Linda had been only dimly conscious. "All right!" the blond boy yelled. "She can't run far in those heels! Let's get a little system into this an' we'll find her! Mousie, you an' Carl go that way. Work within sight of each other so she can't slip between you. C'mon, Edmondo."
Linda could hear her own rasping breath as the boys thrashed through the scrub oak looking for her. Between the wet, the cold, and her unnatural crouching position her thighs trembled violently. She scrubbed at her tear-wet, rain-wet face with her hands and wondered what to do. She hadn't improved her position. She couldn't go back to her car which was her only salvation. Walking in this wilderness was impossible, and besides, she didn't even know where she was. Her impulsive act had left her worse off than before if that were possible.
The soaking rain both chilled and numbed her. She glanced despairingly about for a drier spot. There was none. What could be worse than this, she thought miserably? Skulking in the wet mud like a hunted animal. But she shivered anew at the thought of becoming a captured animal.
And then it happened. Carl rounded a five-foot-high brushy tangle and stood almost on top of her. Linda screamed as she tried to force her quivering legs to propel her upright so that she could run again. She never got out of her tracks. Carl was upon her in two jumps and seized her right arm. "Fuckin' bitch!" he rasped, and punched her in the belly.
A searing pain scorched Linda's lungs as she doubled up from the force of the blow. Mousie burst through the wet grass and gripped her other arm. "Hey, guys!" his piping voice soared through the rain. "We got her! We got her! Allee allee in free!" He grabbed at Carl's arm when that worthy would have swung at Linda again. "Hey!" the younger boy said anxiously. "You wanna bust her all up before we have our fun?"
Carl's arm dropped reluctantly to his side. "Let's get her to the cabin," he said sourly. "We ought to be able to think up somethin' choice for that smart ass of hers."
With a boy on either arm, they half-led, half-dragged Linda to the cabin. The breath had been driven so forcefully from her lungs by Carl's vicious punch that she couldn't have made it without the boys' support on either side of her. Charlie and Edmondo met them in front of the cabin after Carl and Mousie had lugged her up the path. Cold, wet, exhausted, and battered, Linda numbly awaited her fate, at that particular instant so low in spirit she felt no immediate alarm.
Charlie recognized her condition. "She's damn near done in," he said. "We got to give her a breathin' spell. Get her inside."
Edmondo unlocked the padlock on the cabin door and they trooped inside. The air was dank and chill. Carl flung Linda in the general direction of an old rocking chair. She fell into it heavily and it skidded backward from her weight, nearly overbalancing. Linda closed her eyes with a stifled sob. Her bosom heaved as she still strained for the breath driven from her body.
"Who's got a match?" Carl asked. "I don't give a damn if her ass freezes but I think a little better of mine."
Edmondo produced a book of matches, and Carl took them and knelt in front of a wide stone fireplace where he touched a lighted match to the newspaper under a previously laid cross-hatching of logs. The tiny dancing flame burst across the wadded paper and ate into dry bark, immediately expanding with a roaring sound as the fire flourished in a strong updraft.
Linda opened her eyes again at the sound of the crackling logs. The boys stood in front of the fire, staring at her. Slumped loosely in her rocker, Linda stared back. Her drenched clothing clung to her body curves. A wavelet of comforting heat drifted from the fireplace in her direction. She could see steam rising from the wet clothes of the boys.
The interior of the cabin was one large open room. It was sparsely furnished, but there was a full-sized bed in one corner. Linda looked at it, then looked away. The sheet on it was gray with grime, and on its center there was visible some dried-looking splashes which brought a touch of color to Linda's pale cheeks. The air in the cabin was growing rapidly warmer, and Linda's sense of fear was renewing itself in direct proportion to the lessening of her discomfort.
It was Carl who broke the silence which had persisted since the move inside the cabin. "Ain't we a bunch of drowned rats?" he said bitterly. He lifted a foot and looked at a muddy shoe. "I'll have to throw these away for sure." He glared malevolently at Linda in the rocker. "An' all because of her. I move we take it out've her ass."
"I agree," Edmondo said with more force than usual. The dark-skinned boy was looking with disgust at the sodden ruin of what had been an elegantly-cut jacket. "I will go out and cut a switch." He extended his little finger to indicate the thickness of the switch. "When she feels the blood from her behind running down the backs of her legs she will not be so quick to run the next time."
Linda sat rigid.
"Now wait a minute," Mousie broke in. "Are we gonna rip up her ass before we're done with it?"
"The kid's got a point," Charlie said. "Cut your switch, Edmondo, but save it for later." He began to unbutton his shirt. "It's warm enough in here now. I'm gonna get out've these wet things."
They all began to undress. Linda sat in the rocker and watched while her heart began a slow, heavy pounding that made her left bosom ache. The closer the boys came to nudity the closer she came to the moment she had been desperately trying to avoid thinking about. Thighs clenched tightly, she forced herself to look away from the strip-tease taking place in front of her. She stared down at the muddy ruin of her own shoes, and the splashes of drying mud on her stockings which reached halfway up her calves.
But a force stronger than her willpower made her look up again."
Charlie was naked, the blond hair on his powerful body bronzed in the firelight. He picked up the book of matches which Carl had left on the rough-plank mantel above the fireplace and walked around the cabin, lighting three candles jammed into wine bottles and two kerosene lamps hanging from ceiling hooks. More and more light flooded the room as he progressed.
Mousie was prancing nude in the center of the room, his slender dingus flying up and down as he wrapped his arms around himself. Edmondo's swarthy body gleamed in the firelight as he removed the last of his wet clothing. Only Carl retained what appeared to be the same pair of dirty-looking shorts that Linda had seen previously.
"Hey. Guys, know what?" Mousie said suddenly. He pointed at Linda. "We could make her run the gauntlet. You know, ass bare while she crawls between our legs." He bowed his own legs to demonstrate his meaning. He flailed the air in front of him with both palms, knee-high. "She'd ketch enough getting through the lineup that she'd pray for a better world, but she wouldn't be spoiled for anything we wanted to do afterward. An' it'd really warm her up an' get her in the mood," he went on eagerly. "How about it, guys?"
There was a short silence as four minds envisioned the projected scene.
Five, counting Linda's.
Her right hand rose and clutched at her bosom with nervous trepidation.
"I like it," Charlie said. He crooked a finger at Linda. "You. Strip. Like right now."
Linda felt flustered as her disquietude mounted. She dared not remain in the chair. She rose unsteadily, her perturbed breathing loud in her own ears. What could she say that would stay them from the performance of this additional humiliation upon her? She sought in vain for words as she pulled her saturated dress off over her head. They were angry with her. Better not to make them angrier. Could it be so bad, really? She bit her lip, picturing her exposure. But she would scramble through their legs quickly and end it.
She pulled her slip free from where it clung to her wet flesh and removed it. Suddenly anxious not to prolong the ribald scene, she unfastened her bra and tossed it aside. In deference to her tamponed condition she had worn no panty-girdle; she stripped the sodden panties from her middle and let them collapse around her ankles.
Mousie had taken up a station in the center of the room, facing Linda. Behind him was Carl, then Edmondo, then Charlie. All were grinning, but Mousie's boyish grin was gradually replaced by a look of puzzlement. He pointed to a white thread-like object dangling against Linda's bare thigh just above the stocking-top held in place by an elastic garter. "What the hell's that thing?" the boy demanded.
"That's the string she uses to pull the tampon out've herself when she's finished with it," Charlie explained.
"Oh." Mousie giggled. "Hell of a note if she couldn't get it out sometime, huh?" He shook his head wonderingly. "I never seen one before."
"Okay," Charlie said. "Hands and knees, sugar. Lay it on her, guys. I didn't care for that prowlin' in the rain."
Linda sought for saliva in her dry mouth as she swallowed twice. She looked down at the rough board flooring, then stooped and rolled her stockings down below her knees. Foolish to try to keep them from snagging, but the move was instinctive. She took a deep breath and eased herself down awkwardly onto her hands and knees in front of the bowed-leg Mousie. The position plumped out her heavy hind cheeks until all she could think of was a crepe-paper fold-out section in a greeting card.
"N-now?" she asked tremulously.
"Roll it," Charlie said.
Linda advanced on hands and knees toward Mousie's widened legs above which his slender prick danced lightly. The floor was rough and hurt her knees. She lined herself up accurately and bolted forward between Mousie's legs. The boy shouted gleefully and clamped her waist with his thighs while his two hard-swinging hands went spat-spat-spat-spat-spat-spat on Linda's still-wet bottom. She gasped at the surprising pain, twisted right, then left, but couldn't dislodge the clinging Mousie who spanked steadily at Linda's squirming rear.
Desperately Linda flung herself flat upon the floor, escaping Mousie's thigh-grip but not the hail of spanks which the boy leaned down to apply to her flattened-out behind. On her belly Linda squirmed frantically along the floor and finally passed out of reach of those tormenting, bottom-smarting palms.
"Not bad, Mousie," Charlie said. "Take it from there, Carl."
Shakily Linda rose to hands and knees again in front of Carl who narrowed his leg-stance in obvious emulation of Mousie. Carl spat deliberately on the palm of each hand and rubbed them together briskly. Linda was breathing heavily. Her knees hurt, and her stomach was covered with dirt from her belly-scrabbling progress through Mousie's legs.
She hesitated in front of Carl.
"Roll it," she heard Charlie's inexorable voice. "No stalling."
Blindly Linda started forward again.
Chapter Vii
Carl's bony knees clasped Linda's rib cage tightly as she tried to power her way between his legs. She shrieked her distress as Carl's hands drummed a fiery rataplan of spanks upon her squirming, quivering, bare hind cheeks. Carl leaned down over her back and rode her right down to the floor as Linda's outcries increased, spanking steadily. Feverishly she twisted beneath him, first onto her side, then her back. Carl aimed a final spank at the soft bowl of her stomach, then rose from her reluctantly.
Linda was crying openly. Shuddering sobs shook her entire body as she crawled painfully onto her knees again. "Boy, is her ass gettin' red!" Mousie observed from behind her.
"You'll be able to light a cigarette off it time we're through with it," Charlie said. "C'mon, you," he added to Linda. "Get movin'."
Forlornly Linda approached Edmondo on hands and knees. She had one quick glimpse of his big cock dangling loosely as the swarthy-skinned boy half-crouched, awaiting her. Then she scrambled forward as rapidly as her sore knees would permit to try to cut down the period of her exposure to the hard-slapping hands.
It was as futile as before. "Owww! Owww! Owww!" Linda yelled as Edmondo's thighs gripped her and prolonged her stay between his legs while the sound of the spanks he rained down upon her plump bottom exploded noisily inside the cabin. Desperately she tried to squirm away as the upper and middle slopes of her nude behind felt as if they were on fire. Her voice soared. "Ohhhh! N-no, please! Owwww! Ooooh! OWWWWWWWWWW!"
Her voice caught in her throat suddenly. Her thigh-clenched struggle to escape the tight pressure upon her waist and the burning heat in her scarlet rump combined to produce a familiar deep-thrilling tingle within her. "Ohhhhhh, nooooo!" Linda moaned. Furiously she wrenched herself free from Edmondo's thigh-grip upon her waist. She collapsed on her stomach in front of Charlie, panting like a dog in heat. The thrill-tingle poised in her depths, quivered lightly, then receded.
Linda wept bitterly, prostrate on the floor. What was the matter with her? She knew she had almost come in the midst of this disgraceful, painful exploitation of her tender bottom-flesh which was flaming hotly. What was the matter with the Linda she had known all her life?
"Move it along here," Charlie s voice beat down at her. "You're holding up the parade."
Weeping freely, Linda forced herself up to her hands and knees again. Fearfully she stared at Charlie's husky thighs, matted with blond hair. Anxious as she was to get her painful running-the-gauntlet over, she suspected this last stop would be the most severe. Without giving herself time to think further, she attempted to scramble frantically through Charlie's legs.
It was far worse than she had anticipated, even.
The blond boy gripped her waist with his powerfully-clamping thighs until Linda's ribs felt crushed. She gasped, then groaned. "Ohhhhhh!" she shrieked as Charlie's big hands detonated loudly upon her helpless behind, immobile except in its frantic, ceaseless writhing. She felt as if even her brain were aflame.
Charlie straightened up slightly, his strength so great that Linda's knees lifted from the floor. Dangling from between his legs, her hands beat on the floor frenziedly as her backside, uptilted slightly in its new position, absorbed a thunderous series of heavy spanks.
"Owwwwww! Owwwwww! OWWWW-W-W!" Linda screamed. Her drooping legs kicked froglike in her anguish. And then in a flash the thrill-tickle ignited in her loins again and overwhelmed her, and in the depths of her whimpering shame she felt her behind thrusting up and down independently of its previous efforts to escape Charlie's hard-handed punishment of it.
Her sweat-slippery body finally escaped from Charlie's thigh-pinioning grasp and she plunged to the floor. Hoarse sobs strained her throat as she doubled up into a foetal position in an effort to hide her still-throbbing cunt-lips. Eyes closed, she sought in vain to conquer the betraying internal explosion which somehow seemed to alleviate the smarting burn in her backside. Desperately she tried to conceal it from the prying masculine eyes.
But Charlie had noticed.
Although Linda's bare, scarlet behind was still within reach, he had stopped spanking her. "You know somethin', gang?" he said in a wondering tone. "This damn broad comes off when she gets her ass whaled. I saw it happen when Carole gave it to her, only I didn't really believe what I was seein'." He stooped, untucked Linda's thighs from their doubled-up position, and inserted a finger into her quim. He held up the dripping, slippery-looking finger to the others. "See that?"
"Why the hell would she do that?" Mousie asked curiously.
"Who the hell knows why broads do anything they do?" Carl shrugged. "Well, what's next?"
"God, she's a mess, isn't she?" Charlie said. "Floor dirt stickin' to her, back an' front, knees scraped, an' face all dirty from cryin'. We ought to get her cleaned up."
"That's a handsome red ass she's got, too," Mousie said admiringly. "We really gave it to her, didn't we?"
Charlie inserted a bare toe in Linda's ribs. "Get up," he said. "You're not killed."
Linda struggled to her feet. She didn't even feel much shame, because she had a new problem. "P-please," she said in a whisper. "I've got to-where's the bathroom?"
Carl snickered. "Out behind the first bush," he advised her. "Help yourself. The rain will clean you up."
"What's she mean?" Mousie demanded. "That she's got to piss? Listen, I want to see her take a leak. Wait a minute." He went to a corner of the cabin and returned with an empty quart milk carton. He handed it to Linda. "Go ahead," he said. "Do your stuff."
Linda's teeth were clenched. She felt as though her bladder were already leaking slowly. She looked through the window at the cold rain drumming down outside, then at the milk carton in her hand. She squatted swiftly, seized the tampon-thread and pulled the tampon out of herself, held the milk carton under her, and released a thundering torrent of piss into the carton which had her eyes swimming with tears of relief.
Mousie had crouched down to observe closely the whole performance. "Damn, she can really aim that thing, can't she?" he remarked when Linda straightened back up slowly. Her legs felt so weak she was afraid she would fall.
But Carl had picked up the discarded tampon. "Look, guys," he said. "No blood."
Charlie looked at the damp, compressed, but white tampon. "What day of your period is this?" he asked.
"The f-fifth," she whispered.
"You mean we can luck her cunt?" Mousie exclaimed joyously.
"Give her a rag and send her outside to wash herself off," Carl said. "She can dry off in front of the fire."
Mousie produced a rag, and the group herded Linda toward the cabin door. "Oh, please," she said, hanging back. "It's so-so cold. Not outside. Not bare. Please."
Charlie's hand cracked sharply upon Linda's tender bottom, and she jumped and yipped. Edmondo opened the door. Carl pushed Linda outside into the rain. "We won't let you back in until you're clean," he said, and closed the door.
Linda stood on the muddy path in her stockinged feet with the torrential, icy rain pelting her shrinking flesh. Individual drops stung her nipples. In seconds she was drenched with her hair lying lank on her shoulders. Frantically she scrubbed at the accumulation of floor-dirt on her belly and thighs. She had never felt so thoroughly miserable since the time a gym-class initiation had resulted in a forced cold shower.
More gently she wiped her bottom with the rag, unable to see if any dirt had clung to her sweaty flesh or not. Four faces peered out at her from the cabin window. Linda widened her legs and applied the saturated rag to her pussy which flinched from the frigid application. She flung the rag from her and turned and pounded on the cabin door with both hands.
The door opened, and she stumbled inside.
Frantically she trotted to the fireplace and moaned in relief at the welcome heat. Her usually creamy flesh looked almost gray and pinched-looking. Mousie produced another rag, and Linda patted herself dry after shaking the excess water from her hair.
"Look how her ass has faded out already," Carl said.
"Yeah. It's just a nice pink now," Mousie agreed.
Linda alternately toasted back and front before the leaping flames. Some of the pallor began to leave her skin, and her nipples slackened from their rain-induced tautness. During one of her back-toasting pivots she noticed a change in the arrangement of the cabin. The large bed was no longer in the corner of the room but had been dragged to its center in the area of greatest light. Linda's heart began a slow, distraught pounding.
"Who was that chunky-lookin' redhead I saw goin' into your place the other afternoon?" Charlie said to her suddenly. "She had an ass on her that wouldn't quit."
"That was-that was-" Linda hesitated, taken by surprise. She couldn't mention Helen Dickinson's name. Suppose this awful group somehow involved Helen in their dreadful schemes? "That was Eunice Glenn, a county librarian," she improvised quickly.
"A friend?" Charlie persisted.
Linda thought she knew how his mind was working. "Just--just an acquaintance," she said. "I see her seldom."
"Listen," Mousie broke in. "It's still gonna be a while before she warms up enough to take us on. Why can't she be suckin' on a couple pricks in the meantime?"
Linda's cold stomach lurched.
"A damn good idea," Carl said emphatically. "I've been wantin' to get that I-wouldn't-say-shit-if-I-had-a-mouthful look off her stupid female face ever since I first saw her."
Charlie looked at Edmondo, then shrugged. "No reason why not," the blond boy said.
"Then I get to go first," Mousie said. "It was my idea."
"Suit yourself."
Mousie went to the bed and took a pillow from it, his slender nudity showing reflected splashes of firelight. He brought the pillow to Linda who was standing in front of the fire with both hands pressed tightly to her breasts and threw it down in front of her. "Kneel down," the boy ordered importantly.
Linda struggled to find her voice which seemed to have shriveled somewhere in the back of her throat. "N-no," she said faintly. "I-I won't do it."
"She'd rather have her ass paddled again," Carl said sardonically. "Let's use a belt this time."
"Oh, no!" Linda said quickly. "I'm-I'm still s-sore. But don't m-make me do this. P-please don't m-make me." Her eyes filled with tears.
"Here comes the goddam waterworks again," Carl said disgustedly. "I never did see such a weepy broad."
Mousie pointed down at the pillow. "Kneel down," he said.
"Do what he says," Charlie said sharply to Linda when she made no move. "A mouthful of cock never hurt any girl."
Linda's tears spilled over and ran down her pale cheeks. "I think I could enjoy using my belt on her," Edmondo said with a smile.
Linda sobbed openly and sank to her knees on the pillow. Mousie crowded up against her at once, pushing his grin into her face, and Linda stared in horror at the slender penis with its red head bobbing about in front of her lips. "I don't think she's ever done it," Carl said with relish. "I really don't think she has. Go on, you cunt; a prick in your mouth is too good for you."
"Prick or belt, sugar," Charlie said from above her head. "Take your pick."
Linda's breath felt caught in her throat. If she had any courage she'd take the belt, she thought despairingly. But the memory of the painful smarting caused just by the boys' hard hands was an instant dissuader. Besides, they'd just whip her until she gave in and then make her suck the prick anyway. Linda advanced her head forward gingerly until the rank odor of unwashed boy assailed her nostrils.
She tried to make, her mind a blank. With her left hand she reached for Mousie's slender rod and took it in her shaking fingers. The boy already had the beginning of an erection. Shutting her eyes, Linda advanced her mouth toward the stiffening prick held in her hand.
The rubbery tip bumped her chin, then under her nose. It rubbed against her lips, and she felt a quick quiver in Mousie's slender body. "Suck it in!" the boy said hoarsely. Linda took a quick breath and lipped the tip of Mousie's prong inside her mouth. "Jesus!" Mousie groaned. "Ooooh, Jesus, what a feelin'!"
"Work your tongue around it, bitch!" Carl ordered. "Or I'll really make your ass smoke!"
Linda swirled her tongue around the slightly-greasy protuberance in her mouth. Mousie came up on his toes and lunged at her, and Linda almost choked as almost the full length of the boy's whang slid inside. The back of her throat felt stuffed until she thought she would gag.
"Suck on it!" Carl demanded. "Suck on it hard!"
Linda couldn't breathe except through her nostrils. She pursed her mouth and drew inward experimentally. She had to do something to get this awful thing out of her throat before she strangled.
The quivering erection slid back and forth between her semi-parted lips. She ran her tongue at it again, and Mousie gasped. "Hey!" he exclaimed in alarm. "She's gonna make me come! I oughta pull out! It's her cunt I wanta fuck!"
"Go ahead an' shoot it into her," Carl advised. "You'll be back up again before you can whistle Dixie. Remember the last time?"
But Mousie was already beyond heeding or caring. Linda's clinging mouth and tongue were assaulted by the jabbing motion of the boy's hips. Deeper and deeper the prick was forced down her throat. Then Mousie gave a high-pitched cry and came up on his toes again as he deluged Linda's mouth with his prick-jerking, jet-propelled spend.
Linda gave a muted bleating cry as her mouth was inundated. She choked, swallowed desperately, choked again stranglingly, and swallowed again. Rivulets of uncontained semen ran down from the corners of her mouth and dripped from her chin onto her swaying breasts. Mousie pulled out of Linda's mouth and she gasped aloud. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned piteously, wiping furiously at her mouth, chin, and breasts with her hands.
"So now you're not a mouth-virgin any more," Carl said with satisfaction.
"How could she be a mouth-virgin when she's probably sucked more cunts than you've got fingers and toes?" Charlie asked.
"Well, a prick mouth-virgin," Carl amended it. "Say, while she's down there I want to look over the scene." Linda was still on her knees on the pillow, but doubled forward as she tried to keep from retching. Dimly she felt Carl bend down over her, and then she felt her still-tender hind cheeks spread widely as he gripped one in each hand. She whimpered but didn't dare resist. Carl released one buttock to insert his little finger into Linda's anus, and she squeaked in dismay. Her mind was in a panic as she realized what her total exposure must look like to the avidly staring eyes.
Carl probed cruelly with the finger, twisting it to widen the aperture. Linda cried out in pain and tried to shuffle forward on her knees on the pillow. Carl seized her by the waist with his free arm and held her, meantime boring deeper. "Man, I mean-that's a-tight asshole," he grunted, corkscrewing his fingertip deeper into Linda's flinching rectum. The first joint of his finger had disappeared and he was still gaining ground slowly. "Push back on it and take it, you bitch!" he growled at Linda.
"Ohhh! Ohhhh! Ohhhh!" Linda cried out in pain. "S-stop him! Please stop h-him!"
Carl released her waist and pulled his finger away. It emerged from the constrictive grip of Linda's stretched anus with a popping sound.
"Where'd we leave the vaseline?" Carl demanded.
"Over near the door," Charlie answered. "But before you plug her bunghole I want a shot at her cunt. You forgotten you spoke up for first crack at it?"
"I changed my mind," Carl said. "I'd rather pack her shit."
"Okay," Charlie said. He reached down and tapped the crouching Linda on the shoulder. "Onto the bed, sugar." He paused and looked at the others. "Or wait a minute. Anyone else want to waste a load down her throat?" No one re plied. "All right. Onto the bed," he repeated.
Linda rose to her feet as slowly as she dared. Mortifying sensations from the disgraceful things that had been done to her had succeeded each other so quickly that she felt lightheaded. Her anus still throbbed from the intrusion of the hard fingertip. The nipples of her breasts were sticky from the overflow from Mousie's come. The inside of her mouth felt defiled.
Charlie took her in his arms when she was standing upright. He rubbed his stomach against hers and his chest against her breasts. Linda felt his hard muscularity along the entire length of her soft flesh, and then his stiffening prick rose and prodded her between her thighs. Despite herself her breath quickened.
Charlie inserted a hand between her thigh juncture and worked it up against her gash. "Open up, sugar," he said. Linda moved her legs apart and spread her thighs. Charlie's hand turned over and cupped her entire sex on his palm. Then he squeezed lightly, and Linda shivered. Disturbing feelings were beginning to erupt within her.
"That's a real piece of brisket you've got there," Charlie told her, squeezing it again. He sounded almost jovial. "Reach down an' shake hands with the man who's gonna stand up for you, sugar."
Timidly Linda reached out and took hold of his hard prong which was now bumping against her stomach. She was afraid her mounting excitement was going to betray itself by an excretion of moistness from her pussy-lips in Charlie's palm. She stroked the taut length of his prick with her fingers, then took a hand-hold on the shaft near its head. Charlie moved his hand slightly, separated a finger, and began to insert it into her damp passage. Linda's legs quivered.
"She's gettin' hot!" Mousie declared delightedly. "Give her a good frig, Charlie!"
Charlie patiently worked a few sticky hairs out of the way of his finger, then began to plunge it in and out of her rapidly. Linda rose on her toes as she felt his knuckles rapping at her lower down, but the penetrating finger pursued her into her depths. Charlie's hard mouth suddenly came down upon Linda's, startling her. In all her previous hard usage from the group, none had kissed her at all.
Charlie's mouth forced Linda's open and his tongue searched for hers. She squirmed involuntarily against his hard belly as the steadily frigging finger in her seeping sex organ stirred a sleeping flame. Her hand rubbed the head of his prick as his tongue swirled around hers and she could feel her nipples drawing up into two tight little buds.
She gasped for breath when Charlie suddenly broke the fused contact of their mouths. She buried her head against his broad shoulder, not wanting him to see her face. The rapidly-moving finger in her cunt was driving her crazy. The soles of her feet itched and a live, glowing coal in her interior burst into open flame. She moaned softly and before she realized what she was doing she tried to sit down on Charlie's hand to work the finger more deeply into herself.
The boys all laughed. Linda felt her face flaming, but she told herself that she really didn't care. All that mattered was that red-hot, white-hot squirmy feeling deep inside that demanded something be done about it.
"Ask me," Charlie said suddenly.
Linda raised her head to look at him. "Ask you?"
"Ask me for what you want."
She knew what he meant.
A few days ago she thought she might literally have died before complying. Now it suddenly didn't seem to matter. After all the brutal, hurting things that had been done to her, why should she let a little nice-nellie sense of propriety bar her from something she now found herself wanting desperately? The listening, watching boys were a deterrent, but not that much of a deterrent.
She took a quick breath. "F-fuck me, Charlie," she said unsteadily.
Edmondo smiled.
Carl grinned.
Mousie whooped.
Linda didn't care. She rubbed her bare thighs together over Charlie's wrist where it curved in between her legs. She rubbed her breasts against his hairy chest. All discretion, all long-adaged tenets of ladylike behavior seemed to have flown out the window into the rain still teeming down outside. All she knew was that she wanted the rodlike masculinity in her hand inside her cunt-hole, and she was going to have it.
Charlie stooped suddenly and picked her up bodily, his strong arm under her buttock-cushions. He carried her to the bed and placed her upon it. The sheet felt gritty under her body, but again she didn't really mind. She widened her thighs eagerly as Charlie knelt beside her. She sank down on her back and raised her middle slightly for the pillow he arranged under her bottom.
Then he was crouching over her, his straining prick once more prodding her soft flesh. She reached for it quickly and drew the head up against her slot. She heard her own hissing breath as Charlie joggled his hips slightly and the head slipped in. Hot sparklers seemed to be going off in her womb, and nothing but that prick was going to be able to satisfy her gnawing itch.
Charlie closed with her steadily, his prick slipping up into her cunt and filling it deliciously. She felt none of the stuffed, strained sensation she had encountered before with Edmondo. She felt filled, but delightfully filled. And then Charlie began to move in and out of her with long, slow strokes of his engorged love muscle, and Linda heard herself shamelessly mouthing murmured expressions of supreme satisfaction.
"Mmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmmm! Ahhhhhhhh! Yesssssss! Ahhhhhhh!" she said huskily as the hard pole poked her and stirred her juices. She raised her legs higher to try to get more of him into her. She thrust her bare bottom upward vigorously, trying to time his downstrokes upon her that sent deep, racing quivers rippling all through her heated flesh.
She came so quickly and so easily that it startled her. A single wild-flying surge of clasping thighs and she felt herself inundating his hardworking prick. She sighed brokenly as her frantic breath came in uneven gasps. Charlie's hips never missed a beat as he slammed his lovely meat deep up into her as she lay slack-limbed and dewy-eyed.
She raised her head in amazed disbelief when his hard probing triggered another minor convulsion in her interior. Her eyes encountered the watching faces at the foot of the bed, but she closed them out of her mind. Her thighs raised up reflexively and again seized upon Charlie's taut mid-section. He plowed her steadily as her hips rose higher and higher, corkscrewing upward until her weight rested on her shoulders and the back of her neck. Her molten-lava sheath-walls fluttered madly, grabbing mightily at the welcome intruder therein.
She came again in a frenzied, wriggling burst of lustful energy that almost wrenched her out from beneath Charlie. "Ohhh! Ohhhhh! Ohhhh! It's good! It's gooooooooood!" her unrestrained cries rang through the cabin.
And then Charlie's weight submerged her and she felt him climbing with his knees and burying his chin in her neck and plunging and plunging and plunging and plunging until with a savage cry he shot a boiling load up into her already juicy cranny.
Then there was silence.
As usual Carl broke it. "Did you ever see a hotter piece of twitch than that?" he was demanding.
No one answered him.
Linda found she didn't care even though she realized the implication was aimed at her.
Charlie rolled off Linda onto his side. His face was crimson. He looked at her half-wonderingly, then at Edmondo standing beside the bed. For the first time Linda saw the massive erection that Edmondo held in his hand. Again she found she didn't care. "That is the best I have ever seen you do, my friend," Edmondo said soberly to Charlie.
"I'll say-it was the best," Charlie panted. "I tell you-she like-to wrung me out. That's some-little fucking machine-there, now you -better believe it."
"I am prepared not only to believe it but to demonstrate it," Edmondo replied in his curiously stilted English. "If I may have your place in the arena?"
Charlie rolled off the bed and got to his feet. His shriveled prick dangled limply between his legs, its flushed head and greasy exterior attesting its recent involvement. Linda felt curiously languid as Edmondo moved in between her still-parted thighs with their brimming centerpiece fiery-lipped and slack-looking. She braced herself for the onslaught of his long, thick prong but experienced no real concern about it. For the moment her feelings appeared to be in limbo.
Edmondo widened her thighs still more and applied the hard knob of his prick to Linda's passageway. It stretched her, but she was so well lubricated that it entered her grotto without trouble. Edmondo worked it slowly about, from side to side as well as in and out. Gradually Edmondo eased into her more deeply. Linda grunted a couple of times as she felt the huge whang stretching her cunt-walls, but the gradual distention left her experiencing only a minor portion of the acute distress of the first time.
Edmondo settled his knees and picked up Linda's nude buttocks. He began to ride her slowly, and she flexed herself upward under him but with little of the furiously-impelled swiveling bottom-movement that Charlie had induced in her. Linda felt almost comfortable in a strange way. She had to reach into her memory to recall that this was a shocking thing being done to her by this group of intimidating boys.
Gradually Edmondo picked up his tempo. The steady slapping of his bare belly against Linda's resounded throughout the cabin. When she raised her legs slightly, the swarthy-skinned boy's heavy balls bounced from the lower portions of her hemispheres. Her breasts wen; flattened under his weight, and her nude hind cheeks felt so slack-muscled that they were buffeted about without resistance on her part by Edmondo's fiercer stroking of her relaxed quim. It was so quiet in the room that she could hear the sound of the rain on the roof.
The soles of Linda's feet began to burn, then to tingle. A hot spark in her middle surprised her; almost incredulously she felt it fanned to another glowing coal. Pythonlike, her legs climbed and clamped Edmondo, and her bottom began to heave seemingly of its own accord. A yelp trembled in her throat, only to be expelled when Edmondo's next hard plunge again buried him in her depths. "Eeeeeee!" Linda swallowed hard. "Ohhhhh! I'm-you're-ooooh! You're- my pussy! My-ohhhhhhhhh!-pussy!"
She lingered longer at the crest, and once thought she had lost it. Redoubling the clutching of her squirming thighs, she caught it on the rebound and spiraled downward in a mind-bursting, sensation-shattering series of eruptions in her vulva. Thoroughly drained, she laid in limp lassitude as Edmondo worked himself up to his own climax and thoroughly doused her slack-mouthed love object. She felt blissfully tired, so much so that she hardly noticed when Edmondo pulled out of her.
She raised her head at a touch on her arm.
Carl was standing beside the bed with a jar in his hand. "Roll over," he said.
Linda blinked. Edmondo was standing beside the bed, Mousie at its foot. Charlie was sitting on the edge. "What?" she asked blankly.
"Roll over," he repeated. "I'm going to vaseline your asshole."
Linda looked at Charlie. "You're not going to let him do that-that ugly thing to me, are you?" she pleaded.
"Why not?" Charlie replied lazily. "It's his thing. He likes to do it."
"But-" Linda sat up in panic. "You mustn't let him! It's indecent! It's-it's dangerous! I might get cancer! Please, please don't let him do it to me!"
"Look, in our crowd everyone does his own thing," Charlie answered her. "It's not the end of the world, sugar. Plenty of assholes get stretched without no one readin' about it in the paper."
"But you were just s-so n-nice to me!" Linda's voice trembled. "And n-now you're being h-hate-ful! Please, I'm afraid! Please don't let him! I'll do anything-"
"You're right you'll do anything, startin' right now," Carl interrupted her. "Come up here, Mousie, an' help me hold her." He addressed Linda again. "Now are you gonna roll over on your belly or am I gonna have to punch you around?"
For a long moment Linda stared at Carl's sneering face.
She looked at the others.
Mousie looked interested.
Edmondo looked blase.
Charlie looked impassive.
With a muffled sob, Linda rolled over onto her stomach.
Chapter Viii
Linda tried hard to quell the dread and t fear-stricken sense of misgiving that welled up within her while she listened to Carl unscrew the lid of the jar of vaseline. From her prostrate position on the bed she could see through the cabin window, and she was surprised to see that it was dark outside. The rain still hammered on the cabin roof. Linda hadn't realized that the sexual experiments of the group upon her shrinking flesh had continued for so long.
But bad as almost everything else had been, she was frightened by Carl's pitiless proposal most of all. The thought of anything, no matter how tiny, penetrating her extremely tight anus was enough to give her the shakes. Carl's penis, while not the largest among the boys, was sturdy enough to make her stomach quake at the queasy thought of what was in store for her if she couldn't somehow talk them out of it.
And she was already sure in her heart of hearts it was a lost cause. Charlie's indifference when she had pleaded with him not to permit it had hurt her. Mousie she had expected little from; the boy's lively curiosity precluded his saying no to any proposal in regard to Linda no matter how outrageous. Edmondo was coolly aloof to anything except his own pleasure. And Carl seemed to be actively cruel where all women were concerned.
But Charlie...
Linda didn't quite know why she had expected Charlie to come to her rescue. He had certainly abused her as much as any of the others. Only... only not in the same way. Today, for instance. Why, if it had been just the two of them today, alone, what he had done to her would have been... well, it wouldn't have been too bad at all.
"Crissake, you got enough there to grease the ways for a battleship," Linda heard Charlie say, recalling her to the present. The next second she felt her left buttock grabbed and a greasy gob plastered in between the deep cleft of her hind cheeks. Her thighs tightened beneath her as she instinctively started to roll away, but she checked herself. She already had a bruise on her belly to show that Carl would punch viciously when frustrated.
She forced herself to relax as Carl's rough fingers began to spread the vaseline around her tight buttonhole. The boy still had her buttocks separated so he could see what he was doing. He worked the vaseline around her anus and then began using the same little finger he had previously to force it inside. Linda writhed slowly at the indignity and the renewed finger pressure upon her tight orifice. A rising tide of panic assailed her. Good God, what happened to women who had their bottom-holes forcefully attacked? Did they have to go to the doctor? To the hospital?
"Grease your prick, Carl," Charlie said. "I'll get her ready." He picked up a pillow from the bed. "C'mon," he said to Linda, and walked to the rear cabin wall.
Linda forced herself to crawl from the bed and follow him. Mousie and Edmondo were watching Carl spread vaseline along the length and breadth of his erection. "You're It-helping him do this to me," Linda said in an undertone to Charlie. Her lips were trembling.
"Don't sweat it, sugar," he said airily. "Just do what I tell you an' you won't get hurt." He dropped the pillow on the floor and kicked it against the wall. "Kneel on that an' put your shoulder against the wall. Not your head, or your neck will twist when he starts to shove it into you. Kind of tuck your head down to one side and use your shoulder to brace yourself."
"Oooooh, this is aw-awful!" Linda said despairingly.
"Get down there," Charlie said. "Here he comes."
"N-no!" Linda cried out. "I w-won't!"
"I figured that," Charlie said calmly, and took her arm. "Edmondo, take her other arm."
The swarthy-skinned boy stepped forward, and in seconds Linda felt herself lifted from her feet and forced onto her knees on the pillow with her head against the wall. She battled futilely against the strong hands holding her as Carl dropped down on the pillow behind her, separating her feet so he could kneel between them. "Now isn't that an ass worth punking?" Carl said gloatingly. He moved in behind her plumped-out buttocks, spread them with his hands, and ran his vaselined prong along Linda's cleft.
"No!" she wailed. "No, please! You'll- oooooooh!"
Her horrified exclamation was caused by Carl's placing the tip of his prick against Linda's rectum and shoving hard. Carl lodged the tip and shoved again.
"Nooooooo!" Linda shrieked. "You're split--ting meeeee!"
"You got it in an' you got the angle, Carl," Charlie said. "Bear down on it."
Linda screamed full-throatedly as Carl rammed at her. She could feel her sphincter slowly giving way in what felt like something tearing inside. "Shove back against it an' make it easy on yourself, you stupid cunt!" Carl snarled at her, resting for a moment.
"He's right," Charlie chimed in.
Linda could no more have shoved backward against that iron rod in her entrails than she could have flown. Instead, she tried to butt down the cabin wall with her shoulder in her effort to get away from the agonizing pain in her rear. She howled again when he resumed his plunging at her, although the acutely piercing pain had diminished to a dull aching.
"He's in," Charlie said to Edmondo.
Linda couldn't believe it.. That erection rammed all the way between her hind cheeks into her anus? But she could feel Carl's belly against her bare behind. He began to work his prick in and out of her in short, hard jabs. Linda wept, pleaded, yelled, sobbed, begged, and moaned to no avail. Carl's steady reaming of her distended asshole continued. "God, she's- tight!" Carl panted. "Her buttonhole-is pulling-at my prick-like you wouldn't-believe!" His voice rose hoarsely. "Ahhhhhhhhh Jesus! Too-soon! Too-soon!"
Linda felt his quick-jerking climax as he boiled over inside her expanded rectum. He collapsed along her back as she felt a warm, sticky fluid run from her plugged anus down into her crevice from where it dripped onto her calves. Her shoulder hurt from her constant struggle against the wall. Since Carl's quick come her anus didn't feel quite as full, but the relief was minimal.
She cried out again as he began to pull out of her. He placed his hands on her perspiration-slick waist and used it for leverage to work his way out. The diminished end of his prick emerged from her rectum with a loud popping sound. Linda quivered with relief although her insides still smarted.
"Turn her around," Carl ordered.
Before she realized what was happening, Linda was lifted bodily and swung around so that she was facing Carl. He held out his flaccid whang toward her. "Clean it off," he said. "With your mouth."
Linda thought she might faint. She stared at his penis, dripping with semen and melting vaseline. She strained backward against the arms holding her, but they forced her inexorably forward. Carl grabbed her hair and pulled her face down against his groin. He rubbed her nose in the mingled effluvia of vaseline, semen, and excrement. "Yeah, there's some of your own shit there, too," he said with a grin. "Now clean it off like I told you."
Yanking at her hair, he smeared her face with the leavings on his limp prick. "Open your mouth, damn you!" Carl said harshly, pulling at her hair until Linda thought her head was on fire.
Helplessly she opened her mouth and he crammed his dripping prick into it. Linda gagged, swallowed, gagged again, and tried to expel the prick from her mouth. Carl foiled her by taking her by the ears and pulling her face right into it. "Suck on it!" she heard from above her head as she nearly went out of her mind with pain as he twisted her ears.
She sucked on it, breathing hard and swallowing noisily. The back of her neck ached from her unnatural position. The hands on her arms dug into her flesh.
"You use your teeth an' you'll lose an ear," Carl warned her.
He pulled away from her at last and she would have collapsed except for the restraining hands on her arms which held her in a kneeling position. Charlie and Edmondo raised her and half-led, half-carried her to the bed. Her eyes were dazed, and her tongue kept licking pitifully at the corners of her mouth, trying to remove all traces of what had taken place.
"Man, he was really rough on her, wasn't he?" Mousie said in an awed tone.
"What the hell are you, chicken-livered?" Carl jeered. "That's what they like. All of them."
Charlie and Edmondo sat Linda down on the bed where she stared straight ahead.
"You've got a turn comin' if you can get a hard-on," Charlie reminded Mousie.
"Well, Jesus, I had a hard-on until I watched that." Mousie sounded uncomfortable. "She looks kinda-kinda used up, don't you think?"
Carl laughed. "There's nothing used up about her cunt. Let's see you climb on and make it with her."
Mousie hesitated, then sat down on the bed beside Linda. The younger boy seemed discomfited. He reached out a hand to one of Linda's breasts and played with it gently. He toyed with the nipple which refused to stiffen, but Mousie's slender prick rose up from between his thighs. He looked down at it in almost comical surprise.
"There you are," Carl goaded him. "Let's see you drive the spike."
Mousie stood up and lifted Linda's legs onto the bed. He slid her more into its center and moved in beside her on his knees. He placed his hands on the inside of her thighs and spread them, lowering his belly onto hers.
Linda stared up at the ceiling as she felt this manipulation which seemed to be coming for a long way off. Her parted thighs rested slackly on either side of Mousie's young body as the boy found her still-wet cunt-hole with the tip of his prick and guided it in with hand-action and joggling hips.
She laid immobile as Mousie rose and fell on her stomach. She felt the young prick deep inside her and yet she didn't feel it. Sensation seemed to have been numbed. Linda didn't know what to do with her hands as Mousie grunted and toiled.
And then the boy's skinny behind tried to fling itself in all directions at once as his rabbit-fast hips squirted his seed into Linda. He rested for a moment, breathing heavily, and then withdrew.
"Well, you made it, kid," Charlie said cheerfully.
"Yeah, but it wasn't very good," Mousie said glumly.
"Ask her how her asshole feels," Carl said with a laugh.
"Ahhhhhhh, you're sick!" Mousie announced.
"Who's sick?" Carl flared angrily.
"Each to his own mutton," Edmondo said warningly to Mousie. "That is the rule, no?"
He looked at Charlie. "I think it is time that we left here."
"Yeah," Charlie agreed. He looked at Linda still on her back on the bed. "We got to get her back to the library parkin' lot."
They sorted out the partly-dry clothes in front of the fire. "These look like they were pulled out've my asshole," Charlie grumbled.
"Or hers," Carl said with his mean laugh.
Charlie brought Linda her clothes. They were damp, wrinkled, and shapeless. He had to help her into them. With his fingers he tried to create some order in her hair but gave it up. She sat on the bed again like a mannequin when he left her to pull on his own rumpled clothing.
"We all set?" Mousie called from the cabin door. He seemed anxious to get away.
Edmondo glanced at Linda. "Can she walk?" he asked Charlie.
"Sure she can walk," Carl interjected. "She's just puttin' on."
"We're leavin' now," Charlie said to Linda.
She rose painfully to her feet, took a hesitant step and then another, and walked unsteadily to the door. Mousie was looking outside. "Still rainin'," he said gloomily. "We're gonna get wet all over again just gettin' to her car."
"Put her in the back seat," Charlie said to Edmondo. "I'll drive."
Linda remembered little of the return trip, except that it seemed to take forever. There was a dull, steady ache in her rectum, and her scalp hurt. She felt dispirited and exhausted. She looked around disinterestedly when the car stopped and realized belatedly that Charlie had pulled up beside the boys' car in the parking lot. "You guys go ahead," Charlie said. "I'll see she makes it home."
"Suit yourself," Carl said indifferently.
They ran through the rain to the other car.
Charlie drove Linda's car to her apartment. He helped her out and assisted her up the two flights of stairs. She unlocked her door and turned to say something to him, but he brushed past her and walked inside. When she entered, he slipped on the chain latch. In the living room he walked around, turning on lights.
Linda stood and watched him. "What now?" she asked. She felt no real apprehension for some reason. She had revived slightly from the emotional and physical nadir of the final thirty minutes at the cabin which she was sure now must represent the low point in her life. Automatically she toed off her muddy shoes before stepping upon the living room carpeting.
"I thought I'd give you a hot bath an' get a meal into you," Charlie said easily.
Linda stared. "After-after--" Her lips began to tremble. "-after the b-beastly things you d-did to me, h-how can you p-possibly-"
"You don't get the picture, sugar," he interrupted her. He sat down on Linda's couch and patted the space beside him. "C'mon, sit down here an' I'll explain it to you."
"There is no possible explanation," Linda said stiffly, but after a moment's hesitation she went to the couch and sat down tiredly.
Charlie regarded her with a quizzical look in his light blue eyes and a lazy smile on his handsome face. "How's your asshole?" he inquired.
"You're-you're unspeakable!" Linda blazed in the first genuine anger untouched by fear since she had found the boys in her car in the library parking lot. But her adrenalin seemed too low to maintain her indignant resentment at the intimate referral. "It's sore," she said frankly. "But my knees hurt worse."
"A tub of hot water'll fix 'em both up," Charlie assured her.
He was silent for a moment, and Linda found herself wondering what she was doing here sitting beside this boy who had helped in brutalizing her. "I'm waiting for the explanation," she said. "Although we both know there can't be a rational one."
"That's where you're wrong," Charlie said. "Your problem is you haven't properly sized up this scene we're in." He waved a hand. "I mean the world. There's victims, an' there's victors. An' you're a victim."
"But-but you can't mean-"
"I mean the system is breakin' down. There's no more wrong or right. It's only can you make it work or can't you. The new style is action an' reaction, an' you got to be tough."
"But that's the most nihilistic thing I ever heard!" Linda said warmly. "The world isn't completely a jungle in which-"
"But it is," he cut her off again. "The strong make pacts an' bring down the weak. Like you."
Linda drew a slow breath. "But you don't seem like that," she said. "Sometimes," she groped for words. "Suppose Carl walked in my door right now and wanted to-wanted to hurt me again? What would you do?"
"I'd help him," Charlie said steadily.
And looking at the light blue eyes, Linda knew he would.
"I wasn't put here to help with your salvation," Charlie went on. "You got to work out your own. I'm not mad at you. Hell, I even like you. You're a really sweet fuck. You're even kind of cute in your way. But I made a pact with the others. An' that way we're sure of all gettin' what we want." He rose to his feet. "I'll run the tub. Shuck your duds an' we'll pop you in to soak while I'm fixin' us a bite to eat."
Linda quickly placed a hand on his arm. "Charlie," she said carefully, and paused. "I'm tired. I hurt. I'm-I'm just naturally unraveled. Could you-would you give me a break tonight and-and a chance to get my second wind?" She somehow felt sure that he would, now that he wasn't running with the wolf pack.
And she was right. "Sure," he said easily. "S'pose I come by tomorrow night?"
"That will be fine," she lied. It wouldn't be fine, but what could she say or do?
She went with him to the door, and they said goodnight.
She stood in the hallway, musing, when Charlie left.
She thought back over the events of the late afternoon and early evening, and a quick shudder rippled through her. The base of her spine felt chilly. It had been a dreadful experience. How was she ever going to be able to extricate herself from this incredible situation? And yet at times ... at times...
Linda gave herself a little shake. Stop being so forgiving, she told herself briskly. She was on the verge of becoming maudlin. She started to leave the hallway to draw a tub of hot water when there was a knock at the apartment door. She turned to look at it apprehensively. Had Charlie changed his mind? Or perhaps he'd left something behind?
She took off the chain latch and opened the door. "Yes, Char-" she started to say, and the words died in her throat.
It wasn't Charlie.
It was the janitor, Walter Cummings, who stood there beaming at her. "Hi, there, Miss Linda," he said cheerfully with what seemed to her more assurance than his usual shyness warranted. "I thought you might like-"
"I've had a bad day, Walter," she said rapidly. "If you want to talk, why don't you come by tomorrow afternoon? I'll be feeling much better then."
He looked troubled. "Well, if it was jus' me, Miss Linda, there'd be no problem, but there's my friend-"
Beyond his bulk Linda could see a separate shadow on the corridor wall. Her hand crept to her throat. "Your-friend?" she said unsteadily.
"Yeah. My ol' Army buddy, just passin' through town. An' he's on'y gonna be here tonight." He blinked at her earnestly. "An' I been tellin' him how nice you was to me."
Linda's larynx felt petrified. The janitor pushed past her and entered the apartment. Immediately the second man, a stocky, ill-kempt type with the sour smell of cheap wine about him, entered also and closed the door. Linda felt a deep-welling scream rising from the depths of her esophagus, but she couldn't get it past the limp in her throat.
"It'll on'y take a few minutes, Miss Linda," the janitor assured her. He began to remove his clothing. "My friend here didn' believe me when I told him how nice you was to me, so I told him I'd show him."
"Walter!" Linda choked out the name. The janitor paused with his pants half down. "We can't-I can't-you mustn't expect-just because of what happened with-with-"
"Oh, I never told a soul about them!" he said quickly. "But that had nothin' to do with us." He started to push the pants down, then stopped. "Did it?"
She didn't try to answer directly. "Can't you please come by tomorrow and we'll talk this over, Walter? Please?" Dear God, if she offended him, and he ever started talking about what he'd seen. And participated in...
He smiled at her helplessly. "If it was any other night," he said slowly. "You see how it is? Sure you do. My friend'll be gone tomorrow." He disposed of the work pants and stripped off his shorts.
Linda swallowed hard as she glimpsed the hammer between his legs. She hadn't felt as helpless with the boys. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave, Walter," she said more sharply than she intended.
He looked hurt. "But I can't leave," he said in a pleading tone. "I told my friend I'd show him, see?" He approached her and put his hands on her shoulders. She shivered at the strength in them. "Jus' slip out've your things, okay?" She recoiled in horror as he stopped and took hold of the hem of her dress and started to pull it up over her head.
"Walter!"
The hitherto silent second man stepped forward. "I'll help you with her, Walt," he said. His voice was alcohol-hoarsened.
"You don't need to help me," the janitor said patiently in the manner of someone explaining something to two stupid children. Linda felt herself included. "Miss Linda is my friend, see? She doesn't call me ugly. She's nice to me. We've got a secret, too. Friends have secrets, don't they?" A slow smile parted the thick lips. The big hands whisked the dress off over Linda's head. "Your clothes is all wet, Miss Linda," the hulking figure told her seriously. "You ought to take better care of yourself."
Linda stood numbly as the fumbling hands undressed her. Why couldn't she think what to do, she asked herself frantically? She could scream, rant, rave, have hysterics ... but would Walter Cummings then feel disowned by his friend and under no further obligation to hold his tongue in regard to their mutual "secret"?
Linda's head whirled. Her slip was gone, and her bra, and the big hands were fumbling at the waistband of her panties. "Pretty," Walter Cummings said slaveringly. "Soooooo pretty." He pulled the panties down her plump thighs.
Linda felt like a mechanical toy with its spring wound down. She felt herself half-carried, half-led into the bedroom while she tried to think what to do. But wasn't the damage done already while she'd been vacillating? That- that wind with his cheap, cynical grin-pray God he left town tomorrow!
Walter Cummings sat down on the bed and stood Linda between his knees. "Pretty," he whispered, kissing a jutting breast. "Pretty." His thick lips fumbled with a perky nipple.
Linda would have collapsed in front of him except that he suddenly leaned backward on the bed and drew her down on top of him. She wriggled furiously, conscious of her wide-flaring nude hind cheeks exposed to the gaze of the wino, but Walter held her firmly. Not with force, but just as if it was the most natural thing in the world that Linda should be lying on his bare belly with his thick rod jutting up into her thigh-juncture. "Put it in for me," he whispered to her. "Put in for me like you did the last time."
"Oh, God!" Linda moaned as the big hands lifted her by the buttocks and re-settled her on his enormous tool. By accident he hit the slot exactly, and he gave a satisfied grunt as Linda felt her pierced quim slowly begin to slip downward and engulf his turgid prong. "Walter!"
"I love it, too," he said complacently. He played with her hind cheeks, then lilted his head inquiringly. "You got grease all over your seat, Miss Linda."
The vaseline, she thought despairingly.
"Grease?" the wino said alertly. He moved closer to the bed as the janitor began to move up and down under Linda. Hot sparks flowered in her interior as his big prick dilated her interior and touched all her sensitive places. She quivered as she felt another hand on her nude bottom and a hard finger probed inquiringly at her sore anus. The wino brought his finger up within a few inches of his bleary eyes and studied it intently. There was a short laugh. "You know what that grease is, Walt?" the wino inquired. "Someone's been punkin' your girl friend in the ass."
"Well, maybe she likes it that way," the janitor said loyally. He jogged up and down, holding Linda's hips, and bursts of shooting stars filled her clutching cranny. She could hear her own rapid breathing. "You like it that way, Miss Linda?"
"N-no!" Linda gasped. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the wino stripping off his clothes. "No, no, no, no! What's he doing? Don't let him come near me! Don't-"
The wino picked up their blended legs and centered them in the bed which creaked as he climbed onto it. "You're doin' fine, Walt," he encouraged the janitor. "Don't mind me."
He pushed Linda firmly down onto the janitor's thick prong, and she gasped as her breasts were flattened against his hard chest. His pubic bone was grinding painfully into her lower stomach. Linda shrieked as she felt another pair of hands on her bare buttocks which were kneaded, hard fingers jabbing at the soft flesh. She felt her quivering ass cheeks being separated, the soft white moons being cruelly spread apart. She tried to clench her hind cheeks together, but the fingers, tenaciously strong, grasped them in an iron grip.
"Walter!" she screamed.
"I like it, too," the janitor whispered, still sliding her up and down on his greased pole.
A finger stabbed at the dark little mouth of Linda's sore rectum. She cried out again as the little reddish ring, crinkly brown, resisted the attempted entrance. The finger slipped in and twisted, hurting her terribly. She moaned, then gasped when a crushing weight was draped on her back, sandwiching her against the janitor beneath her, and another prick, already oozing moisture against her buttocks pressed against the rubbery opening of her asshole.
A hard shove from above, and the head was lodged. Linda whimpered, distracted nearly out of her mind by what was taking place in her boiling cunt under Walter's steady fucking of her. Another shove as the prick was driven into her most sensitive area. She howled huskily as it was forced inch by inch into her tortuously stretched rectal area. There was no one to listen now. Walter Cummings was on the verge of coming and was crashing into her cunt mightily, shoving her upward into the boring prick that was reaming her ass.
It hurt twice as much as before, but not for as long, she noted dimly after a moment. The crucifying penis in her back passage seemed to tear right through and meld with her vertebra. She could feel, through the thin wall of flesh separating vagina and rectum, the thick prick of Walter Cummings brushing against the smaller one of the sodomizer on her back. Tears spurted down her face at the pain and the degradation, but she seemed to have lost her voice..
The man on her back began a lumbering rhythm that roughly matched the one in her cunt. Linda lay numbly between the two pricks which were plowing far into her from both sides. The pain eased still more but her self-loathing increased. Her sphincter relaxed, and she felt quick little eddies of pleasure and was amazed that she was unable to tell if they came from cunt or asshole.
Instinctively she began to move herself, caught herself in horror, but at once resumed. She... was... getting ... so... hot! The condition of her behind felt almost like after Carole's spanking of it when she'd come involuntarily. "Ohh!" she gasped. "I'm-oooh!- you're-ohhhhhhh!"
The depravity of her situation seemed to feed her suddenly masochistic sense of abandonment. Her body bobbed up and down, squirming madly. She tossed in a total sexual frenzy as Walter Cummings bellowed like a bull and came with tremendous thrusts of his jetting prick into her quivering cunt-sheath. Linda felt the quick, traitorous tickle in her own entrails as the man on her back grunted savagely and thrust and thrust and thrust into her sore but somehow eager rectum. The wino came with a burst, and she felt his flooding sperm oozing out her clenched anus and running down her thighs.
Linda yelped hoarsely as she felt her own violent come which wrenched her between the two sweat-sticky bodies. Half-senseless with the excess of her wildly stimulated emotions, she came to only when another rending pain wrenched her as the wino pulled his prick out of her asshole with a loud popping sound as her secret flesh clung tightly to the intruder.
Then the janitor lifted her up off himself, and she collapsed on the bed.
She heard them whispering together, the wino urging something, and the janitor saying no firmly.
She didn't even care what it was that was under discussion.
She felt totally drained, totally used, totally ashamed.
Half-unconscious again, she sensed Walter Cummings leaning down over her. "You seem tuckered," she heard his anxious voice, "so we'll be leavin' now, Miss Linda. Thanks for bein' so nice to us."
She didn't really believe it, but they left.
She heard the apartment door close.
Throbbing pain in her interior blended with a sweet sense of easement.
She sighed and rolled over on her back, winced, and rolled back onto her side. Her cunt was sore from the janitor's tremendous prodding of it, and certainly her rectum was sore. But she felt almost fulfilled.
She rolled off the bed and started painfully for the bathroom.
En route she thought of Charlie with his handsome face and light blue eyes, and she stopped short.
Charlie would be coming to her apartment tomorrow night. Unless she stopped him. She stared at the far wall, chewing on her lower lip. It was shameful beyond words to express, but the thought of his hard young body excited her even at this moment. She should keep him from coming. Definitely she should keep him from coming tomorrow night.
She sighed deeply and resumed her interrupted progress to the bathroom.
Of course if Charlie came to the door and pushed his way inside...
