Penny knew her upbringing had been unusual-her parents had given her a very explicit course in sex education-but she thought they had been merely expressing their love for her. And besides, it had been fun! When she finally learned the truth, and the real reason for all the orgies her parents held, it was too late for her to escape from the intricate web that Charley Mathews had woven. She was his property now, and she would perform her specialty whenever Charley demanded it of her-or suffer the consequences!
CHAPTER ONE
When Charley arrived that blustery November afternoon, only Carrie, his wife, was with him. No one else. Twilight was sweeping down as he marched into the large, old house near Millinocket and spurred Oscar, the major-domo, into action. He wanted everything in final order, drinks on hand, a meal preparing. His friends would soon be there.
We knew his friends. Most of them would have been there before, and those that hadn't wouldn't be strange. He chose his friends to help him pluck his victims and obey him at work and play. His generous hand kept their loyalty, and when that failed he had other ways to keep them, or kill them.
We knew his friends. They were either men happy to please a master, kiss the hand and dodge the blows, or disgruntled men afraid to speak or stir, except when told, much less to leave.
As they arrived we served them drinks, talked, and learned their names, though little else, for they all watched their tongues. They were all relaxing, unwinding from the long drive, drinking, talking quietly. All but one, who sat alone, nursing his drink, elbow in hand, huddled on a hassock, glaring fearfully at the rest. Only he didn't pat and prod and grope through our scanty underwear as we moved amongst them all. He showed no interest in the merchandise.
Intrigued, I dodged hands and arms to reach him and tried to draw him out, but failed. Moodily, he answered only in grunting monosyllables, saying nothing. I wanted to persist, but Oscar called me to tend to newcomers. I had to shrug and go, to hang their coats and endure their capricious advances while I showed them to the bar.
Twelve men filled the room when all had come, and quiet fell when Charley stood, Carrie keeping her seat beside him, and raised his glass.
"Is everybody settled? Well then, here's to a glorious weekend! Drink up! There's plenty more." He set down his glass and leaned, relaxed, against the end of the couch.
"We've only got one little piece of business to take care of this weekend, but I think we can leave figuring out what to do about Hank until tomorrow." Grimly, he smiled and waved in the direction of the quiet fellow on the hassock, who silently bared his teeth in reply. I wondered what he had done to so fear for himself. What would they do about him, or to him? The answer to that had to wait, though. Charley went on with his welcoming speech.
"You haven't all been here before, so I'd just like to say that nothing here is really free. I run it on a real old system; the Indians used to use something like it, but they never had it so good. The best way to explain it is to show you, so ... Penny, come over here, will you?"
He beckoned, I obeyed. As I approached he unfastened his pants, letting them fall about his ankles. Coarse laughter rose as the others realized what was coming.
"All these girls owe me rent on their fine rooms, but I can't collect it all. I have to pick and choose; the payment takes so much out of a guy, it's hard to believe he's collecting." Laughter. "This kid's got a real hot specialty. I give her a room, and she gives me her specialty. Come on, Penny, get down there. Show these jokers how good you are."
I knelt to pull his half-turgid organ from his shorts and fondle it carefully, stroking and kissing it to heated rigidity. While he and all his cronies looked on, I took it into my mouth and brought all my skills to bear.
The humiliation of being forced to perform before so many strangers scorched my cheeks. He had done similar things before, but in front of my family and people I'd known, and before I'd known his evil so well. That seemed as long ago and as far away as what happens in history books. But now I was fixed inescapably in the present-though a certain feeling of distance extended itself from my memory of the past, so that I didn't feel truly involved. My mind had wandered and I'd found myself, on first feeling his nubbly passage through my teeth, sorely tempted to clamp down upon him. Only fear of what his friends would do forced my attention back to my task.
His soul-felt groan of completion as he flooded my mouth with his hot, salty slime signaled that my distraction hadn't interfered. I was as able as ever to please him in my special way.
I swallowed his copious emission, but kept up my suction till he pushed me away. "Enough. Enough. Ahhh, that takes care of your rent all right. You like the looks of my system, fellows? I like to call it a system of bawder. Maybe you can see why." He sighed again, and stooped to retrieve his pants.
One evening, when I was nine years old, my stepfather took me on his knee and said, "Penny, honey, haven't you ever wondered what your Mama and I do when our friends come and you are sent off to play, or to stay overnight with a friend? You've never asked, but haven't you wanted to?"
"Oh, yes, Papa! Sometimes I hear funny noises when I come back early, or before I've gone very far."
"Well, Penny, I think that it's about time you learned how we have fun. You like to play with your dolls now, but before too awfully long you may want to join us." His voice had a peculiar flat quality, like an inexperienced actor making up a scene as he went along.
I smiled then, so he wouldn't feel discouraged, and he cried out, "Harriet!"
My mother replied from the kitchen, "Just a second, John. I'm almost done with the dishes."
"All right, but hurry it up, will you?"
He then asked me to turn on his lap till I was facing him, and began to unbutton his trousers, saying, "Do you know what I have here, Penny? It is the source of your mother's greatest pleasure and the same kind of tool that forged you on the anvil of her womb." Upon this he revealed his mighty penis, fully eight inches long and an inch and a half thick, and, though I have seen both larger and smaller since, I think his was of the size best suited for a woman's pleasure.
This was, however, the first male organ I had ever seen, and I didn't really know what to make of it. I could see the power inherent in its structure, and it was .plainly a penetrating instrument, but, beyond a vague idea about urination, I knew nothing of its purpose.
"Here," he said, "take it in your hand and feel it. Doesn't that make you want to see what it's for?"
"John! What are you doing?" cried my mother as she came into the room at last.
"Only beginning to initiate Penny into the mysteries of love, my dear. Don't you think it's about time?" he accompanied this with a significantly raised eyebrow and twist of the lip. "It won't be long before she'll be able to join us at parties."
"Are you sure she's ready for it, John? She might tell...." Mama looked worried, scared.
"Darling, look at her face. Doesn't she look just fascinated by my prick? I don't think she'll tell anyone about her little lessons. If she did, she wouldn't get any more, and she's going to enjoy these an awful lot." He seemed to be speaking at least partly for my benefit, for he added, "Do you understand, Penny?"
"Oh, yes, Papa. I'll never tell anyone. Just looking at your thing there makes me feel all quivery inside. I think your lessons will be so much fun." And I leaned forward and hugged him as little girls are won't to do, pressing his engorged prick between our bellies. This made him groan and say that I should get undressed, the better to receive my instruction.
While I was doing this, he asked Mama to do so too, as he stripped himself. My mother's naked appearance did not surprise me, as I had seen her nude many times before, but his engrossed me.
His was the first male nudity I ever saw, and far from the most unpleasant. His active life, running his gas station and small farm, had kept his body trim, and though it sagged a bit here and there, it showed none of the bags and pouches of flesh I was to meet later, and had even then seen often on the beach.
When we were all naked, Papa took me on his lap again so that I faced him and, while my mother seated herself in a chair nearby to watch, pointed with his finger at my small hairless slit and asked me if I knew what that was for. I had to reply that I had no idea, but that I was quite willing to be shown.
He then began to rub with his fingertip above and around it, saying, "Your mother has a slit just like this, and that's where I put my prick when we want to have fun. You can see that there is only room in yours now for my finger, but we'll fix that soon. How does that feel?"
He gently inserted his finger until he met some obstruction, which made me hurt as he pressed upon it.
"Oh, Papa, that felt wonderful, but it hurts when you press like that. What is it? Ow! Oooo! Ow! What'd you do?"
"It's all right, Penny. That thing that blocked my finger was your hymen, a thing that always has to be broken before a girl can get any fun out of her lessons. Look, see my finger? It's bloody from doing that, now, but you'll be all right very soon, and it'll be a lot better the next time."
After a comforting cuddle, he set me down, saying he didn't want to go any further with my lessons then; he didn't want to hurt me any more. Instead, he said he would demonstrate with Mama. I curled up in a chair to watch, the pain having diminished enough to forget, as he arose and took my mother by the hand to lead her to the couch.
As she lay down, he bent to kiss her, his hands going to her full breasts, softly kneading as their mouths ground together. When he drew his mouth from hers, his tongue flowed smoothly out from between her lips, closely followed by her own, dallied a moment and tripped daintily down the column of her throat to settle on a nipple.
She accepted his loving touch readily, her moans emerging in time with the butterfly tastings of his lips and tongue. She began to writhe languorously to his lascivious nipple-mouthings, presenting her flesh to his lips as it yearned for kisses. She grasped his member as his hand stroked down her side to grip a hip while the other caressed the heavy bush surrounding her gaping vaginal chamber, so different from my own little slit. The pink blush of passion was revealed as she spread her thighs to allow his hand more intimate freedoms, became bedewed and glistening as he shifted his position to bring his lips to the pulsing target. Her breathing labored, grew harsh, as he found the twig of flesh guarding the approach to her joy and began to kiss and suck it.
She moaned aloud, tossing wildly as she gripped his head and pressed it to her, thighs clamping about his ears. He kept on till she stiffened, and, trembling, uttered a low wailing cry.
Hesitating only to cast one quick glance at me, Mama tugged him down beside her by his stiff-standing prick and rose to straddle him, saying, in a voice throaty with her passion, "You saw what he just did. Now I'll show you one way to make a man happy."
She bent over my stepfather, enfolding his organ with hands and lips, sliding her mouth over the bulbous end, moving it in and out of her mouth. I could see the pulsating motion of her cheeks as she sucked, and I leaned eagerly forward to watch him moan with delight as his muscles clenched and he gripped her by the ears, trying to hasten her movements. But rather than give him the release he so plainly longed for, she drew away and lay down beside him again, throwing one leg over his hip, working the other between his thighs.
With their legs toward me I could see his moist anvil-pounder as it approached her gaping nether mouth and was thrust within by their mutual efforts. Their ensuing plunges and cries of joy excited me so much that I tried to copy them, thrusting a finger within my slit, finding the immature nubbin of flesh, rubbing it, teasing it, trying to find some pleasure to shadow theirs. But, where they soon spasmed and cried out their attainment of joy, immediately passing into a faint, I was still too tender and sore.
My parents showed no sign of coming out of their faint, so I left my seat and moved closer. A familiar, musky scent first assailed my nostrils, one that often permeated the house after their friends had left. The sheen of their sweat caught my eye, the lights of the room reflected in the little beads of moisture standing up from skin that gleamed wetly like plastic. Dead to the world they lay, their panting breaths resembling the chugs of some fading locomotive.
I picked up my clothes and went to my room, tired. I drifted off to sleep pouting with a certain resentment of my tender years, that would keep me from my father's arms for so long.
For the next few days I was a little sore from the bursting of my hymen, so no new lessons were proposed, but by the end of the week Papa thought I might be ready for another. After we had both undressed, he took me on his lap again and tickled my hairless slit while I handled his prick-to get used to it, as he said.
After a little teasing he lifted me up and poised me over his member while Mama parted my tender lips and guided its great head between them. He lowered me then till I could feel him pressing hard against my soft tissues. I was too tight, though, for him to effect an entrance, and he had to be content with bouncing me gently upon it. Even though he could only, at best, get about half the head of it into me, it hurt.
Finally, with a sigh, he lifted me down onto his lap and said, "Well, we can't get very far tonight, that's for sure. We'll just have to keep trying, and stretch you a little bit every night, until it isn't so small any more, eh?" I agreed, and he set me down, turning to my mother to say, "I think she'll turn into a pretty capable girl, don't you?"
"I imagine so, though she would anyway, probably, without any of this teaching." She sounded bitter, disapproving. I didn't know then why she would put up with it.
Hoping to forestall an argument, I knelt in front of my stepfather and said, "Papa, will you let me try to do what Mama did before?"
He looked a little startled, but answered, "If you think you can manage it, go ahead." Mama was quiet, though I could see that she didn't like the idea.
I took his prick in my hands and bent my head to kiss it before opening my small mouth as widely as I could to try to take it in. Alas, it was just too large. I had to content myself with kissing it, laving it with my tongue, sucking on the knob as at a candied apple. My poor efforts seemed to please him greatly though, even if I couldn't hope to match my mother.
"Oh, that's good," he groaned. "Oh, Harriet, do you see what she's doing? It's as good ad you can do, I swear it! Ahhh!" And my mouth was suddenly filled with his viscid spunk, the first, though not the last, I was to taste. Its sweet-salt flavor was wholly new to me, and strange. It took years to be sure I liked it.
When my mother saw what I had done, she was far from pleased. "You scamp," she cried. "You've robbed me of him! He's only good for one shot a night, and you'd better remember that in the future!" She was furious. She thrust me away from my stepfather, and the last I saw, as I fled her wrath, were her vain efforts to arouse him again.
The next day Papa sheepishly admonished me never to let things go so far with him again.
Throughout the next three years, Mama never again had reason to complain on that score. I heeded their warnings religiously. Always, after one of the daily stretching sessions, I would serve Papa as he liked so much, preparing him for my mother's attentive demands. I improved my skills, and stretched, and strained to grow, but never again did I drain him. I wanted to, I ached to, but my mother was always waiting, eager and ready to push me aside if I seemed to be getting too greedy.
Neither did they allow me to remain when their friends came for one of their frequent visits. I wasn't ready. At the age of twelve, I was only beginning to show the first light down in my crotch, around my cunt, as I had learned it was called, and I was only able to contain about half of Papa's prick.
One day, when the guests had arrived and my stepfather had driven me to a girl friend's house to play till it was safe to come home again, I didn't enter her house, but set out immediately across the fields toward my own house, all afire with childish voyeurism.
It was a fine July day, all hot and sunny, and everyone was out in the back yard, shielded by a tall hedge from prying eyes. As I crept up to one of my favorite vantage points, a hole in the hedge, worn by years of children and pets, my hand fell upon a heel.
Someone was already there! He jumped and scrambled to his feet when I touched him, and I found myself blushing under the eyes of one of my schoolmates, a short, thin boy named Bill, with a sharp-edged, shallow face.
His eyes were bright, his mouth half-open with alarm at his discovery or excitement at the scene before him. I couldn't tell, until I looked at his crotch and saw the bulging cloth.
"Th-they've started air-ready, h-huh?" I stuttered. That wasn't the right way to start. I should be indignant, furious at finding him snooping around my house, spying on my family. I tried again. "What are you doing here? Who do you think you are to come sneaking around here like this?" I had drawn myself up in my best imitation of Mrs. Maury, the fifth grade teacher at our school.
He must have been nervous himself. His eyes were shifting about like two flies in a bottle as he whispered in reply, "I heard some noises when I was going by, and I wanted to find out what was up. They've started all right, but how the hell did you know what they would be doing?"
"I bet you've been spying on us all summer. How else could you've found out about this?"
"I have not! I was just walking by, like I said, and heard the noise."
"Hah! People don't just go walking by in the middle of a field." He squirmed. He didn't want to say what he had been doing. He wasn't up to any good, even if he wasn't spying, I thought. Then, as he turned half away from me, I saw the slingshot in his hip pocket.
I pointed. "There! I bet you were hunting rabbits or something. And I know it's not the season for that. You can only hunt them in the winter, and you know it. I'm going to tell the game warden!" I crowed. I knew how to get rid of him now.
"If you do, I'll tell everybody what I saw down there." He pointed through the hedge. "Then you'll get kicked out of school and you'll have to move and go away, and everybody'll say you're nasty people, and you won't have any friends. I know what happens to people that do things like that. My father told me."
He seemed pretty sure of himself. I flushed, able only to say, "Okay, I won't tell on you, but you'd better go away now. And don't come back!"
He turned, began to walk away, but stopped to whisper hoarsely, "I've seen enough anyway."
I couldn't watch for long after that. I stayed only long enough to see that they weren't really doing anything new, and, even though it was as fascinating as ever, I had no heart for it. Bill was on my mind. Would he keep the secret? I could only trust in his fear of the game warden, and maybe he would want to come back and see more. I didn't believe his last comment. It was too much the sour grapes kind of thing kids say when they have to give something up.
A few weeks later I was back at my hole in the hedge, feasting my wondering, curious eyes on the grown-up antics before me. I was squirming with excitement, eager to bring a finger into play and vibrate the tension in me to an aching crest, releasing it at last. I was delighting in the anticipation, my attention wholly on the backyard scene in front of me, and just beginning to shift my position to make the fingering easy.
"At it again, are they?"
I was distracted. "They often are. They've even promised me I can join them when I'm old enough." I seemed to be answering my own thoughts, but suddenly I jumped, startled, realizing. "Bill! What are you doing here? I thought you were going to stay away!"
"Oh, I thought I'd drop around and see if anything was happening. It's quite a show, you know. And I don't have that slingshot with me this time, so you can't tell the game warden on me. No excuse." He grinned. He seemed to think he had me in a bind now.
"I can still tell him about the last time!"
"He wouldn't believe you. No evidence. You can't do a thing to me now." He gloated. He was going to enjoy the show this time.
"Well, you better not tell anyway, or I'll say you did the same thing to me, and then you'll get in just as much trouble as me and my parents." I was panicky. How could a twelve-year-old girl deal with a threat like this?
A sly look crept across his face. "You shouldn't have to lie, you know. I'm pretty turned on already, just from the little bit I've seen so far, and I bet you're even more turned on. I bet you even came out here to get all excited that way." He was right, but what could I say? "Wouldn't it be a lot better if we really did it too?"
I blushed, though he really didn't surprise me. I'd expected him to think of that sooner or later. Now that he had, I found myself warming, beginning to tingle at the prospect. My father's lessons left me awfully frustrated, and my fingers were never enough. I was receptive, then, to any man who would proposition me. Even an unattractive creature like Bill could make me want him with only a few words.
He took me by the hand and pulled me down. "Come on, Penny, let's watch. You can make up your mind later."
Unexpectedly, consideration. He must have noticed my ambivalence, though I would never have expected it, and I'm still sure he had no idea of my reasons.
Nevertheless, I followed him down, stretched out upon my belly, side pressing against him as we watched the grassy lovemaking before us.
For an hour we watched the jumble of bodies weaving paths of lust between each other, collapsing, rising, collapsing again. There were only eight people there, but it seemed like many more.
Their action never seemed to end, but kept on and on.
My excitement grew, reaching epic proportions. I could tell by the twitching as Bill sought to ease the weight upon his bulging organ that it was getting to him too.
I paid him little attention when he rolled up on his side and pressured his front against me. I was engrossed in the primal scene.
My burning lust suddenly flared, tissues swelling to exude their slippery fluids. I spread my thighs to ease the sudden growth of tension, and gasped at a sudden fiery thrust that pierced me to the quick. I started, turned, found his hand ensconced between my legs, thumb massaging my clitoris, a finger inserted deeply, goosing me up to an ecstatic agony.
His finger spread the tangled hairs, smoothed the wrinkled folds to stroke me to a panting moan, drive me to reach out for his young and bulging manhood. I grasped and squeezed. He groaned in sudden pain. The pressure was too much. He drew away and dropped his pants, fell to the ground again, though on me, not beside me this time.
His wildly flailing organ soon found the entrance to my grotto, followed the un-christened path to the limits of his reach, and began to pound away. He didn't really seem to care about my pleasure, as my stepfather did about my mother's, but only for his own. As soon as I had provoked his passion, he could wait no longer, but immediately began to satisfy his lust.
It was over all too soon for me, though he seemed quite satisfied as he pulled his clothes together again. He was smug, laid at last, though at the same time he looked a little nervous, as if he were afraid I would scream at any moment, claim revenge for his liberties. He didn't believe that I had wanted it as much as he, even though I hadn't really cared who he was.
"There, now you won't have to lie if you tell on me. I won't tell, though, 'cause I want to come back and watch some more. And you better tell me when they're doing it, or I will tell. And I'm not afraid of you telling on me either. My Dad runs around all the time, and he says I'm a chip off the old block. He won't do anything to me if you tell. He'll think it's great. You just try it and see."
He had really worked himself up about it. He was sure I would want to get him in trouble.
"Don't worry, Bill. I won't tell. And I'll let you know when they're having another party." I was sad.
"What?" He'd expected anything but that. He didn't know how to handle it, hesitated, turned and left.
When he was out of sight, I lay down to sob quietly, dismayed by his reaction, knowing I would want him again. I didn't like him, but he was the only one I knew who would dare do what we had done. I could hope to get past his callousness, teach him to make love the way my parents did, let me share my mother's heights.
I didn't want to tell my parents about Bill. I knew they would worry. After all, if he were to tell, they would have to stop inviting their friends or move. However, since he kept coming around to make love and spy on their revels, and since the stretching exercises continued throughout this time and showed greater progress than ever before, I had to tell Papa about Bill and his threat. He was awfully upset, until I convinced him I could handle Bill, as I had been doing, though I didn't enjoy it much.
Bill wasn't as hurried on his later visits. He took more time, and I was able to teach him to arouse me, though not wholly. Always, as soon as I would admit him, he would surge on, carrying himself to completion long before me. The only reason he could see for foreplay was to get me horny enough to let him bang away.
Once in a while I could provoke him into a second bout, and only then did I ever reach a climax, though it was feeble compared to what I'd seen in my mother. I worried that I wasn't complete in some unknown way, though I knew I was still young and had many years before me in which things could change.
I put up with Bill till the end of that summer, always hoping that he would improve, or that I would, that he would learn patience and a gentle touch, that I would learn to respond fully. Neither of us changed, though, and I think we were both happy when school started and our meetings had to end.
Papa calmed down a little when Bill didn't try to ask me for dates, though we both wondered why. When he didn't come around to see me in the spring, when orgies were once again possible outdoors, we both wondered, but a few discreet questions revealed that he had found a new girl friend. I hoped she appreciated his talents, such as they were, more than I had, and would keep him away from me. I was glad he had no time for me.
CHAPTER TWO
That June I turned thirteen and had my first period. Mama explained that it was the price of a woman's joys and the mark of her maternal capability. It took me a long time to become resigned to it, though it helped to think that Mama was right and now I would be able to find some kind of fulfillment. Maybe this was the missing element, the lack of which I had felt with Bill.
Triumph accompanied the curse, though, and lightened the new burden. Two things came together one night as I cuddled between my parents on the couch.
I was fondling my stepfather's half-turgid member as we talked. It was so much smaller in this condition that I thought it would fit my mouth much better, and so I bent my head to his lap and sucked it in between my lips, farther indeed than it had ever been before. My tongue found its soft and nubbly consistency intriguing, the loose end of the foreskin rather like a wad of chewing gum slipping around between my tongue and teeth, the veins pulsing gently, but I wasn't able to enjoy it for long. As I toyed with it, it began to grow, swelling to fill my jaws till I nearly choked. But as it grew, I was able to find a position of my mouth, an angle of my jaws, that held it comfortably, a knack that has ever since remained with me.
My tongue twined round him, caressing the head and its encircling ridge, probing the miniature slit that tipped it. I slid my lip-shrouded teeth along his length, massaging him so delightfully that he had to push my head away, exclaiming, "Ah, Penny, that's good, but we can't go on. I'll be no good at all for your mother if we do." For the first time he had felt that tight, warm recess working on him, and his words were painful to us both, for he looked truly anguished at having to stop, and I wanted to go on, to finish my First real meal.
"Don't get impatient, John," said my mother. "She may be getting pretty good, but if you'll just get on with her exercises, I'll take care of you." She didn't look too unhappy at my progress. I think that the sooner the lessons had become unnecessary the happier she would have been.
He laughed. "Don't worry, Harriet. She isn't ready to finish me off yet. She's got a lot of stretching to go."
While he was talking, he drew me over his up-raised tool and held me hovering at its tip, the delicate, grazing touch sending a shudder of delightful anticipation through me. Mama parted my downy lips, guided it into my snug harbor. As I felt it begin to press its way into the channel I wriggled, trying to force my way down upon it.
"I don't know about that, Papa. I feel real big tonight. Maybe I can do it." I smiled, pressed my small breasts against his chest, feeling the rigid tips pressed back into the fleshy mounds, and kissed him lightly on the lips, rotating my hips on his sturdy pivot.
"Not very likely." He hugged me, gripped my hips and snugged me down upon him. "I'm only half way in and it looks like we're stuck."
"Just a minute, Papa." I was beginning to feel the pressures building as my frictions stretched the folds. I felt him lining up with my still unplumbed depths, felt my weight begin to tell. "Just a minute. There, there we go ... Ahhh." I rose, kept my angle, slid down and felt the momentary hesitation pass before my conquering plunge. For the first time I felt him touch bottom.
He groaned as I constricted my muscles in joy at the accomplishment, and my mother exclaimed, dimly heard through the pounding of my blood and the panting of my breath, "She's done it! You're almost out of sight, John!"
Her fingers, as they investigated the extent of our connection, brushed against my engorged nubbin and excited me even further. My responsive squeeze brought another groan from dear Papa, who, loath to quit my snug confines, so much tighter than my mother's, proposed that he reward me for learning my lessons so well by continuing with me to the end.
Mama, thinking perhaps of my earlier experiences with that oaf, Bill, didn't want to agree, but gave in when she saw my effect on her husband.
Hardly waiting for her agreement, I raised myself upon his impaling spear until I hovered at its tip. I hung there a moment, enjoying the quavering thrills shooting up my spine, before relaxing my legs to slide joyfully down its wonderful length, stopped only by the blunt and throbbing impact on my womb.
As Papa gasped, shuddered, and gripped my hips in his delight, my mother tore one of his hands away and pressed it to her bushy nest, crying out, "This turns me on too, you know! At least you can try to make me happy." She threw herself back upon the couch and spread her thighs as widely as they would go, pressing his hand to her all the while.
As I continued to bounce on Papa, his fingers began to work on her, massaging the folds of her labia, dipping into the lubricious fluid of her well, pinching and rolling her clitoris, bending his head, with a sudden furtive look, to kiss my nipple, briefly sucking. I squeezed and bounced and he fell back, his jaw falling open in parallel with Mama's as her eyes glazed in response to his probing fingers.
His frenzy grew; he began to meet my bounces with his own thrusts, finally seizing me with both hands and throwing me down with my head by my mother's knees. He lost his penetrating hold on me only briefly, and, as he thrust again into my depths, his head dipped into Mama's frantically curvetting crotch, seized her with his teeth, changed her sudden leap to an urgent drive against his face with the noisy lapping of his tongue.
I soon had no mind for anything else that was going on, as I felt the. intense burst of pure sensation spreading through my loins. I vaguely felt that I was screaming, and, though the sound seemed doubled, it didn't matter at all to me. I knew only that there was nothing wrong with me.
Our movements stilled then, and it was some minutes before I could move and see again. When I could, I found that both my parents were still in their faint. I lay there, beneath my stepfather, awaiting my chance to get up, enjoying the warm feeling of his engine of joy withdrawing as it shrank and was pressed from the channel of my love by my fading spasms.
I think that Mama must have wanted Papa to herself, for, now that the goal of the years of lessons had been reached, she permitted only a few more sessions. Occasionally I was allowed to carry things to their natural conclusion, and I'm sure Papa would have preferred it more often, but she insisted that too much would be bad for me, since I had had so little experience. She must have conveniently forgotten Bill, because he had given me plenty, and I didn't really think more would hurt me.
Never before had I known such joy. Bill hadn't been large enough or good enough, and Papa was. This deprivation made me very randy. Between the rare exercises and watching them in each other's arms, I was driven to improve my digital technique, and I learned the use of my fingers better than ever.
Mama noticed this, and, hoping perhaps to divert Papa's attentions back on to her as well, suggested that it was time for me to join them with their friends in an orgy. She explained to me that this was an occasion of general abandon, with an opportunity to share the talents of several men and watch them with several women. She promised it would be an educational experience. I think she expected that seeing me in another man's arms would make my stepfather want me and love me less.
Little did she know that I had already watched them in the yard and was pantingly eager to join them. I had told them about Bill, but not about where and when we had met.
Accordingly, it wasn't very long before they invited three couples they knew in Bucksport, about an hour from our small village near the coast of Maine, to come down for a weekend. The week before the event, Papa stocked up on liquor, while Mama prepared several dishes that could be served cold. She didn't want to have to take much time out from the orgy.
I helped as much as I could. It wasn't much, I'm afraid, for I was as nervously expectant as any society debutante before her coming-out ball.
On Friday night we cleaned up the house and spread our extra mattresses on the living room floor with plenty of cushions. Papa explained that this would make us much more comfortable later on. We would be able to just grab someone and lay them right on the floor, without having to go find an empty bed.
After everything had been arranged to satisfy their critical eyes, we went to bed. There wasn't any contact between us, since we all wanted to be fully capable the next day.
The first couple to arrive the next morning was introduced to me as Jim and Sarah Phelps, both of them in their early thirties, a little younger than my parents. Sarah was a lovely redhead with swelling breasts quite plainly unsupported by a bra. She didn't need one; they were firm enough to tent the cloth out over her nipples, the fabric stretched at the tip, leaping the gap to the smooth slopes of the fruity globes. Her thighs were heavy in proportion to the rest of her, though not so heavy as to make her look awkward. She blushed slightly when she learned that I was to be initiated into their circle that weekend. Jim, a slightly heavy man with large pores and a bulbous red nose, looked very interested at that news, and I could see his pants bulge as he looked me over.
My father was pouring drinks for them when the others drove into our driveway. These were Bob and Betsy Jamieson, both in their late twenties and an attractive couple; she was a slight blonde with small breasts and slim thighs, but with a very restless look about her; he was a tall, dark-haired fellow with the strong controlled look of an athlete; and Charles and Carrie Mathews, an older couple, into their forties, with a look of profound boredom about them, as if they had seen nearly everything and only continued to live because it was too much bother not to. I'm sure they took great delight in their few pet activities, but their appearance prepared me for the future to some extent. People so bored with life would need strong games to hold their interest.
Carrie was a mousy haired, heavy woman,-with sagging breasts and stockings and a small paunch overhanging her crotch. He was the image of the corpulent executive-big-gutted, though not gross, wheezing from the exertion of climbing the steps to our door and from too many cigarettes (he was rarely without one in his mouth or hand), and with the red veins showing in his jowly cheeks.
The usual greetings were soon concluded while my stepfather mixed their drinks. As he handed out the glasses, he said, "Penny's old enough and ready to join us. This'll be her first orgy, though I hope it won't be her last. Here's to her future, may it be one full of joyful loves!" Here he raised high his glass, and, as the others followed suit, drank before going on. "In spite of the age difference between her and us, I think it best if this weekend she use all our first names. All right, Penny?"
Call my parents John and Harriet? It seemed strange; in spite of all our intimacies they had always been rather formal with me, but...."All right, John. How about you ... Harriet?"
"I think it's best, dear. But only during the orgy, hear?"
"Hurrah!" cried Charley. "Now we can get down to business. We ain't here for a tea party, you know." He immediately began to shuck his trousers, eagerly hauling his legs from their casings, peeling the shirt from his flabby shoulders.
Harriet, as I'll call her from now on, quickly imitated him, getting to her feet and reaching to the button at the throat of her blouse.
"Yes, let's get comfortable now. It is pretty warm." There was nothing graceful about my mother when she was stripping, but nevertheless the men stared, especially Charley, as he liked to be called. He licked his lips, practically drooling, and paid nearly no attention to the others as they undressed. Harriet may have been more attractive than his wife, Carrie, but she looked like a cow beside the other two.
The best looking one of all was Sarah Phelps, her well rounded ornaments riding high on her chest, released from the weight of the cloth, tips standing perkily forth, lyric hips framing a well-furred love nest, a jutting invitation presented to the room as she self-consciously posed her body, summoning the spotlight to drown the shadows of shame, or so I thought at the time. I had been looking forward to this orgy. I had expected to find what I had been promised: lots of fun. But now that I had seen the people and their faces, heard their words, I was beginning to sense a tragedy behind the party. There was a sense of desperation in the air, and everyone was trying to prove something.
Sarah didn't seem to be any too happy with the situation. She plainly wanted to be someplace else, perhaps with Bob. She was eyeing him blatantly, though she wasn't alone. He was easily the most handsome man there, but I could see that she would get him. He was eyeing her too.
My father, or John, probably ran a close second to Bob, though it's hard for me to say, I loved him so dearly. He was clearly better looking than Charley, who would have closely resembled a naked garden slug if it hadn't been for his tan, so deep and dark it must have come from a sun lamp. A Maine summer's sun isn't hot enough or long enough to give that kind of a tan, and I knew he hadn't been away long enough during the winter. The orgies had been too frequent.
John's body was firmer than Jim's, and his face was much handsomer. I noticed that he wanted Sarah too, but could see she wanted Bob, so he turned his gaze to Betsy.
As these pairs were sorted out and each moved closer to his chosen partner, I saw Jim eyeing me. He seemed uncertain of his ground however, and turned to Carrie, not looking very happy with the leftovers.
I still wasn't sure of my part in this business and hadn't yet undressed. Bob noticed me standing off to one side, drinking in the scene with curious eyes, alone and wondering, and beckoned me over to him and Sarah.
"You're a little timid, aren't you? I was too, my first time with this bunch." I didn't say anything, just looked at him and nodded.
"Well, even so, you can't just stand around watching like this. You'll make everyone nervous. Let's get those clothes off, okay?"
He drew me close and began to unfasten my clothes. I found his gently caressing touch exciting, writhed slightly, turning slowly beneath his hands. I was much happier to have him notice me than I had been under Jim's lecherous eye.
Sarah soon joined in. She had sat beside us, watching, her hands knitting in her lap in sympathy with Bob's awkward attempts at my clothes, until finally she had to horn in, helping him with the more difficult fastenings. She had an intimate and probing hand, and together they explored my body, from the just-budding breasts, with their absurdly sensitive nipples, to the light fuzz between my thighs. Their excitingly roaming touches ceased only to let her sigh as she ran her hand through the long softness of my light-brown hair.
John interrupted this. He strode over, a glass in his hand. "Penny, would you like to join us in a drink? If you're going to join the orgy for real, you might as well go all the way."
Jim and Carrie laughed at this; Charley snorted and even Harriet giggled.
I grinned, suddenly shy as I was reminded of the audience, but I took the glass he held out. He told me it was a daiquiri. It was very sweet and sour, but good. Looking back, it seems to me that it was awfully strong, but then it was my first drink ever.
I sipped it carefully, not quite trusting it, until Charley laughed and said, "That's not the way to drink it, girl. Down it fast, like a glass of water, like this!" He downed his own drink, so quickly that he choked.
I still wasn't sure, but I did take larger swallows, and it wasn't long before my glass was empty. The one drink was enough to make me begin to feel a little light-headed. I sat still a moment, my head to one side, all eyes upon me, feeling the first edge of the buzz that comes with too much too fast.
John took the glass from my hand and refilled it. "You'd better take it a little easy, honey. You're not used to it yet. It's potent stuff, especially at first."
The warning made me feel a little defiant. They'd said the same thing about sex, and I'd never felt any harm from that, even if I had had more than Mama would have liked. I'd do what I liked; I'd drink just as much as I wanted. They weren't going to tell me what to do!
I sipped at that drink and another for the next two hours while I listened to their conversation. They discussed the past and planned the next two days, promised what they would do to one another, with one another. I watched them fondle each other more and more freely as drink flowed through their glasses and passion grew. Hands wandered and flesh tautened to goad the party.
My own drinks were making me feel very free, and I wished that Bob would offer to caress me some more instead of staying with Sarah, but I'm sure that every other woman in that room was wishing the same thing.
Time passed in a slow haze of contentment, of growing desire for Bob, of increasing impatience to see the orgiastic antics at closer range than ever before.
Eventually Jim asked, "When's lunch? I'm getting hungry."
A coy grin settled on Harriet's face as she canted up her pelvis in reply. "I can get it any time you want, but you know the drill. The hors d'oeuvres are on the house." I was sure she didn't have to go through that for them; she could only have said it for my benefit. The others must have been familiar with any rituals observed at their orgies.
Jim got up and walked over to her to kneel before her widespread thighs. "I think I'll just have a bite. It's a pleasure."
She nearly fell over when he applied himself to his task, briefly nibbling her proffered treasure. When he'd finished and she had regained her balance by propping her behind against a table, the other men each took a turn. Before the end of this parade she had collapsed, writhing, to the floor, forcing the last devotee, Bob, to prostrate himself over her.
Meanwhile, John was being served similarly. He didn't come, as my mother had, so, when the women were done, he beckoned me and said, "Penny, we can't leave you out. You do it, too, and show these cows how it's done."
Obediently, though I grimaced, I knelt before him, took the swollen organ, moist with the saliva of the three women, scented with their lipstick, tobacco, liquor, and his own distinctive odor, wrapped my mouth about him, and did as I had done before. My tongue and lips diligently sucked and kneaded, kissed and pressed, while my fingers toyed with his ball-sack, gently pressing the weighty fruit, tickling that sensitive area behind it, stroking him up to a climax.
He exclaimed over this as if I were indeed the only one who knew how to bring a man joy. "Ahhh! Wonderful! Delightful! Ohhh!" I kept on, working to evoke the rippling contractions of the muscles that presage the climactic gusher. They came, and I milked his rigid pillar, stroking on, encouraging the rush of fluid. I welcomed its emergence and milked on, trying to extract those last precious drops, waiting for his surrender.
"Enough, ahh, enough, Penny! Don't take it all! I've gotta save some for later. Leave me a little." He pushed me away, peeling my clinging arms from his thighs, withdrawing with a slurp from my clinging jaws, leaving my desires only slightly satisfied. I still wanted to feel the plunging reamer that he, and maybe Bob, could wield so well.
"There, you guys, how's that? Maybe she'll do it for all of you too before the day's much older. If you're nice to her, that is."
A chuckle made me turn to see Charley panting, eyes aglow, ready to grab me and carry me off, Jim looking lustfully impatient, and Bob, for whom I would have gladly done it and more besides, looking interested.
Harriet's return from the kitchen with plates of cold cuts and bread for sandwiches, with beer to wash it all down, interrupted the quiet tableau. We all turned to the food, me, with a silent sigh of relief. We made a quick lunch, and then went out in the back yard to soak up some sun and wallow in each other, as it turned out.
When blankets had been spread on the grass and everyone had stretched out beneath the sun, I picked a spot next to Bob and Sarah, hoping to attract his attention.
They lay side by side, her ankle over his, toes entangled, one hand resting near his flaccid member, the other shielding her eyes from the brassy glare of the sun.
As I lay down, she propped herself up on elbow to look at me and said, "I'd like to know what's so special about your technique, honey. John certainly liked it. What the hell do you do that the rest of us don't? Maybe I can use it."
She looked at Bob then, and her last words faded as her head turned. My own eyes followed hers longingly. She didn't sound very jealous, even though she did seem to have some proprietary interest in him. "I just kinda pay attention to him, that's all." I paused. "If it's all right with Bob, I'll show you how I do it."
He didn't say anything, just spread his legs, grinning a little shyly, not wanting to admit he wanted such a young girl. When Sarah didn't say anything either, but moved a little away, that was all the encouragement I needed. Maybe an orgy could be fun, after all.
I rose and kneeled between his outstretched legs. As my hair swept over his belly and gathered around the furry root, I could see his shaft enlarging, its throbbing just beginning to become visible. It wasn't so large as John's, but that made it all the easier for me.
I took it in my hand and kissed the tip, letting my tongue stroke the sides, gently at first, then with more force. I tickled the indentation near the tip and its little slit, forcing my slender tongue tip into it the small amount that was possible.
His eyes closed; his lips parted, and a moan escaped, his hips twisting slightly back and forth in response. Gently, I drew his spearhead more deeply into my mouth, felt his slippery slide along my palate, stroked its underside with the flat of my tongue, pressed it with my cheeks as I sucked. I felt that I could keep it up forever; the flavor and texture of him filled me with delight, and it made me ecstatically happy to see how he was enjoying it. Indeed, it made me truly sorry when I felt him tense and the fountaining essence of his manhood filled my thirsty mouth. I swallowed, kept on sucking till I had every drop he could produce and he made me stop. His nerves were too sensitive in the aftermath to take any more.
When I raised my head to look lovingly on his depleted body, my gaze was caught by the audience we had attracted. My father, alone, stood to one side, detached, watching his daughter's debut. The rest stood closer, their bulging eyeballs prickling, reddening my skin. I had thought they were busy.
Jim broke the silence by stepping eagerly forward, his long thin pole bouncing before him. "It's my turn now! Jesus, am I ever turned on!"
I recoiled, but tripped over Bob's ankle, extended behind me, where he still lay as I had left him. Jim seized me by the wrist as I fell and pulled me to my feet against him. He threw his arms around me, pressed his liquor laden mouth to mine.
I couldn't respond. His sudden lustful advance left me cold, but he didn't seem to care. His tongue filled my mouth, invading every crevice, while his hands insinuated themselves between my buttocks, into the entrance of my womanhood, shriveled in fear of him, and under my armpits, in unceasing rotation. He lowered me to the ground, stilled my struggles with his weight, forced my thighs apart, tweaked the budding tips of my breasts with his lips.
Moisture lingered, but excitement was gone, and he gained entrance readily enough, though I accepted him without joy. When his thin rod penetrated me, I was surprised into a sudden convulsion by the slender litheness of his organ.
Its supple action whipped me into a froth, drove me in spite of myself to a paroxysm of ecstasy, made me nearly break his back with the pressure of my arms and heels. I found it terrifying that a man, once installed in his saddle, even though by force, could so excite me that I could find myself enjoying the ordeal. This was my first experience of this sort, and all the future held for me never diminished the terror engendered by the approach of joy in the most unlikely situations.
My spasms only drove him on to such faster action that he finished long before the peak of my climax. As he withdrew, panting, leaving me in unallayed lust unwillingly aroused, he remarked that I was surely the tightest lay he'd had in a long time, and the most active. It occurred to me then that, with an organ like his, he would have to find a tight woman to get much pleasure.
Hardly was he off me than Charley, obviously aroused to the point of raging lust, hurled himself on my now receptive form and thrust his more commonly built prick deep within my steaming pussy and began to pound with all his might, though with little finesse. Nevertheless, he was enough to bring me to that state of mindless ecstasy, of screaming joy, that every woman knows and wants.
It didn't take long; very soon he was done and off me, though he had come so fast upon Jim's heels that I was satisfied. I was so enervated that I couldn't get up for some while. Even when I could, I lay there, enjoying the lassitude, resting. When I did rise, I found them all engulfed in each other's arms, busily flattening the grass. Apparently the women too had been aroused by the action centering on me and had revived their men as soon as they could.
After they'd finished and lain back on the lawn to catch their breaths, sweaty from exercising so hard in the hot summer sun, my stepfather brought out some beer, even insisting that I have one. It tasted good to all of us.
No one had enough energy the rest of that afternoon to do more than fondle and kiss, and make the beer disappear. At John's insistence, and the boisterous urgings of Jim and Charley, I had four or five beers. On top of the earlier drinks these went quickly to my head, so that by dinner time I could hardly walk straight. My head was spinning slightly and the air seemed wavy.
When we moved into the living room after dinner, I heard Charley and Jim whispering together, chuckling over some obscene joke. Though I could hear nothing but the murmur of their voices, they quit when I came near. Only after Charley insisted I take one of the drinks John was passing around did I gain any idea of their secret.
I was pretty dizzy. Never having drunk much before, I didn't really know what to expect. I had seen my parents after a few drinks, but I felt even sillier than they had seemed to me.
When Charley leered at me and suggested, "Hey, Penny, maybe now you'll show Jim and me what a hot mouth you got," I thought it was a good idea. I wanted to show off. I was back in that mood of expectation my parents had encouraged before the orgy. I'd forgotten the earlier scene.
Jim strode over, grabbed me by the back of the neck, forcing me to my knees, pressing my face to his crotch. I was groggy and slow from the drinks and didn't seem to know what to do with the projecting rod of flesh forcing itself against my lips. Impatiently, he urged me on. "Go on, suck it! It won't bite!"
The others, except Bob, laughed uproariously at my confusion. Slowly, I seized his rigid staff and mouthed it, but my alcohol-numbed lips couldn't grip it properly. I couldn't control my muscles and the saliva dripped from my slack jaw onto his sack.
In a vain effort to get some pleasure from me, he held my head and pistoned in and out of my mouth. My slackness, however, was so ineffective that he hurled me from him in disgust. "Yaah, she's too drunk. You can have her, Charley."
I staggered back in relief, though unable to control myself. I almost fell into Charley when he grabbed me and tried to slap me into some awareness of the world about me. He didn't get anywhere. I was beyond caring what they did to me, beyond helping or hindering. He let me fall back and threw himself upon me. His penetration was brutal. I was too drunk to be receptive, too dry, and he hurt. He took no notice of my weak struggles, but plunged on. Mercifully, I passed out.
I awoke in the morning in bed beside Bob and Sarah.
CHAPTER THREE
I woke up slowly, a slight headache and slighter nausea the only traces of the night before, vanishing even as I thought about them. I turned my head slowly to one side, wondering whose weight made the bed tip and sway to that side, saw them lying there, wrapped in each other, Bob's arms tenderly protective, his face, even in' sleep, wearing a look of tender, proprietary concern. I didn't want to disturb them, but my movements as I tried to slip quietly from the bed woke him up. I watched as he slowly, carefully, removed his arms 'from Sarah and turned toward me.
"Hey," he whispered. "Don't disappear yet. Sarah had a lot to drink last night and won't be up for a while yet. The party went on for quite a while after we put you in here."
He showed no sign of excitement at my nudity. I sat down on the edge of the bed, remembering, and covered my face with my hands. "I didn't think it would be like that. They said it was fun, but it was horrible ... except with you. I don't like Charley and Jim. They're awful." I sobbed softly. I didn't want to wake up Sarah. "I wish all my parents' friends were like you and Sarah."
He looked embarrassed. Teary compliments didn't agree with him. "Charley isn't a very nice guy, Penny. These orgies are all his idea, really. He likes to make them do this kind of thing when people owe him money."
"What do you mean?" My tears vanished as I perked up. This sounded interesting.
"I mean he's a loan shark, as well as other things. People come to him when they can't borrow money any place else. He charges real high interest rates so it's hard to pay it back, too. Some loan sharks beat people up when they can't pay. It makes a good lesson for others. Charley, though, makes enough off the ones who do pay so he can have some fun with the ones who don't. He doesn't have to beat any one up."
"But what does he do when people can't pay?"
"He makes them get into orgies like this one. That's how he gets his fun."
I was disillusioned. My parents had told me this was all for fun, but now I found out the only fun was Charley's. Everybody else must have been forced into it. Still, it did make me feel better. I didn't have to think I was peculiar because I didn't enjoy it as much as the others seemed to. But, I wondered....
"Bob, do you think ... do you think Papa gave me all those lessons because Charley told him to?"
"What lessons?"
"Papa's been teaching me sex for years now, stretching me to get me ready and teaching me all kinds of tricks."
"I wouldn't be surprised." He looked sad. "It's the kind of thing Charley might do. He's got your father good and proper. He had to borrow money from him to keep the gas station going a few years ago, I understand. This is a good place for orgies.
Isolated, you know. No, I wouldn't put it past Charley at all. In a town like this your father would really be ruined if he let it out about the orgies. He has proof too, you know. He usually takes pictures when someone new comes into his group, pictures that show everything. They give him a little extra to keep people in line."
I was silent. I'd known it wasn't usual to be taught the things I'd learned, but it was nice to know that it wasn't my parents who were unusual. They'd been forced into it, and that can explain a lot.
"Do you owe him any, Bob?"
"Yeah, I did a silly thing. I borrowed, and then I couldn't pay it back. Sometimes I wish I were like Jim. I think he got into this with a gambling debt, but that doesn't matter. He really seems to like the situation."
I couldn't help but share his depression at the thought.
"I'm glad you don't, and I bet Sarah doesn't either. I bet that's why she likes you."
"You might be right. She hasn't told me so."
He lay back on the bed. I curled up against him, thinking. "Isn't there any way for you and Papa to get out of this? Can't you pay him back?"
"It isn't that easy, Penny. I told you what he can do. Now he can even threaten to tell what we did to you, and that would give your father even more trouble than the other stuff."
I put my head on his shoulder and cried. It had been awful, that orgy. And I could see that there were going to be many more like it.
He was petting me gently, soothing me, holding me close against his side, cuddling, when Sarah woke up. She rolled over toward us and said groggily, slowly rubbing her eyes with the back of one hand, "Wha's going on? Couldn' ya wake me up or sumpin, honey?"
When she saw my tears, though, she became more alert. "What's he been doing to you, Penny? After that spectacle last night, he should know better than to...."
Hastily, I reassured her. "It's all right, Sarah. He's been telling me about Charley and how he's so mean. I didn't know what he was like. Mama and Papa said it would be fun. I wish I could do something about him!"
"Don't we all, kid. But there isn't a thing. He's got himself too damn well covered."
The three of us lay there, wrapped in shared gloom and despair. Charley had brought us together, but they had something out of the mess. What did I have? Would it be worth it if I ever got anything out of it?
"Hey, up there! When are you gonna come down and get your breakfast? Don't keep them both to yourself, Bob!" It was Jim.
We didn't want anyone charging up to chase us down. The voice of tyranny was enough. We went as soon as I had dried my tears.
After we'd eaten, I tried to beg off from the rest of the orgy. I wanted time to think about what Bob had told me, but I only said I was sore from the night before and not feeling too well.
"It's probably all those drinks you had, poor dear," offered Betsy. She didn't approve of little girls drinking.
Charley laughed. "Give her a little hair of the dog. She'll be all right then."
"She's sore too, remember. Besides," said Sarah, "one day should be enough for any girl's first orgy."
"All right," he growled. "But, John, she'd better be able to stand things better the next time, you hear?" Bob's picture was clearer now. My father nodded, but looked relieved when I escaped to my room to be alone in my misery.
I was able to watch the rest of the orgy from my window for most of that day. I still thought of them as my parents' guests. I couldn't throw off the term I'd grown up with, though I now knew that most of them were more like flies caught in a spider's web.
That spider, though he had only two legs and a potbelly, was still wily enough to have his way. He kept Sarah by him for most of the day, forcing her to satisfy him in every way she could. She may have been a substitute for me, but that knowledge didn't help Bob. He fumed, whenever Carrie wasn't crawling all over him, and kept looking wistfully after her.
Pairings never lasted long. Jim would keep my mother only long enough to satisfy himself, then rush to pull Betsy from John, even if they were kissing wantonly, and throw himself upon her. The others shifted too, restlessly.
Eventually, Charley fell asleep from exhaustion, and Sarah ran to Bob, alone at the moment. They clutched and huddled together in one corner of the yard, passionlessly comforting each other until Jim noticed them and led her away to hold his prick in her hand while he rested, leaving Bob open to the desperately predacious grasping of my mother.
This pattern cycled several times, the pace slackening with repetition, until at last Bob and Sarah could be alone and undisturbed, taking refuge from the lashings of the web around them.
When my parents were together, I watched them clutch each other frantically before falling to the ground for an urgent coupling. Harriet cried out at the end with a note of what I took for utter despair as she swooned from Papa's efforts.
I didn't dare go downstairs again till after dusk and dinner, when I heard their cars drive off, leaving the house in its usual quiet stillness. There was no sound from the house at all, not even the usual small noises that accompanied my parents' movements around the house.
I found them in the living room, slumped exhaustedly on the couch, side by side. I threw myself on his naked, sweaty chest and cried, "Oh, Papa! I know why you let all this happen. Bob told me this morning!"
"There's not much to say, Penny. Not for me, anyway. I am sorry ... for letting him force us into putting you into that ... and that it was so ugly for you. I didn't think he'd be so ... so ugly."
He was defeated, sad. I wondered if he was always like this when one of their orgies ended. I had never seen him until he had had time to recover, to put on his mask Of normality again. It had to be a mask, to conceal the secret from the world. My father couldn't have kept his even temper in the situation Bob had described. Of course, his present mood could have been only for this one orgy, the orgy of my initiation, an orgy to crown a half-willing, half-anguished pimp.
"You mean you didn't want to think so," put in my mother. "You knew damned well what a bastard that Charley Mathews is. How you ever managed to get us into such a mess, I'll never know. You didn't have to go to him!"
"I did too! It was the only way I could get the money. I needed it fast, you know that!"
"I know that, all right. And I know you never once tried to get out of his grip! Sometimes I think you enjoy the stuff he makes you do! Getting your own daughter...."
"Stepdaughter!"
"... drunk like that and turning her over to a pair of beasts like him and Jim! I swear you were enjoying that spectacle last night."
"Don't let's talk like that, especially not in front of Penny," he moaned, holding his head in his hands.
"What do you mean? She knows all about it now. Bob told her! Weren't you listening?"
This was a side of my parents I had never seen. The argument sounded as if it had been often repeated, though not with me around. I didn't understand then how a person could be corrupted so much by the likes of a Charley. I had thought my stepfather a wonderful man, even though I had known that other fathers didn't give their daughters lessons like his. I still thought so, but to hear that he might have actually enjoyed my degradation changed my love for him. He was no longer the mountain of security he had been.
When I went to bed that night, I lay awake a long time, wondering what things would be like in the future, wondering how long I would have to t up with Charley and the poor souls his web had caught. I didn't want to wind up like them, tortured by unnatural demands, only to be, perhaps, finally broken and, my sins revealed to the world, to have all possibility of happiness torn from me.
But, I thought as my eyes at last began to shut, Bob's a pretty nice guy. Maybe....
CHAPTER FOUR
I rose to my feet and stood back while Charley buckled his belt.
"Don't worry, you guys. You'll all get a chance. I'll assign you each a girl. You can do whatever you want with 'em. There're a few concessions, too. How about you, Harry? You want one? I can give you the kitchen; every meal you get to collect from anybody you want. The girls do all the work. All you gotta do is collect."
Harry, self-important, balding, and portly, smoking a fat cigar, nodded eagerly, almost drooling.
"You can have the dining room, and the waitresses, Dick. You can collect after every meal. Jack, how about the housemaid section? Jeff, the bar." These three, with Harry, were the most important looking men in the room. They might have been Charley's chief lieutenants, or maybe people he owed favors to.
"Now there's just one other concession, and this one's not up for grabs. There's just one guy here can take care of it. If there's anyone here that doesn't know him, meet my bodyguard. Stand up and take a bow, Kurt. Kurt's a big boy, folks. I always give him the graveyard deal. Not much work to do, but watch out when he collects." He laughed, was answered by a few chuckles, throatily grim, from those who knew what he meant, a few low moans from the women.
Kurt was a big boy, enormous. My eyes widened when I saw the thick, long bulge that ran halfway to his knee. What an erection he would have, I marveled, though I doubted he could use it. It would be just too big. His beetled brow and slack jaw, his vacant gaze and slouching posture, showed the dimness of his mind. A hulking brute, fit only for carrying out the simplest of orders, for guarding his master.
"Let's see now. I still have to assign you all girls, don't I? I'll stick with Carrie myself. I'll be pretty busy just with the rent." He grinned at her, she shrugged and looked away.
It didn't take him long to make up his mind. Quickly, he called off the names, countering the few protests efficiently, till nearly every man there had, if not his favorite, at least one that satisfied him.
I was given to a grossly folded mass of flesh blessed with the name of Pig-eye. His eyes were almost hidden from sight in the crevices of his jowly face. His body was a mass of fat and flab; I wondered how he could walk. His legs were stubby pillars, his belly hung down to hide his crotch. I couldn't see how he could make love. Surely it would be impossible for him to get close enough to a girl. It would be difficult to satisfy him, I knew, but I was curious to see how he would propose to do it.
Natalie, my roommate, wound up with a fairly handsome fellow. He had a rather hard and ruthless look about him, but she didn't seem unhappy with him; she submitted to his exploring hands as soon as she was called. I felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought that some other would soon be enjoying the pleasures of her beautiful body.
When Charley finally paused, only Hank was still left out. Every other man in the room had a girl beside him or on his lap. He sat still, glaring, gripping his glass so the knuckles whitened from the pressure, as Charley carefully looked over the remaining girls, pointing to one of them at last, motioning her over toward Hank.
The style of his words didn't change, but the mirth left his voice. One could almost see black robes settle about his shoulders as he drew himself up to say, "You, Heloise. That's right. You haven't been a very good girl lately, have you? Well, perhaps that will be fixed soon. You take good care of Hank, hear. He hasn't been very good either. In fact, he's been real bad. You'd better hope he learns better."
She blanched and quailed at the thoughts he must have given her, but still she moved to Hank's side, afraid to disobey. Comfortingly, he put an arm around her, pulled her down onto his lap, and ceased his glaring momentarily to soundly kiss her. She calmed, but his tension showed in the tight grip he kept on her.
"Okay, girls, let's get on the ball. Dinner's supposed to be cooking, and I'm getting hungry. It'd better be ready soon. In the meantime, go get your party outfits on. If you haven't got any decent ones, get fresh ones from Oscar. He'll see to it. I don't want anything in the way when I'm after a fun time." He relaxed, now that the formalities were over, and called for his drink to be freshened as he sat down again.
We obeyed the wave of his hand, some of us heading for the kitchen to finish readying the meal, the rest of us to don the skimpy, almost transparent aprons we had to wear for his parties. They were the only things we could wear, covering us from our nipples to just above the crotch. The color and pattern varied slightly with the jobs we filled, gauzy black for the waitresses, white for the cooks. My own, since I had no real job to do that weekend, was a bright red panel in front, with nothing but the neck strap and the bow at the waist in back.
The meal was better than anything I had seen there before: shrimp cocktail, new potatoes, snow peas, baked Alaska, and the main event: venison chops, very much out of season and very fresh. Oscar must have found a poacher to provide it.
With all that was spread before us I felt a bit cheated. It was so good, so much better than our usual fare. This resort was certainly for Charley's benefit, and no one else's.
These thoughts, though, were quickly driven out of my head. Hardly had we sat down, each pair having to find first the name tag of the man, than Harry stood and announced his intention of collecting his first payment right away. Charley gave him the go-ahead and he looked the room over carefully for a moment before seizing Natalie by the arm, declaring he liked redheads best. Her partner didn't like it, but could only shrug. You couldn't argue; you had to pay for things with your girl's body, and if it was usually only the junior members of the gang who did the paying, well, the boss ran things his way.
Hastily sweeping aside the dishes, Harry lifted her onto the end of a table and exposed his thick pillar. Those seated near drew back their chairs and settled down to enjoy the show as he drove his chest between her knees, forcing them up to her chin so that her thighs were spread and the rosy nest gaped wide.
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him, forcing her against his swollen spearhead, impaling her so deeply I could almost hear the stretching tissues creak with the strain. Once he was well seated he rocked forward, putting all her weight on the table, surging back and forth, plunging and withdrawing. The sounds of their moist slappings and suckings reverberated through the room as he pounded on, racing toward the finish.
Natalie had seemed to submit out of patience at first, as though she were only willing to put up with him because of the pressure on her, but as he quickened the tempo her face became transfigured. Her mouth gaped wide, she began to pant, her brow contorted. I could see her thighs and buttocks begin to clench and squeeze spasmodically as his carnal motions heated her senses. As the end approached she began to writhe actively, throwing the tablecloth askew. Her knees locked around his neck, her nails clawed down his back, a climactic wail rent the air. He tensed and thrust, holding in the depths while his satisfaction spurted forth. Her muscles visibly pulsed as she drew out every drop, leaving him spent, drained.
The same release could be seen in the spectators as well. The intensity of their stares, the tension of their postures, the firm set of their mouths as they sighed in unison and licked their lips, all relaxed with the waning of Harry's rigor.
Limply, he withdrew, leaving her gasping wearily where she lay, her apron rumpled and awry, damp with their mingled sweat. The juices of their passion bedewed her hair for all to see, trickled from her cleft, following the downward leading groove like water from a hillside spring. He turned, panting, dangling, and approached another, demanding that she revive him. She tried, but all to no avail; with lips and fingers she fondled and tickled, but he remained quiescent. Natalie's skills were too much for her.
Harry turned to yet another, and another, and then two at once, but though they tried every trick they or he knew, it was still no use. From his face, their attentions pleased him, but his pleasure had to end there. Natalie had wrought too well.
Only when he gave up and stalked in defeat to his seat was the signal given to bring in the food. It was good, though too soon gone.
We dallied over the meal, talking quietly, though we girls had to be content mainly with listening to the men. Their conversation was dominated by talk of the weekend and what they would do during it. Most of the time was left open, the only constraint being Charley's custom of evening poker and the short business session the next day. They found their coarse jokes about poker bets under Charley's "system of bawder" very amusing, though I, and many of the other girls, I'm sure, thought it deserved more tears than chuckles. Again I would be used, and this time, probably, to the point of pain.
When the jokes reached their peak, or, rather, depths, Pig-eye patted my knee reassuringly. I wasn't sure what he might mean. Was he promising worse or better than the jokes implied? His face was hard to read, hidden as it was in the residue of many meals like this one, but I took heart when I realized what I had missed in my self-absorption. He, alone among them all, had told no jokes, and laughed only politely, if at all.
Over our dessert and coffee, Dick, master of waitresses, selected his payment and collected it on the floor. He didn't use a position as originally contorted as Harry's, though he still had his choicelush Mona, a sturdy, big-boned girl with some Indian blood, judging from her high cheekbones and straight black hair. Her pleasure was not as great as Natalie's. She put none of herself into the act, but complied with his demands in a very workmanlike manner. Plainly, he had no more effect on her than a tickling feather, arousing only reaction, never passion. I wondered then how a man could enjoy such an automaton; even though she tried to feign the passion, it must have been obvious that she wasn't enjoying him.
When he withdrew, I knew I was right. He stood above her, scowling down. "Bah! A doll's as good as you! Ptaah!" He spat and turned away.
She blanched in horror when she realized what she'd done, and only recovered slightly when Charley winked at her. I thought I could see why. In a house like ours, a girl would have to please, and if she didn't, whether couldn't or wouldn't, she might be in danger. I didn't know how a girl might be removed, but I could fear the worst. Was this Heloise's sin? I might never know.
With dinner over, a few of the men took their girls away to pursue their pleasures privately, while the rest adjourned to the lounge and got out the cards.
The table was large enough to hold us all, each girl sitting beside her man, just as at dinner. Some of the men started to fondle their girls, but Pig-eye, and a few others, sent theirs after drinks. We obeyed quickly, so that when Charley sat down we were all ready.
As he took his seat, he cast an eye over the uninhibited groping surrounding him. "All right! Cut out the fooling around, you guys. We're here to play poker."
"Yeah," put in one fellow, relinquishing his girl to her seat. "How does this bawder stuff work for poker, anyhow?"
"It's easy enough. You use these chips, see?" He spoke sarcastically, earning a general titter. "White, red, and blue-one, five, and ten. You win less than a hundred, you get that many seconds of mouth from any girl you like. A loser's girl, that is. You win over a hundred, then divide it by ten and you get that many seconds of cunt. You can take it a hand at a time or all at once at the end of the game. Big winner gets to ram it up an ass, if he wants to. Hah! Now come on, let's get down to business. We've got to play strip till everyone's naked, the girls too. Then we can go for real." He laughed again, and quickly shuffled and dealt, pausing only to have the cards cut.
It didn't take us long to be stripped. They seemed to be trying to lose, to get to the sexy stakes they wanted to play for. By the time their first drinks were gone, they were ready. No rest for the weary, but back to our singular chores.
I was lucky to have Pig-eye. He must have had enormous card sense, for he seemed able to win almost whenever he wished. We were the first to be stripped, and his smile seemed to say it was deliberate. I was shocked to see what he looked like without his concealing coverings. His face told the world that his bulk was formed in rolls of flesh, but what rolls! You might be able to get something a little bit like him if you molded a man out of clay and then squashed it down to half its height, or perhaps if you took a stack of blankets and folded them sloppily into a squat, manlike shape.
His penis was almost invisible, hidden in the rolls of fat. The little I could see made me wonder how he could ever use it. It was buried so deep that I felt sure I would have trouble reaching it even with my mouth.
He didn't seem embarrassed, or even aware of the sight he made. As they settled down to serious playing, he nonchalantly scratched himself, hiding his hand in his palm, and concentrated solely on the game.
Throughout those long evening hours he consistently won, losing only enough hands to keep the others happy and satisfy the laws of chance. He often dropped out, wisely appraising his hand and cutting his losses. I knew just enough of the game to tell that he was a very good player. I don't believe he cheated in any way, and the lack of rancor on the part of the others supported that belief.
It was a shock when he collected his first winnings. He picked the girl at the end of the hand, and as she came to him I could see his rising excitement. It was fantastic! So small and hidden, yet under the spur of lust it rose a full six inches beyond its shadowed niche. How much stayed out of sight I could not tell.
His winnings were small, so the poor girl had to engulf it with her mouth. His winnings were large enough however, to give her time to bring him to completion. He poured forth his tribute to her talents, filled and overflowed her ivory-bordered embrace, and then shrank swiftly out of sight, dismissing her without a word.
It wasn't long before he won another pot, though he didn't collect so readily that time. It was funny to see his choice root out his manhood from that furrowed field and slowly rouse it to its full extent, but time ran short and she had to leave him standing. His understanding mien tempted me to help him out, but I wasn't needed. He quickly solved that problem by himself, for he won again, and gained release from the tension of his badge of triumph.
After that he slowed down, winning just enough to stay ahead and keep me by his side.
I watched, though, as others lost and paid, won and collected. One fellow, who won and lost his hands almost alternately but managed to win more than he lost, would let his chips accumulate until he had just over a hundred, then claim a cunt to plunge briefly on his lap. He kept himself in a state of nearly constant erection this way, and with every episode he seemed closer to completion. At the end of the game he had only enough chips for a brief oral visit, but that was all he needed. Her mouth had hardly touched him, the lips had certainly not yet closed, when he burst with a yell. The pumped up pressure propelled a jet of fluid, thinner than normal, into her mouth with such force that it sprayed back, as when a hose is aimed into a bucket. He relaxed then, but when he left with his girl his eyes still glowed amorously.
For the rest, it was endless repetition of lustful snacks. The same scenes, the same cries, the same slaps of flesh and splash of fluids, till at the end no one had enough winnings to claim the supreme stake, though several had become horny enough to want it.
I was glad to leave when they were done, though a little leary of my guardian. True, he had kept me by him in the game, and it had seemed on purpose, but was that from any regard for me as a person, or did he only want me fresh for his own purposes?
When we reached his room I put down the clothes I was carrying and turned to face him. "What now, Pig-eye?" I asked defensively. I knew the answer. It was inevitable. It was my purpose here.
"We go to bed, Penny. It's getting late, and it's time again for bed. Don't look so stiff. I'm not going to bite you." He laughed, a gentle laugh, full of sympathy, as though he understood my plight. "Screw you, maybe, but not bite you. My tastes aren't anywhere near as fierce as some, like Charley. Relax, please. I'm nowhere near as bad as Hook."
He might have read my mind! His voice was so tender and apologetic, as if he feared I might scream, that I did relax. It was suddenly unthinkable that I should fear him, fail to trust him. He sounded like he might have a soul, know how to treat a woman, arouse her, satisfy her, in more ways than sex alone.
"I know, I'm fat, repulsively fat. At least, most people seem to think so, but I like to eat." He grimaced self-consciously. "But enough of that. I like to screw too, so show me what kind of a girl Charley's given me. You'll have to get me ready first, though. I'm afraid that kind of poker takes the iron out of my poker."
He spoke slowly, shyly smiling at his little joke as he pointed to his invisible tool. The look on his blubbery face, belying his words, made me think of some chubby little boy asking a favor, and my feelings softened.
I went slowly to my knees, fascination leading my eyes over the gross folds of smooth dry flesh, that should have been oily and greasy, but weren't. I pressed my face against the overhanging slope of his belly, burrowed beneath it into the cave it sheltered, rooting with mouth and nose like a hog seeking out the precious truffle.
I found the tip of his twig, grasped it with my lips, curled my tongue around it, licked down the side. As it grew in length and latent power, I was startled to find how deeply it extended. I held only the tip, and that was forcing my head away and my jaws apart with its swelling, but my tongue could not find its end. I probed with my fingers, feeling its sinewy strength, seeking its source, and found it only when the heel of my hand had passed my mouth.
I encircled its girth with thumb and forefinger, squeezing softly in time with the pulses of my cheeks and tongue, found and caressed his swollen sack with the other hand, enjoying the spongy texture of its heavy burden. I squeezed gently, just hard enough to evoke a low moan. My attentively laving tongue and nibbling teeth brought on a sudden pulsation as his muscles clenched beneath their soft and slippery coat. He moaned again and pulled away.
"Enough! I'm ready. Oh! I'm ready!" Half lifting me from my feet, he pulled me up and led me to the bed. His passions spurred him on to hurl himself down beside me, quickly digging his stubby fingers into my sensitive flesh. I couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of passion, but his own urgent desires hardly let him take the time to rouse mine to the fullest. I was just at the edge of lust when he pulled away and, kneeling at my side, tweaked my short hairs and panted, "Up! Up on your knees! Hurry!"
"What's this? What are you going to do?" I was worried. The only way I'd ever before sapped a man's potency in that position was astride him, pulling him up into me, using his groin and thighs for a rocking chair, but that plainly wasn't what Pig-eye wanted.
Impatiently, he cried, almost shouting, "I'm going to show you how a fat man does it. On your hands and knees. Hurry! I can't stand it!" Intrigued and curious, I obeyed. Barely was I in position as he'd ordered when he swung in behind me, planting his knees between mine and hefting up his paunch to rest on the shelf of my buttocks.
I felt him probing ineffectually at me and reached back to guide him into my warm embrace. His weight upon my back almost toppled me, but I was deft enough to recover before he was unseated. Smoothly sliding through my guiding hand, he searched out the limits of my womanhood. He lunged, stretching me to the point of bursting, filling me entirely, but still his sturdy prick filled my grasp, my fingers curling in the damp and furry niche from which the beast reared its enchanting head, sandwiched between our most intimate surfaces.
With his paunch out of the way, his belly flattened by his position, there was no end to the joy he could give. I ground back to meet his thrusts, felt him press into my depths until I almost choked and had to use both my hands to keep from collapsing. I squeezed and twisted, rotating my hips and clenching my thighs, glorying in his moans of delight, ceasing only when his quickening movements forced me to brace myself and lower my head to the pillow, limp with the force of crescendoing sensation.
As I bowed in worship of his power, he crowed in triumph and pride and bent forward over my back. His cushioning belly kept him from bending much, but he was able to reach and stroke my loins, sending waves of glowing heat through me as I shuddered in response. Though I hadn't been thoroughly ready at the start, I was now. His fulfilling probes, exciting touch, had seared my nerves till I was ready to scream with ecstasy.
When his finger found the bud at the slippery border of my cunt and rapidly diddled it, I stiffened and cried out, nearly swooning. He had been quiescent while he sought my joy, but my cry must have been a signal, for now he raced into action again.
Never have I seen a man go so long, so powerfully, so beautifully. Again and again my screams of joy resounded through the room as I peaked in answer to his shuttling motions. As he finally tensed with the initial surges of his climax, I was galvanized into action, moving my hips from side to side, quivering my muscles, clenching, milking him of every drop as he plunged even more deeply into me, stretching me beyond all possibility, and flooding my womb, filling the loving cup, finally overflowing it. I fell forward then in a dead faint, his collapsing weight forcing me down into oblivion.
I knew no more till morning, when he shook me awake and led me down to breakfast. It was a quiet meal. Hardly anyone was fully awake, and those that were, were silent, thoughtful. Many eyes were bleary from drink and lack of sleep, but soon they became more alert.
No clothes were worn that day, except our aprons, and the men cavorted naked through the house, pinching, feeling, collecting all the debts that had piled up since the last orgy. Pig-eye had me twice more, just as he had the night before. He looked crude in his quivering corpulence, but crude his talents weren't. He knew only the one position that would accommodate his shape, but he knew it well. His skill and gentleness were such that I soon came to look on him with something akin to fondness. He would never be able to take the place of my dear Rod, but he could most admirably fill his place for a little while.
CHAPTER FIVE
The youthful summer of my debut saw only one more orgy. Bob told me then that Charley had other captive groups with which he also spent time. It didn't surprise me.
The second orgy wasn't so bad, though. Charley must have satisfied his first raging lust for youth and decided to wait till I was older and more suited to his saturnalian games. I managed to spend most of that orgy with Bob and was able to learn more of his gentle nature, though Carrie tried to monopolize him and I had to share what was left of his drained abilities with Sarah. Of all that group, he was the one I liked the best.
I spent that summer, and the next three, mainly in long walks in the country by myself, or alone in my room, reading and dreaming. Since my father's lessons had stopped with my induction into the slavery of lust, I had only the occasional orgies to relieve my tensions, though I only looked forward to them because of Bob. I often had to turn to my now-accomplished fingers for that purpose, finding in their slippery manipulations escape from the foreboding that often crept upon me.
I let my light brown hair grow during this time, till it hung down to my waist, a glistening carpet covering my back. I filled out, too. I lost the thinness that must have been saving me from many of Charley's attentions. My breasts swelled to the size of young melons, firm and smooth, tipped with dark brown nipples that swelled and ached whenever I thought of Bob. My hips broadened and the hair surrounding my pussy became thicker and darker.
As my charms increased, I found Charley's eyes on me more often, thoughtfully appraising my growing capabilities, and I began to avoid the orgies as much as I could. Even though this meant I would not see Bob, I could not stand the thought of having Charley, and Jim, who followed his lead. I would arrange to be away, or plead illness. I wasn't able to avoid them all, of course. It seemed that the more I avoided an orgy, the more frequently Charley would insist on having one, until finally he was able to have his way.
I supposed his attentions meant that I was becoming beautiful, or at least attractive, and my mirror told me he could be right. It was hard to admit it to myself, though. The horrible associations made me wish it weren't so. Only much later in my life did I decide that beauty was worth having.
The summer I turned sixteen I thought things had changed. I was walking, one day in July, along the edge of one of my father's fields. It was shaded there by the trees that grew between the field and the nearby stream. The sounds of murmuring water, heard faintly through the leaves, and the rustle of the corn blended softly in the light breeze.
One moment I thought I was alone. The next, a young man stepped from the trees ahead of me carrying a fishing rod in one hand. The creel at his hip slapped wetly against him as he walked. He seemed about my age, and he looked happy.
I tossed my head, making my hair sway in the breeze, and waved a hand. "Hi. Been fishing?"
"Yes. Got three nice ones, too." He smiled and patted the creel. "This your land?"
"My father's. I'm just out for a walk." I tilted my face up to look into his, shadowed by the broad-brimmed red hat he wore. "My name's Penny. Penny Pandergast."
"Mine's Rod Cramer. I hope it's all right for me to fish here. It isn't posted, and it's a lovely brook."
He stood quietly, waiting, his face expectant, hopeful. "I know. That's why I like to walk out there. My family doesn't fish, but Papa never says no to anyone, when they ask."
"Oh." He must have caught the slightly critical tone in my voice. "I didn't know who owned this land. I walked down to it from up near my house, about a mile from here. I was going to walk home by the road. Is it all right for me to fish here?"
"I think so. Maybe you'll even teach me how. It's kind of lonely around here." As if that explained my sudden yearning! I was so happy to see a kind face. I had never been able to enjoy Bob as much as I would have wished, with Charley always looming near, ready to ruin it. But here was the possibility of someone as nice as Bob, and someone who could be around more often, be more exclusively mine.
"I've noticed. There aren't many people around here. My family just moved in a little while ago. We lived down by Portland before." He smiled, began his easy stride away from the brook, toward the road, his rod resting on his shoulder, the creel again swaying with his motion. I hurried to keep up, taking two steps to his one. "Maybe I will teach you. It's a lot of fun, you know."
While we walked toward the road, about a quarter of a mile away, I found that we would be going to the same school that fall. It gave me hopes....
We parted at the road and I looked longingly after him as he strode rapidly off toward his home. I wanted him! Oh, how I wanted him! He seemed more mature, nicer than the other boys I knew. He also seemed to be a loner, like me.
Of course, I may only have been ripe for someone new. I'd known the boys at school all my life. They held no mystery for me; I knew them too well. I thought Charley and Jim foul, always ignoring my feelings. Even Bob, who was tender and considerate, could not be mine alone. He had a wife, a mistress, and even then he had to serve two others on demand. I didn't want to have to share my man.
For the next two weeks I walked beside that brook nearly every day. I wanted to see him again, but I didn't, till one day I rounded a clump of alder and spied him fishing a still pool in a bend of the stream.
As I watched, silently, making no move to part the last bushes separating us, a small trout took his fly. It was too small to offer much of a struggle, and it was only moments before he gently released it to the water. Only then did I call his name and move to meet him.
That afternoon he showed me how to use a fly rod, demonstrating the flip of the wrist, and the smooth retrieve, holding my arm to guide me through the steps. We laughed and got in each other's ways as he fought to free the results of my first clumsy effort from the bushes and trees that seemed to reach out to snare the line. Once, when he brushed against my breast, he blushed, unsure of my reaction, or perhaps embarrassed. I pretended not to notice, though the sensation sent a thrill coursing up and down my spine and weakened my knees. It was still too soon, I thought, to let him see how very ready I was for the kind of happiness only he could give me.
Finally, after many tries, I managed to put the fly in the water instead of a tree. Exultantly, I tried again and again, and succeeded often enough to raise my hopes that I might catch a fish.
Neither of us caught any more that day, though. When we parted at the road again I walked home feeling happier than I had in weeks. I'm sure I must have astounded my parents when I walked into the house. I bubbled with a new kind of joy. They were used to a moping and dull Penny.
The following weeks were happy ones. Nearly every day we met by that same pool, where he gave me further lessons in how to wave a fly through the air and bring it down upon the water with hardly a ripple. My first fish was a huge delight, for him as well as me.
During that time we began to walk hand in hand, or perhaps I should say that he began to dare to do it, for I was ready at any time, for that and more. When I would occasionally bring a lunch for us, we would he on the bank, my head pillowed on his arm, and talk, and grow closer still.
As the end of summer and the fishing season, and the beginning of school, approached, I became impatient. He had never made any kind of advance for me to accept, or decline, if nature would so have it. Hand-holding hardly counted. He'd never given a sign that he meant anything serious by it. It had been weeks since the last orgy, and I was feeling the lack of true release. One would probably be held before too long, but I didn't want to wait. Besides, I thought, if Rod was all mine, he would help me bear the weight of the degradation, just by satisfying me with his body beforehand.
The last Saturday before Labor Day, I arrived at our pool a little while before we had planned to meet. It was a warm day; the sun was beating down and the water hadn't yet begun to lose its summer warmth. I had brought a towel and a bar of soap.
I looked around from the bank, wanting to be sure there were no unwelcome eyes present, before undressing and hiding my clothes beneath a small shrub. Then, with the soap in my hand, I stepped into the water. I shuddered at its cool touch, winced at the roughness of the gravel bottom beneath my feet, but waded on.
Standing there I felt starkly primitive. I tossed my head, my hair swirling about my shoulders, its ends tickling the cleft of my buttocks, and stepped deeper into the water. As it rose and lapped at the juncture of my thighs, I felt a tingle of anticipation start there and rise to linger warmly at my nipples.
I turned to face upstream and let the soap float against the hollow of my loins, held there by the caressing pressure of the current. I dipped my cupped hands into the water and brought them up from hips to breasts, resting there until my body ached with the urge for fulfillment.
I picked up the soap and ducked under the water till my hair was soaked. I soaped my hair thoroughly then ducked under again to rinse. Then I stood and soaped my body, caressing the sensitive areas of my flesh, lingering over the lonely bud in my pussy. I turned, and there was Rod, standing with his mouth agape.
"Hi, honey. Just a minute. I'll be right out." I tossed the soap to the bank near his feet and let the waters of the brook close once more over my head, hiding me from his shocked view, hiding too the laughter that had risen unbidden to my lips at the sight of his fallen jaw.
Staying out of sight, I swam a few short strokes, letting the flow of water sweep off the soap, before I rose fresh clean and dripping.
His eyes bulged as he licked his lips and stammered, "Wh-what are y-you d-d-doing?"
"I just thought I'd take a bath while I was waiting for you, honey. Do you want one too?" My voice dripped sweet innocence.
"N-no! No! You're naked!"
"Of course. You can't take a bath with your clothes on, now can you?" A smile played across my lips; I was enjoying his uneasiness. "Does it bother you?" I asked, stepping onto the shore and moving slowly toward him, sweeping back my hair.
I came closer, till I could reach out to take his hand and hold it against my hip. "Maybe it'll help if you get undressed, too. Then we can both be naked. It feels so good!" I let go of his hand and spun once around, stopping so my breasts bumped his arm. I pretended to lose my balance and fall, but his arm caught me before I had hardly started, his hand landing on my right breast.
As I slumped in the protective circle of his arm, he gave a squeeze, and dropped me like a hot potato. This time I really almost fell, but caught myself and took his hand again. "Look, honey, you don't have to be so shy. Come on, let's sit down and talk."
"We can't. It's not right. What if somebody came by and saw us-youlike this?"
"How can it not be right? Why do you think we're built the way we are?" Still determined, I pulled him down on the mossy bank and covered his mouth with mine. We had kissed before, but never like this.
My tongue forced its way past his teeth. He responded, as if he had done it before, but had thought me too precious to risk offending. His arms went around me as he forced my tongue back and explored my mouth, tickling my palate and gums till I writhed upon him, rubbing against his manly swelling.
"Mmmm," I sighed. "That was nice. Let's not stop there." I ran my hand down his chest and stomach till I came to that bulge that had pressed so hard against me. I wanted to feel it, in my hands, my mouth, my aching cunt. I gripped it tightly through his pants, massaged it firmly in my fingers, heard him moan.
As I unbuckled his belt and pulled the zipper, I sighed into his ear. "Now isn't this more comfortable, Rod? Oh, it's so big, so lovely!" I had it out now, weighing its heavy length in my hand, feeling the need-swollen balls in their taut bag. I caressed the turgid staff, pulling its fleshy hood back from the swollen head, tickling it with my fingernails, sliding my hand up and down its lovely length, then across his lower belly and onto his thigh as I nipped his earlobe and swabbed his earhole with the tip of my tongue.
He groaned and tried to roll away, pushing at me, saying, "We can't do this, Penny! It's not right!"
I held him back and threw myself across him to still his protests with my urgent mouth and tried to unbutton his shirt. My frantic fingers were less than useless, but as the swollen lips of my dripping love cup pressed against his staff in our struggles and enfolded its length in moist entreaty, he let out a mighty moan of surrender, threw his arms about me, and our mouths met again.
"Oh, Penny, you're beautiful! I love you! I don't care if this is wrong. It's glorious!" He released me, his hands flying to his shirt, tearing it off. I pulled down his pants but was stopped by his shoes. I ripped those off, yanked his pants the rest of the way, and threw myself on his now bare body.
My stiffened nipples pressed into his chest and his arms embraced me, one hand sliding urgently over my hip and ass, pressing me against him. I rolled from him to lie by his side, our mouths still locked, so my roaming hand could explore his smooth, warm body.
I finally settled once again on his throbbing rod and caressed it as before. My mouth left his and tracked along his body-kissing, nipping, licking. My tongue delved deeply in his navel and, as he squirmed in response, his hands stroked over my shoulder and back, dived beneath an arm to cup a thrusting breast and finger the rigid nipple, sending thrills of pleasure through my body. I quivered, and he wrapped his fingers in my hair to hold my face against him.
When I reached his groin I dallied, kissing his swollen glans, tongue-toying with the slit that split it, and, inspired by its manly taste and odor, moistened it with my gently laving tongue and impaled my throat on its splendid length. I could feel the throbbing distension at the back of my throat; my nose just brushed his curly hairs. I enfolded it, caressed it, pressed it with my cheeks as I suctioned it till he groaned and writhed and bore down my head with his hands.
I would not let him come, but toyed incessantly, stopping when his heavings foretold imminent eruption. Finally, I slowly let him go, drew my head away, and stretched myself out full length beside him again.
His arms closed around me. He threw one leg over mine and pushed me back till he could lie upon me. His moist prick slithered across my thigh as he slid down to kiss my throat and breasts. I cupped one, held it for his lips, felt them close around the nipple, teeth rubbing, grating on that fleshy nubbin till I was ready to scream with the agonizing pleasure of it.
"Ahhh! Harder! Suck it harder!" His tongue complied, rasping over the distended tip, stimulating it even more, sucking till I felt it would explode.
"More!" I cried. "More! That feels so good." I moaned as his head twisted over my chest, switching from breast to breast, kissing, sucking, biting gently at one while his hand fondled the other. I tossed my head from side to side and squirmed my torso beneath his delightful weight.
His hand glided down, leaving the titillations of my breasts to fondle the soft hairs of my mound and caress the sensitive skin that edged my loving slit. His finger dipped into the crevice and found the tender twig that stands guard at the gates of love. He rubbed it, pinched it, soaked it in the freely flowing juices of my pussy. I was ecstatic! I screamed aloud in joyful agony.
"Oh, Rod! Stop, stop, no, don't, come here, here," I moaned, spreading my legs and pulling his weight in between them, reaching down to grasp his staff, pulling it toward my waiting cunt, guiding it to the goal.
With a sudden thrust he slid through my fingers and came to snug and welcome rest deep within me. I kept my hand in place, fondling his balls till he thrust again, sending a bolt of ecstasy through me.
I slid both arms around his waist, ran my fingers up to his shoulders and held them there. I held him tight and arched my back to force him out a little. Then I straightened and bucked my hips, forcing him so deep I could feel the pressure on my womb. I tensed my muscles, squeezed him till he groaned and began to move, plunging and withdrawing, his shuttling organ nearly flying from my lustful receptacle when I relaxed and suddenly released my grip.
He powered in again though, and kept it up till I cried out my joy in the first of many orgasms. On and on he went. His power seemed endless. Again and again and again I peaked, losing count of the number of times as his lubricious friction stroked my nerves to constantly blazing joy.
On he went, till my strength was almost gone and it was all I could do to hold on with arms and legs and occasionally spasm my love for him, till as joy began to black out the world, I felt him stiffen, race madly once again and stiffen in his final throes as he poured out his burning tribute.
I summoned a final spasm in reply, gripped him tightly with legs curled about his hips, heels pressing his buttocks down, holding him in as far as I could while my terminal contractions drained him dry.
Finally we slumped, side by side, breathing deeply, gasping, recovering. His prick had quickly shrunk to nothing, resembling now a limp, soggy noodle. I put my hand to it, gently fondled it, pressed against his side, my thoroughly bedewed cunt against his hip, and snuggled my face into his neck. He softly cupped a breast, nuzzled my hair and ear.
"That was wonderful, Rod," I sighed. "Do you really think it's such an awful thing to do?" I certainly didn't. I was warmly relaxed now, no longer chary of his possible response, enjoying the confident glow of satisfied love.
His voice was soft, unhurried, blurred as he answered me. "I could hardly dare to think of you that way, honey. You seemed so good, so ... so pure. The only girls I've ever known that would do anything like that were pretty cheap. And you're not."
"Oh, sweetie. Didn't you think I might love you, and want to do this, because of that? A girl doesn't have to be cheap to want to go to bed with the right man." It wasn't quite as noble as I made it sound. Right man or no, my early training had been such that I was ready, almost any time, to take on almost anyone.
"If I'd thought you'd want it, I'd have made a pass the second time we met, Penny, but I thought you just wanted to learn how to fish. Maybe 'cause there isn't much else to do around here."
"Silly! I liked you as soon as I saw you. You're so gentle and kind." My laughter bubbled forth as I pressed myself more closely against him and squeezed his drying, sticky noodle. "And just in case you're wondering why I'm so forward, I'll tell you. My parents gave me a real good sex education." A note of bitterness must have crept into my voice then; I felt it, and he started to turn to look at me. I held him down, though, and kept his attention on the business at hand. "I've had just enough experience to know what it's all about. I love it and you and I want you again."
I tongued his ear and kissed his cheek, ground my mouth on his and traded tonguing stabs. I pulled away, rose to my knees, never losing my hold on his stiffening member. I moved to straddle his thighs and bent my head to tongue its tip, engulfed, enfolded it. The mingled sour and salt of our juices was a strange, intriguing taste. It fired my blood, made me moan as I chewed the now swollen head and rigid length of his throbbing manhood. My hands and lips massaged him till he groaned and tugged at my shoulders.
I had to answer his pleading cries, and I loosened my grip, moved forward till I was resting on his belly, bent and kissed him. Then I offered my breasts to his loving mouth. He pulled me down, engulfing one breast so far I felt the nipple flicked by his uvula. His lips and tongue felt exquisite. I moaned and pulled away, swung the other one over his mouth, lowered it to be treated in the same wonderful way.
He released that tit at last and seized the nipple between his lip-covered teeth, pressing and rolling it, sucking, vibrating it with his tongue. I raised my hips, seeking the tip of his probing rod, found it, gripped it, and guided it into the seething channel of my love.
I plunged down, hips bucking wildly as I sought to keep his lips in place and still impale myself upon him. He moaned and gasped as I succeeded, sinking on him till I could feel the hairs of his sack tickle the slippery lips of love. I groaned and ground myself against him, mouth seeking his and opening wide. Our teeth grated with the pressure of that kiss as our tongues entwined and he began to pound against my grinding groin.
I pulled erect and hauled my legs beneath me so that I knelt astride him, breasts thrust forward to meet his fondling hands, head thrown back in ecstasy, filled with the glorious sensations of his pounding organ. It slowly withdrew and plunged, feeding my joy with its throbbing pulse, speeding up to spend its momentum on the resilient walls of my receptive well, my only possible response the steady clenching of my muscles, pressuring, increasing the friction between us till my screaming nerves blotted out the world.
Slowly, the initial thrills died away and left me capable of some initiative, able to rise and hover while his organ lingered at the gateway of love. When he ceased his tentative strivings to reestablish our deeper contact, I relaxed my legs and dropped upon him, letting him rush in again.
One last time he powered against me, and I gave vent to one long unending scream of orgasmic joy. He clasped my buttocks and held me down while he pushed in to his limit and held there, exploding in great gushes of love, saturating the thirsty walls of my tenderly throbbing cunt.
I collapsed upon him as he relaxed, sighed and moaned. I swooned, so great was my happiness. When I awoke, he had not moved. His eyes were closed. His breath was slow. He was asleep.
"Rod! Rod!" His eyelids flickered, opened. "Rod! I love you. I do!" Urgently, I kissed him. He kissed me back, hugged me close, and in his warm arms I felt secure, loved and safe. I dropped my head to his shoulder, cuddled close within his protective embrace.
"Oh, Penny! You're really something special. I never dreamed it could be so wonderful."
I blushed. Little did he know ... and suddenly I resolved that if I could help it he never would. Luckily, he hadn't met my parents yet; if I could just keep him away from them there would be no reason for him to find out.
I rolled away, keeping my face hidden. I felt that it must have shown my thoughts. His utterly limp prick flopped as I released it. I sat up and stretched, saying, "I'm going to wash off a bit, honey. Want to join me this time?"
He did, and we stepped into the water together to wash off the stains of our earthen bed. He had lost all of that timid shame that had marked our meeting and now he openly admired my form and flaunted his own, secure in the new sense of love so recently instilled. No longer the victim of my lust, he freely teased and tickled, caressing my hair, my breasts and thighs, a triumphant, strutting male, forgetting who had started this.
He took the lead and we played and splashed and laughed, leaving the water only when our rising passions made us realize it was getting late and that we both should be getting home. I knew my parents wouldn't mind if they knew, except that that would upset my own resolve. His were apparently a different story.
We dressed, delaying to touch the places recently revealed, so sweetly loved. He was entranced by the newness, I by the difference in character between Rod and all the others I had known. Even Bob could not match Rod in gentleness and consideration, erotic fervor and cooperation.
We didn't talk much as we walked back to the road, where we parted for that day. There really wasn't much to say that hadn't been said much more effectively and satisfyingly on that mossy bank. I knew we would see each other again.
While the weather stayed warm enough to make love outdoors, we met again many times. The bank of that pool remained our favorite spot, but we found others too. Sex wasn't our only game, though; we would lie still in each other's arms, gazing into one another's eyes, talking, but always ending by exploring each other's bodies and all the new ways of pleasure we could find.
In the quiet aftermath of love we were much more ready to listen than we had been before discovering each other's bodies. Then we had, like so many other people in this sad world, been too often thinking of what we would say next to really hear the other's words. But, after such enervating activity, we didn't have the strength to do more than listen. Of course, at first all there is to hear is one's own heartbeat, or his, but eventually one of us would summon the energy to speak. The quiet mood of oneness that so often follows the act of love between two people who are in love fosters communication. At least, we found it so.
I found out who Rod really was: a troubled fellow, a loner, following the common path from a misfit childhood to loneliness. Unable to hold his own in the games and fights of children, his only athletic ability his skill in fishing, he'd become a frequent underdog and scapegoat. He had learned to avoid the fights and rough sports in which he never excelled, turning to books and quiet games instead, lonely things which needed only a few friends. His gentleness had grown out of this, a reaction against the conflict he could not handle.
I could never imagine how he and the army would get along. Though the draft was inevitable, it was at odds with his gentle nature and I thought it must drive him to rebellion sooner or later. He would not be able to cooperate, might well flee, unable to avoid the fight in the ways he had developed in his life. I hated the thought that he might leave me eventually, particularly in such circumstances.
As I learned to know him, I came to love him even more. His flamboyant imagination, his gentle character especially, grew precious to me. Rod seemed what my stepfather might once have been. It reached a point that fall where I thought that I would die if anything happened to him, and I sometimes found myself wishing that I could feel the same for my stepfather. I had never known my real father. I had been too young when he died, but I thought of and loved John as my father. Real or not, it made no difference to me. But, real or not, his treatment of me was unusual.
Rod came to know me, too. I never told him much about my family life; I let him think my sexual skills were due to an earlier lover. I didn't mention Bill's name, of course, for he was still in our class and I feared some kind of embarrassing scene if Rod knew and they were to meet. I kept my secrets, even though I came to know Rod well and think him unlikely to be violent.
At school, my classmates were surprised. "Poor Penny," I'd heard them say in the past. "So stand-offish. She doesn't care for anyone." They were a little dismayed by my sudden change, shown by Rod's hand in mine, the look, the touch, as Rod and I walked in the halls and studied together in our study halls.
After a while, his constant attentions had the unexpected effect of increasing my popularity. I was asked for more dates than ever before, though I always turned them down. At school dances Rod was often cut in on, and I always tried to cut those dances short. I was too much in love to want to waste a minute. I wanted to spend every possible minute with him, studying, talking, or loving, in all the myriad possible ways. I became insatiable, my body hungering for him all the time, ceasing only with the satiation of mutual exhaustion.
He was just as bad. One night, while driving home from a basketball game in his Volkswagen, he was stroking my thigh when our hunger became unbearable. He pulled into a side road to park and we clambered into the back seat, tugging at our clothes to reveal the targets of our lust.
As soon as we were curled nudely into our snug niche, his mouth fastened on my breasts, hands caressing my hips and thighs. While with one hand I cradled his head lovingly to my bosom, I seized his organ and pulled it toward me, twisting, angling my pelvis until I could feel him surging against my hungry cunt.
With my knees beneath my chin and his arms wrapped around my thighs and back, I could only move those muscles that can so delightfully pressure a man. As he shuttled in and out of me I put them to such good use that he soon cried out and sent his seed spurting forth, long before I was ready.
I refused to let him go, squirmed pulsing against him, tried to turn his shrinking retreat. My legs unfolded, wrapped around him, held him close, pressed his slowly reawakening prick into the embrace of my avid pussy. This time, half drained, he lasted longer, and though I treated him as kindly as before, I peaked more than once before he spent his charge again.
We lingered long in close embrace, fondling our passion softened flesh till we knew we had to leave.
There were other basketball games, and dances, and many dates that ended in that way for us throughout that winter. We never took our love into either of our homes-he because someone was always home, me because I could not bear to let him see the site of my degradations.
There were only two orgies that fall and winter. The first was at Thanksgiving and was just as the others had been: unenjoyable, except when I could be with Bob, and even that was not as good as it had been, now that I knew what love could be with Rod. Charley and Jim were as coarse as ever, but they weren't unusually nasty that time.
The second orgy, held at New Year's, was another matter. Charley announced it suddenly, just after Christmas, when I had already promised Rod that we could have that night together. We had intended to go to a motel and celebrate our love in a proper bed for the first time. Instead I had to call him and say that I was sick. It was hard to keep him away, but I managed, though it hurt me terribly.
Our unions that last week had a desperate intensity that we had never seen. Rod couldn't have known the reason why, but I felt as if these must be the last acts of love we could ever enjoy. I clung desperately to him, accepting all he could give, demanding always more, though never saying why.
When the night of the orgy came, the call that cancelled our date threw me into deep despondency, left me dark and surly, drinking much more than I was used to, even at these illicit gatherings, so that when Charley called me to him I was so plastered I couldn't see straight. I wasn't surprised when he pulled me down with him to the floor, no foreplay and no delay, no respite from his upright tool, waiting, throbbing, beginning to pound even as I touched its tip. He was already horny, having ignored me while he dallied with my mother, preparing himself for the grand assault and leaving her to summon me.
So far there was nothing unusual about his brusque style. He didn't often try to excite a woman to match his lust. But when he called, "Okay, Jim. Now's your chance. Shove it in, man!" and I felt a sudden pressure on my asshole, I realized that something was amiss. But I was helpless; Charley's strong arms held down my chest and Jim's strong grip steadied my buttocks, spreading their cheeks for his penetrating thrust. I felt his snaky organ wind through my bowels as I lurched from his weight and a sharp pain radiated from my violated barrier. The discomfort didn't last, though.
I could hear my nerves begin to sing in spite of myself to the tune of their double intrusion, keeping time with the pumping and pounding of their united rhythm, but I felt no pleasure. My black mood and dislike for my two despoilers robbed the act of all its potential ecstasy. Though my nerves sang, my brain was cold.
My lack of response must have frustrated them, for when they had expelled their slimy inundations they thrust me away and seized Harriet. She seemed to enjoy this doubled joy more than I, and truly seemed to satisfy them with her wild gyrations on the double pivot, for when they were done they lay limp upon the rug, drained and exhausted.
I was soon able to slip off to the bathroom, where I showered off their foul stains, escaping then to a lonely bed, falling asleep, to dream that Rod was with me.
For the next few days I was barely able to face my dear Rod. It seemed that this perverse new twist had stained me, though I had gotten used to all the other degradations visited upon me at the family orgies. They had even become repetitious and lost their capacity to wound me. The worst of it was that I could not tell Rod. His very presence helped, but I felt the need to unburden myself. My plight was my family's, and I thought that to talk of it to anyone would be to cast us all down into disgrace and ruin. Only Bob was a possible confidant, for he shared the plight, and to some extent my thoughts, but I couldn't talk to him. Now that I had Rod, it would be too much like betrayal.
I could not be sure that Rod and I would not fall out one day, and the secret would then be out. I had the utmost faith in his discretion, as long as we remained in love. But I was not sure that telling him of my shame might not drive him away in disgust.
CHAPTER SIX
In time my humiliation faded and our love once more took on the joyous tinge of the old year.
As spring advanced, we left the car for the newly greening grass and stained our skins with its fresh juices. Since the brook and its surroundings were still too cold, we found another favorite place, a daffodil-spotted hillside by an old abandoned farm. There, in the warming sun of afternoon, we made frequent love.
We would take our books there on weekend afternoons and learn more of each other than of our texts. Still, we learned, and our love inspired our studies; we loved and read, and read and loved, and our love lubricated the paths of learning.
As school drew to a close and graduation neared, the time for the annual senior class outing approached. This year it was to be a trip to Bar Harbor. The plan was to stay in a motel; Rod insisted that we both go and that one of us at least should try to get a single room, so that we could recapture our lost New Year's opportunity.
It wasn't difficult. My parents must have had some inkling of my reasons, for they backed me up when I told Mrs. Maury, one of our chaperones who handled such details, that I could not sleep in company, that to rest well I had to be alone; I had my way.
We left on a Friday afternoon in school buses. It was only about an hour's drive, so we arrived with plenty of time to unpack before dinner. There was just time enough for me to show Rod where my room was and kiss him once inside the door. It would be a long time till lights out, when he would be able to sneak past the chaperones to me.
When we had all assembled in the motel restaurant and taken our seats at the long tables provided for our party, I found that Bill was seated just across from Rod and me. I had seen a little of him in the past year, and had had no reason to worry about what he might do, but now he was watching me. Throughout that meal he kept his eyes on me, darting his gaze away only when Rod threatened to catch him at it. He wore a speculative look, as though he were wondering how he might take up where we had left off. I had no sympathy for his hopes; I had not liked him before, had submitted only out of need, and I liked him less now.
He had, from what I'd heard, turned into the sort of slimy creature that stands at the bottom of stairways, hoping to get a look up some poor girl's dress, that is all hands on a date, having no thought for anyone but himself.
When he left the table at the end of the meal, with a last, long, pawing look up and down my body, I shuddered, shaking off the unclean feeling his knowing gaze had given me, and sighed in relief that he was gone.
The evening was spent in clearing up the final plans for the next two days, forming our groups and making sure that everyone knew the schedules.
When that was done we separated into small groups around the record players and radios in some of the rooms to talk and dance a while. Rod and I formed part of one group, though we were impatient for the rest of them to get tired and go to bed.
Finally, we broke away and went to our own rooms to pretend to go to bed. It was not, however, till about 1:30 that the halls grew quiet with the end of the incessant comings and goings of our classmates.
Eventually Rod was able to leave his room and come to me. I was waiting at the door and quickly drew him in when he knocked.
We embraced quickly, the fabric of my nightgown rubbing the tips of my breasts into turgid want, his hands fingering my spine, nails scratching thrills into my skin. We hastened to the bed for whose comfort we had yearned so long and he tore off my gown while I pulled at his pajamas to bare his beloved flesh. When we were both naked, I pulled him down and hugged him to me.
Our limbs entwined, lips pressing lips, and almost immediately I felt his touch upon my moistening pussy. I tipped up my hips and hungrily inhaled him, held him close and quiet as we stroked and murmured the soft words of love, luxuriating in the smooth coolness of the sheets under our limbs.
The pleasant pangs of our linkage became more imperiously demanding, driving us into a surging, pulsing motion that soon carried us to the very brink of completion. There we lingered, letting the tides of passion fade away and return, again and again, over and over, till our desires raged and would brook no more delay. We went crashing up and over the summit, coasted slowly down the other side, and lay, still closely intertwined, panting in the afterglow.
When he had faded from my relaxing grip, I pulled away and took his organ in my hand, fondled and kissed it, teased it till it rose again. His hands and lips responded, focusing their caresses on my breasts, drawing my firming nipples into his mouth to titillate and tease me back to the edge of desire. He kept that up, it seemed, forever, one hand slowly, gently, stroking the lips of my loving cup, two fingers insinuated between them, moistly exciting my soft membranes, pinching and rubbing my clitoris.
Soon we both were gasping with renewed lust. Unable to restrain myself, I yielded to the pounding insistence of my blood and struggled free, swinging to straddle his loins and grasp his member, holding it upright beneath my hovering, hungry cunt. I sank to touch it with swollen lips, and smoothly glided it the length of the glistening groove. He bucked, tried to thrust it in, but I was not ready. I rose, just enough not to lose contact, still sliding it along me. I was enchanted with the sensation, a million slippery volts trickling up my spine, knowing it was within my power to end our anticipation at any moment.
I hovered, touching, touching, gazing on our slight contact. His spearpoint nestled in my folds stirred my blood so it danced to strange wild rhythms. I found it hard to breathe; my heart was pounding; my cheeks burned with lust.
When he raised a hand to touch my cheek and pinch a nipple, he released the dammed flood of desire. I rose up, and, holding him stiffly aimed at the very center of my being, let myself fall directly on him. I nearly fainted with the first rush of sensation from that sudden impalement, but I soon recovered and began to raise and lower myself upon him, occasionally drawing him out to watch his glowing head, then rushing down again. He moaned at this and began to meet me with his own thrusts.
Our previous orgasms prolonged our capabilities and we were able to keep this up for over an hour, finally rushing to a tremendous crescendo of a climax that left us both exhausted, emptied of all desire for the present. We fell asleep, still joined, still clasped in the arms of love.
I had set the alarm for an early hour, well before we expected to have to worry about other people in the halls. When it went off, I found myself being slowly inflated by his awakening organ and we quickly appeased our appetites before he went back to his room. I returned to bed then and, dozing, dreamed of the many more such wonderful nights ahead in our lives. The revery had to end, though, when the halls became alive and we were all called to start the day with breakfast.
All day long, while Rod and I, together with others, explored the island, Bill dogged our steps. The one sour note of our trip was his presence in our group. He stayed close to us all the time, never, it seemed, taking his eyes off me, and, every time that it looked as if Rod were moving away, to explore on his own, or to ask some question of our ranger guide, Bill moved closer. Fortunately, Rod was never out of sight and always returned soon, always failing to see Bill fade back to a safer distance.
I didn't say anything to Rod. I feared that if he were to confront him, stories would be told that I wanted kept quiet, and so I said nothing, though Bill's intent look and insistent approaches scared me so much that I could hardly enjoy our excursion.
That evening several of us were sitting in the motel lounge before a warm fire, keeping off the chill that so often pomes with a June night in Maine. Rod and Bill weren't there; I hadn't seen Bill since dinner and Rod had gone to the men's room. I took the opportunity to ask one of the other girls about Bill.
"Celia, what is it with Bill? He's been following me around all day. Never saying a word, but always there."
She looked up from her boy friend's head, resting in her lap. "Oh, I dunno. His girl friend ditched him about Easter time. About time she did, too."
"What do you mean?" I thought I knew, but I wanted to know what they thought of him; how he appeared to others.
"He's a nasty guy, he is," put in another girl, Linda, looking up with a petulant snarl. "He's mean. I bet he'd pull the wings off flies and feed 'em to spiders."
"He's rough, too," said Celia, grimacing a little. "I had a date with him a while ago, and he couldn't keep his hands to himself." I thought she sounded a bit smug, but Linda interrupted my speculations.
"I had a date with him once, too. I was pretty horny when I went out with him and when he started pawing I let him go on just as far as he wanted." She halted the spate of words to remember, a vindictive smile playing across her lips. "He doesn't give a damn about a girl, though.
It was just wham, bam, thank you ma'am, and if you still wanted more, then the hell with you. And I hear, you know, that he doesn't always let a girl get away from him if she doesn't want to go all the way."
"You mean," I said, trying to look shocked, "he rapes the poor girl? I hope he isn't thinking of me that way." I did hope so, too, though I knew what a cold, unfeeling bastard he was much better than they could ever know. I knew what a bastard Bill was, all right, but I'd hoped that he might have improved, in technique at least, or tact.
"I don't know, Penny," sighed Celia, a bit regretfully it seemed. "You're awfully pretty, you know. Oh! We'd better shut up. Here comes Rod."
She must have had some suspicion, perhaps some envy, of our relationship, that it went far beyond just going steady, and wanted to spare him pain. She was good, I knew, and this only proved it: she didn't try to break us up by talking on about Bill, try to cut Rod loose for her chasing.
Rod was there, but I had learned all I really wanted to know. It hadn't calmed my fears, but now I knew I wanted Rod beside me that night more than ever.
For two or three hours we sat by the fire and talked, my head resting on Rod's shoulder, his hand lightly and steadily stroking my hair. We talked of the finally ended years of high school, of what we intended to do that summer, of where we would go after that.
College was not for me; I had done fairly well, but not that well; erotic pleasures are distracting. I hoped, though, to be near Rod, who was more fortunate; his grades had been good and in the fall he would be leaving for the University of Maine, to study forestry and fisheries biology.
Our class would scatter. One had been accepted at a school in Wisconsin, another would go to Texas. The rest would be nearer, but still far from their homes. There were only a few who, like me, would not be going on, but would stay to farm, or tend a shop, or join the army and go on from there; some would marry in time and never leave the town.
I envied them all. Though my future seemed bright to them with my shining Rod, the dark secrets of my past, the ugly hold upon my family and the things it forced us to, would always shadow my life.
Since the day had been active and tiring, we all went to our rooms earlier than the night before. Shortly after I was in my room, waiting for the halls to quiet, waiting for Rod. When all was calm and peaceful, I went to the door to listen for his steps. I didn't want to make him wait too long in the hall. Someone might see him.
Soon I heard soft footsteps coming quickly down the hall. They stopped before the door, and I swung it open, reaching for his arm even as he slipped quickly through the gap.
"Come in, honey. Oh, hurry! Ohhh!"
"Shut up, you little bitch!" It was Bill! What was he doing here? "You scream and I'll kill you! You and that Rod! Mooning around all over the place, paying no attention to me at all. And I was your first. Wasn't I?"
His hissing words broke the spell that held me rigid, staring, gaping, and I drew in air. "Wh-wh-what're you doing here? Get out! Out!"
He didn't hear, just went on. "Wasn't I? You don't think so, huh? What's the matter? Am I so repulsive? Do I make love like a dog or something? You sure look like you think so. So maybe I do. Maybe that's why I can't get so many dates. I'm sure you wouldn't have been telling any stories to turn the girls off me, huh? That doesn't matter anyway. I'm not here for a date with you.
"I've seen you and Rod. I've waited outside your house for years, off and on...." I moved, sidling away, and he grabbed me by the flesh of my upper arm. I stifled a gasp, but he went on. " ... hoping you'd come out and look for me again. But no! You stay home, with those parents of yours and their orgies, and then you start meeting this Rod of yours. I've seen you! I've followed you around and seen you! And now I want some too! I've watched long enough. I want to know why you enjoy it so much with him. Have you changed? Or am I so awful?"
His grip on my arm didn't relax, but tightened with every stifled shout. "Oh! Oh! M-my God! You can't! I-I-I'll scream! N-no! N-no! You're hurting me! Let go!" Indignation clogged my throat; I nearly choked on my words, but I didn't want to attract attention if I could help it.
"Maybe I won't kill you if you scream. Maybe I'll just tell everybody just what a slut you are. And what kind of parents you got. And the garden parties they throw. Naah! You won't scream."
Oh, how right he was. Not only Would the night be ruined, but that last threat meant more to me than life itself. If he told, I was sure that I would lose Rod, and more.
He took my acquiescence for granted, and even as I thought those thoughts, he was pushing me down upon my bed, tearing off my nightgown with brutal hands.
He stood back, staring down at my naked body while he lowered his pants and hauled out his distended prick. He laughed and hurled himself upon me, wrenching my legs apart, and, his wrist a bar across my throat to still my struggles, launched his searing invasion of my cunt.
I lay helpless before his onslaught. My soft and tender membranes, parched with terror, gave me only pain from his furious pounding.
But as I lay impaled on his ruthless weapon, I heard, through the soundless screaming in my ears, a light tapping on the door. In sudden, desperate hope, I cried out.
"Ohh! Don't! Oh, it hurts!" I thrashed, trying to throw him off, ignoring his curses and slaps as he tried to quiet me back to at least inert cooperation. That noise, together with the creaking of the bed beneath us, must have been all that Rod needed. Oh, if only he had gone away in silent jealousy, or better, that we had never come on this trip!
But he came bursting through the light door, sending it flying off its hinges, crashing on the floor. He saw what was happening and let out a cry of rage, pounced on Bill and yanked him off and out of me. My biggest feeling just then was not relief, nor fear of what might come next, but pain, as Bill's swollen prick was ripped from me. That pain soon vanished, though, replaced by awe and fear, when I saw Rod holding him up against the wall, pounding his fist into Bill's face, thumping his knee repeatedly into his groin.
"Rod! Stop! Oh, stop!" I tugged at his arm, trying to distract his attention from his target. I must have had some effect, for he drew back, let Bill slump to the floor, groaning in what must have been terrible pain, his face already swelling, his prick in shrunken retreat from his punishment. If only he had been unconscious! But Rod had not been working on him long enough for that, only seconds really, though it had seemed much longer, and his blows had been directed with the inaccuracy of rage.
"You don't know what a slut you got there, do you?" Bill growled. "A regular whore. I had her when she was only twelve. Lord only knows how many others have gotten into her. And you should see the parties her parents give. Ever been to one?" He was panting, gasping, as he recovered, venting his spleen to bring back his strength.
"Everybody out in the back yard balling. We used to watch them from under the hedge. That's where we screwed. She could hardly wait till she was old enough to join the parties herself."
My dear Rod, though, paid no attention, but let out a howl of rage. "I don't believe you, you lying bastard. And you're not going to spread that kind of a tale about my Penny either. Are you?" He pulled Bill to his feet and held him against the wall, waving his fist in the classic threat.
"You let me out of here and I will for sure. If you hadn't busted in I was going to keep my mouth shut, but now you've ruined it. And I'll ruin her." .
These words, whined through obvious pain, filtered through a mask of blood, were the last he ever uttered. Rod shook him, drew back his arm, cried, "Then you're not getting out of here," and hit him right on the nose. His arm began to rise and fall, ending each time with the meaty smack of bone thudding against flesh, with terrifying regularity.
A thin wailing scream seemed to fill the room as Bill slumped to the floor again, a defensively huddled, twitching contortion helplessly trying to resist as Rod straightened him out to pound his head on the tiles, thumbs digging into his windpipe. I screamed, and people, already on their way, seemed to flood into the room before I could draw another breath.
One of the chaperones forced her way through the crowd. "What's going on here? Oh, my God! Someone call a doctor!"
Someone threw a blanket around me, shielding my nakedness. I couldn't talk, but Rod could. "I heard Penny scream and busted in. He was raping her."
"What the hell did you do that for?" someone asked. "You coulda hollered."
"I was only going to beat him up, but he started saying things, threatening her. I hope he's dead!" He fell back into a chair, realizing the enormity of what he'd said and done.
My only thought was that he had not deserted me. He had come like a knight to the rescue.
He raised his head from his hands, looked straight at me, eyes wide and clear, free of guilt. "I don't care, Penny. I don't care if it's all true. I love you."
It didn't seem long till the doctor arrived. Someone had apparently called the police too, for they were right behind him. He bent over Bill immediately, checking his pulse.
"This boy's still alive, officer, but you'd better call an ambulance right away. He might not make it if we don't get him to a hospital." The audience gasped and, unnecessarily, he added, "He's in pretty bad shape. Who did it?"
Rod raised his head and slowly turned to remark, dully, "I did."
The police chased all the spectators out, including our chaperones, who were the most reluctant to go, and then asked the motel manager for an empty room. They took Rod to it for questioning, telling me to get dressed; they'd be back for me soon.
In the hour that I waited, Bill was removed, and I could hear the wondering whispers in the hall from those who stayed near to watch. I welcomed the distraction of the police returning.
The sergeant entered the room, leaving a man at the door. "It's all right, Miss. He told us the whole story. Now, just a few questions to confirm it with you; and then, I'm afraid, we'll have to take him into custody. I'm sorry. He was your boy friend, wasn't he?"
"He still is." He was very sympathetic, very patient with my tears, and he got all the information from me that he wanted, even the fact that Bill's threats were based on truth. My dread secret was out at last!
"Well, Miss, we'll try to keep this quiet. There's no need for a scandal unless it has to be brought out at the trial."
"Trial? What trial? Rod just beat him up, didn't he?"
"I'm afraid not. We received word a little while ago that he died on the way to the hospital. Your friend will at least be charged with manslaughter."
CHAPTER SEVEN
In spite of the sergeant's promise, the word somehow got around. Even the next day people were looking queerly at me, and I didn't think it was all because of what had happened to me. When we boarded the buses for the trip home, I found myself sitting very much alone. Everyone was very carefully looking everywhere except at me.
My eyes were red from crying and loss of sleep. Rod had been taken away and I was alone. Maybe they only wanted to keep me from having hysterics, but I thought it was the first step in casting me out, in making me a pariah. All the talk was of what a good time we had had on Saturday and of what a shame it was that the trip had to be cut short, but I thought I heard whispers around me. I couldn't make them out, any more than I could the night before, but I suspected the worst. I was sure the rumors had started flying.
Mrs. Maury drove me home from the school. As we turned into the driveway the sounds of revelry floated out to us on the afternoon air. Suddenly I knew, and depression struck. An orgy was going full blast. My parents couldn't have heard the news.
My chaperone insisted on going in first. I hadn't the heart to stop her. Better that they know the rumors are true, I thought. Better that than everlasting suspicion.
Numbly, I sat in the car and watched her round the corner of the house. And I heard her scream of outraged astonishment.
She came running back, yanked open the door and hauled me out by the arm. "You! Do you know what they're doing in there? You cheap hussy! I wasn't sure I should believe those stories this morning. I didn't want to. But now! I'd like to see you all ridden out of this town on a rail! Poor Rod. Going to jail for defending a thing like you!"
Practically spitting in her fury, she threw my bag at me, flounced into her car and drove off, spraying gravel in her haste to leave such a den of iniquity behind. I remember that her upper lip was curled and her nose was wrinkled, as if she had smelled something rotten.
When I trudged into the yard with my overnight bag, even Charley recognized that it was not a time to stick around. He led the departure, with a wink and a leer for me as he went. Perhaps he thought it would cheer me.
When all had gone, I roused myself enough from my depression to tell my now-clothed parents, "They know. Everybody knows. Remember Bill, Papa? He tried to rape me last night. He did rape me. Rod caught him at it. But you don't know Rod, do you? He's my boy friend. We were in love. I never told him about Charley and the orgies and me. I thought he wouldn't love me if he knew. But now he knows. Bill told him. And he threatened to tell everybody unless Rod let him go on with the rape. So Rod beat him to death, and now he's in jail, and the police know, and someone's been spreading rumors, and Mrs. Maury saw you, and now everyone knows it's true."
I burst into tears and threw myself into my stepfather's arms. He cradled me, stroked my hair, tried to comfort me. He wasn't very successful. I wasn't crying for myself alone, but also for Rod and them.
Mama went for coffee. She thought it would sober us all up, meaning, I suppose, mainly them, but it would help bring me out of my mood, calm me so I could talk more reasonably. While she was gone, Papa continued to cuddle me, though my tears soaked his shirt, and cupped my breast gently, tentatively, with his hand, thumb rubbing the nipple through the thin fabric of my summer dress.
It helped a little. The conflicting sense of pleasure brought me to a greater awareness of myself, out of self-pity to sadness. I pushed his hand away, not really feeling much like that just then, but I also dried my tears and composed myself as best I could. My voice was still choked up, but the worst was over.
Mama returned with the steaming cups. As she handed us the coffee, she said, "Well, it's out. Maybe now we can get loose of that bastard."
"What do you want to get loose for?" snapped Papa. "You always seem to enjoy yourself pretty much."
"Oh, no, not the way you do," she retorted. "Imagine, seducing your own daughter for his sake! I'm just making the best of a bad deal. But now we can tell Charley to go screw himself for a change."
"Uh-uh, Harriet. No, we can't. You forget, he can still tell about Penny. He could make things a lot worse." He didn't look happy with the prospect.
"I don't care," I broke in, trying to help, trying to rise a little above my own troubles. "Things couldn't be any worse for me. Rod's gone. What does it matter to me what you do now?"
"No, no, honey. What would people think if they knew what we'd done to you? No, we can't run out on you."
We were silent for a moment, and then I told them, more calmly, about the night before. They wanted to know more about Rod, since I had never mentioned him in the past except as an occasional date. I hadn't wanted them pressing me to bring him home for dinner so they could meet him. Inevitably, if he had been made welcome, he would have come by some time when an orgy was going on. I explained all this, and they agreed that I may have been right, but that now Rod had surely shown that what mattered was me, not whatever I'd been forced into, not whatever my parents might be. And so it seemed, but he must have thought Bill had been lying. Why else would he have come to my defense? And what does he think now, now that he knows it's all true.
We went unhappily to bed that night: my parents full of foreboding, unsure of the future, of the way their neighbors would treat them, me in a mood of black depression, alone, deserted, my loving Rod out of reach behind cold bars, already beginning to feel the ostracism that scandal brings in a small town. I didn't, couldn't, blame Rod for it. It wasn't his fault, but mine. If only I could have done something about Bill myself earlier.
We were soon visited by the sheriff, who looked at and around us in a most peculiar way, as though he expected to see horns on our heads or nudes skulking in the background. He came, he said, to offer his condolences on my misfortunes, and to report that Rod was safely locked up, charged for the time being with murder. He didn't say anything about scandal, though he did ask about the absence of friends in the hour of our crisis. His smirk deserved a punch in the nose, but my father only answered that we wanted to be alone with our troubles. The sheriff got the message soon and left.
We soon found, however, that the sheriff hadn't gone far, for during the next few days we could often see him or one of his deputies watching our house. They didn't want to be seen: they lounged behind trees, slept in parked cars, drove by again and again in a disguised van, but on our quiet road extra traffic, an extra parked car, was all too obvious. They waited, but their patience wasn't enough to give them their vice raid.
My father's gas station business fell off sharply; people decided they would rather not patronize a known sex fiend.
When my mother went shopping people turned away from her. Some store clerks wouldn't even serve her, or they'd make her wait till last. She sometimes came home on the verge of tears, ready to curse me for falling in love, Papa for owing Charley, the world for being what it is.
I graduated in stony silence. No applause like that the others got, no praising or hopeful words from the principal handing out diplomas. Just a condemning glare. And more glares all around me. I was glad to get home, to be done with them forever. I thought that I could easily leave them all behind now. I had my diploma. But Rod didn't.
For his heinous crime they expelled him and denied him his diploma.
The situation was already intolerable when Rod's case came up for trial, but it was made impossibly worse when he was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to a year in the state prison.
The worst thing about the trial was his father's sole appearance there. He came just once to speak to him, to tell him he was no longer welcome in his parents' home. They disowned him. No criminal would be tolerated in that family, no one who could kill, and kill for an excuse like me. Rod was heartbroken over this; I could hear his anguished cry from where I sat, a cry much softer than his father's words. And I could see his forlorn, beseeching look as his father left him.
I was in the courtroom when he was sentenced. I had been there throughout the trial; I had to be there, not just because I was a witness; I could not desert him.
I had sobbed out my testimony, following Charley's orders to keep his name out of it, ascribing all the details and initiative of the orgies to my parents, and I sobbed out my love for Rod when I clung to him after the verdict and the sentencing. I had kept away from him through most of the trial, not thinking myself able to face the condemnation I expected to meet. But when I approached him at the end, eyes red from weeks of tears, there was no sign of condemnation in his gaze; only a tender love.
"Don't worry, Penny," he murmured quietly. "It's only a year. Maybe less, if I behave myself."
"Oh, darling. How can you talk like that? Don't you hate me for getting you into this, for ... being what I am?"
"How could I, honey? People get in trouble all over the place. Yours is worse than most, I know, but still, it's not your fault. I just hope all this isn't too hard on you. People can be pretty nasty about something like this.
"I'd do it again, you know," he added. "It doesn't change the way I feel about you. I love you."
"Rod, Rod," I cried, my tears flooding forth afresh as I clung desperately to him. "I love you, too."
"Sorry, Miss." The bailiff touched my arm. "He has to go now. We have to take him away. Come on, Cramer."
They took him away. I watched, desolate, but cheered by his affirmation of love. I would wait! I would! It was wonderful to know he didn't care. But he was gone, imprisoned, because of me. I was still sad, but my parents noticed the difference when I turned back to them.
They were happy for me, happy that my doubts were answered. They had liked what they had seen of Rod too, and I think they would have been more than happy to see me marry him, then or when he was out of jail. I was young, and a year wasn't long to wait for happiness.
My lightened mood lasted only till we got home, though. As we drove into the yard, we were shocked to see, scrawled across the front of the house, on the door, the windows, the siding, epithets mocking our distress: "whores,"
"sex fiends,"
"get out of town before we run you out," and a noose hanging on the doorknob. They had taken advantage of the first time since the tragedy that we had all been out of the house together. No one was in sight, but we could feel their presence. We would definitely have to move.
Rod gone, because of me. Our neighbors hating us, because of me. Life was hardly worth living, for me, in spite of my renewed faith in Rod. I wished I could just go to sleep, awakening a year later to find him waiting.
My parents, too, were depressed. Papa looked dazed. He hadn't believed it could come to this. He'd known that revelation had to come some day, but not so soon, so severely.
But Mama had known. It had to come, eventually, and she wore a look of bitter triumph.
Our home was full of snaps and snarls as our ostracism sank in and frustration and depression shortened our tempers. When Charley called about two weeks after the trial to suggest another orgy, we welcomed it with almost hysterical relief. It would give us a break, let us drown our troubles in a sea of flesh, smother our loneliness in antic madness. That was the way we all saw it, at least, forgetting for the moment that this was the cause of our troubles and all the gaiety belonged to Charley, Jim, and Carrie. Still, we expected relief of a sort from it.
Charley, saying he wanted everyone sober later, put a stop to the drinking after lunch the day after I was introduced to Pig-eye's prowess. He didn't say why, but I thought it might have something to do with the business he had mentioned earlier. Indeed, it seemed I was right, for in the middle of the afternoon all the men disappeared, gathering in a conference room left over from the days when the house had been a hotel.
Shortly afterward, Oscar sent most of us to our rooms. Again, no explanation; we were to wait till called for. The only girls exempted were Heloise, who had been given to Hank, and three of the huskiest girls in our group, who, I knew, were among those who had been there the longest.
Natalie and I passed the waiting time wondering what was going on. We could hear nothing from the rest of the building or the grounds, and Natalie had seen nothing like this in the relatively short time she had been there, though that didn't stop our thoughts from naively imagining special varieties of sexual acrobatics or exotic punishments being visited on Hank for his supposed misbehavior.
However, with nothing but speculation to go on, we soon tired of the game and dozed off.
The rest of the weekend was quiet-just more of the same-poker and drinking and sex. I found the repetitiousness of their sodden lusts boring after a while. There was only crudity. Many positions, but one attitude, except for the incongruously named Pig-eye. Only he acted as if a girl were not a wash rag to be used, discarded, and laughed at. He may have used only one position, but he didn't use it callously. Only he had any gentleness in his soul, though it was well hidden from the casual eye.
Escape from boredom came only in his arms. His gentleness made me want to make him happy, and I tried, and seemed to succeed. He believed in giving as well as receiving, unlike Charley, whose grasping clutch left me cold. It seemed then that only Pig-eye stood between me and whatever fate had been given Heloise.
She never was seen again, and no explanation was ever offered. We had to assume that she'd been taken ill and confined to her room, keeping our suspicions to ourselves. The last we'd seen of her had been when she'd been singled out for the conference.
Only when all had left and we were again alone in our wilderness isolation did we hear an inkling of the truth. The word was passed, a rumor, yet more than rumor. By the time I heard the story it was full blown, rich in all the details of its decadent barbarism.
That business conference had been held to decide Hank's fate. He had transgressed against Charley and his organization in some unknown way. The sentence was death. The three were gravediggers, and when their job had been done, Hank had been garroted at the graveside. Harry, who, in rumor at least, was a doctor, had signed a death certificate saying: "heart attack." I remembered Charley's words with a shudder: "an undertaker and a doctor. We don't need to bother the town." Now those words crawled with ominous undertones.
Even there, the "system of bawder" had to be applied. The undertaker had to be paid. I remembered how hugely Kurt was hung: like a horse, or a bull, a bulging, splitting, battering ram of a man. Given over to Kurt, Heloise had been broken, split by his blunt cleaver, killed, her life drained out to the tune of his pulsing emissions, her body tossed atop Hank's coffin and buried with it.
On hearing this my stomach churned and I wondered if this was to be the way we all would go. Bled like a stuck pig at the whim of a tyrant. Was I to be denied my Rod again? I vowed never to give Charley the excuse he might want. Never would I let him play his cruel games with me. If it ever looked like this was in the cards, I hoped I would be able to run, let my future, such as it might be, go hang, and find Rod, if only for a day.
Kurt was the lowest kind of gangster. His face showed his obedience, his simple tastes, his lack of human sensibilities. He would never care about the woman's fate. Only he would matter, and his master. A brute, and his involvement in this monstrosity proved it.
I asked, and found that Kurt came with Charley every time, as bodyguard and executioner, though the latter services were only needed about once a year, and the tasks he performed then served as object lessons to keep, girls and men in line. I thought it remarkable that he, especially he, could stay in line so long himself. The frustration of denial, the burden of his priapic deformity, should have long ago driven him to rebellion, but a little thought showed me that, coupled with his brutish obedience, his very deformity might help him stay in line. After all, this was the only way he could ever hope to use his prodigious member. Perhaps gratitude for an outlet, however bestial, motivated his obedience and loyalty.
Life was quiet for some weeks after that party. The bizarre funeral had sobered us all and left us watching each other, and ourselves, trying to guess who would be next, and what she would do to deserve it. Our trembling worries ceased only after the second orgy of that winter, when Charley calmed us all by having no second funeral. We knew this meant nothing, that it was no reprieve, but it lent strength to the rumor that it only happened once a year, and that comforted us.
Relief made us all much more lively at this orgy, though except for our greater attention to business, it was much the same as the last. We were so attentive, in fact, that no one earned any censure.
To me, the most important thing that happened was that Pig-eye, again my partner (I think he must have asked for me, since few others repeated their matches), took me into his confidence.
We were in bed the second night of the party and had just finished making love. He must have decided I could be trusted, unlike some of the other girls who, I was sure, would not be above currying favor with Charley. As we lay side by side, snuggled together in the languorous quiet of the aftermath, he began to speak.
"This is quite a set-up Charley has here, don't you think, Penny?" Ever since the last orgy I had been suspicious, sensitive to every nuance around me, and, though his voice was slow and lazy, and might only have been tired from our lovemaking, I thought he might be testing me.
"For some people, maybe," I replied cautiously. "I don't like it. I'd rather be free, doing things my own way, without someone always ready to tell me what to do, and without Kurt around." Trepidation at my sudden daring made me watchful. How would he take it?
"You don't like Kurt." It was a statement. "Not many of us do. Charley's happy to have him around though, good for discipline, keeps the boys in line. Keeps him nicely protected, too." Was he really on my side?
I ventured, questing. "Charley's not so hot either."
"Oh, yeah. You girls all come through him, don't you?"
"Uh-huh. Him and Carrie." I could feel the jubilation creeping up on me. Perhaps Pig-eye could help me get out of there, help me plan, protect me when I was out.
"I don't like 'em either, but what can you do? He knows where all the skeletons are buried, and the only other one who knows is Carrie. He knows where the money is, that's for sure, and I guess that's why the guys hook up with him, but he sure is rough on the people around him." He didn't sound ready to help, and I didn't dare pursue the questions he raised. Too much might scare him, send him to Charley, in spite of his obvious liking for me. I didn't think he was just leading me on, but I had to worry.
"I wish somebody would get rid of him, him and Carrie, both." I sounded plaintive, and he looked curiously at me, as if to say, "What's your special gripe?" Though he hadn't put it into words, I answered. "He caught my parents with a loan, and then he got them to have an orgy with him instead of paying. Then he had them with that and he got me, too. And all because of that, my boy friend's in jail."
"Yeah, he works that way, and it's ugly. If only there were some way to get rid of both of them."
We lay still then, thinking our separate thoughts. I had the beginnings of a plan-a vile, effective plan. He, well, he began to snore as I turned with words of hope on my tongue. Let him snore, I thought. It's probably best to keep it to myself. Then I can spring it on them all. It'll be a big surprise, but my time will come.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Time passed, and I lived only for night, when Eros reigned, or rather those rites of Lesbos that can give a woman relief from care as well as, or better than, any man. I could see how some women could give themselves over completely to these soft pleasures. If all my experience had been of Charley and his kind, I too might have forsaken men for my own sex, but I had the memory of Rod to help me through the lonely days and nights, and keep me from surrender.
I wasn't really loyal to him in every way. I always yearned for him, but sought my release where I could find it. Natalie lacked the hardness and direct way of thrusting to the heart of a matter that a man has, but she could still transport me to the never-never land of love, and I needed that.
Spring came, and the air took on its familiar tang of newly growing things. Bird calls resounded, animals emerged from their dens, and we saw next to nothing of all this, cooped up in Charley's old hotel. All the nature on display for us was in the confines of our walled grounds, though that was quite a lot. Still, no matter how attractive the prison, the prisoner yearns for freedom, with all its attendant insecurity, and uncertainties, and all its blessed variety.
Most of us were content to watch what nature provided, but Oscar wanted the flowers and sent me, among others, to provide them. He called us his yard crew, and we did all the yard work. We spaded and planted, weeded and watered, mowed the lawn and cleared the winter's rubbish from the stream and pool. I enjoyed it; it got me out of the house, thoroughly distasteful by then, and let me breathe the clean fresh air. No musty odors of dust and cooking and too many bodies with the embedded scents of their lusts. Everyone could go out in the grounds, but I treasured the privilege that let me spend all day in nature's clean sweetness.
Usually, that is. Usually, nature was clean and sweet. Only once that spring did we have an orgy, and that once was enough to give the yard a psychic stink that lasted for days. Every tree and bush, every bend and pool of the stream, carried the memory of licentious degradations, saw poor defenseless bodies subjected to countless abominations. Fortunately, though I had to see and feel it, I didn't have to participate.
I had been assigned to Pig-eye again, and, happily for me, he preferred spending that warm day of early spring wallowing in the cold waters of the big pool and basking on its small beach. However, though I was spared the worst of it, I could still see what went on. Their fortunes varied greatly. The unassigned girls were fair game for anyone; the others, well, it wasn't much better for them. There were round-robin parties and single mountings, and one girl was forced to play bee to a line of male flowers, sucking their honey. A tree branch was used for a trapeze, a girl hanging from it while the men took turns supporting her with their pillars.
Pig-eye lay beside me, protecting me from the roaming, hungry, men by his presence. I had drained him well the night before, and we were both content to enjoy the soothing sun as we watched, and marveled at, the imagination of the men, the forbearance of the women.
"I'm glad you like me, Pig-eye. If you didn't keep asking for me, I'd be out there, and someone else would be lying here." Today, more than ever, I appreciated him. "Thank you."
"Mmmm." He spoke slowly, quietly. "I think you know why, Penny. You're the only one who's never looked at me like she was disgusted by what she saw. You looked, sure, the first time you saw me. Who wouldn't? But you didn't look disgusted. More curious, maybe even a little afraid." I was impressed. I hadn't expected him to reveal so much of himself.
"Not afraid. I'd been through enough already so that didn't matter. Mainly, I just wondered how you could ever make love. I found out. Wonderfully." Honesty deserved honesty, even if it was a little cryptic.
"You're not so bad yourself. And thanks." He seemed embarrassed at the compliment. He must never have considered himself a good lover. I suppose only being able to use one position might make a guy think poorly of himself, but he used that position well, better than some men can use the several they like, and I told him so.
We lay there in silence, sweating, both from the sun and in sympathy with the people on the lawn and in the bushes. Only our eyes moved, till at last I broke the silence to rise up on my elbow and say, "Pig-eye, I know why the girls put up with this."
My voice and movement brought his head rolling toward me. "Lousy blackmail. But why do you guys put up with Charley? I shouldn't think he's the kind of a fellow most men would want for a boss, even if he does give them a Moslem heaven to play around in. I know you don't like him, but the way he treated Hank and Heloise last winter, I should think, would make anyone want to quit."
Recklessly I had decided to trust him, to believe he would not betray me. I wanted to know. I needed to know. My plan depended on it.
"Yeah. Sure. Anyone who tries to say anything, or do anything, even just disagreeing with him, they're taking a chance on the same kind of thing. He's done it before. Besides, he's got more on most of us than he does on any of you girls. You know, we join the gang, or get recruited, and we think it's just a regular gang. Rackets and so on. Well, it is, but he collects little bits of evidence on us here and there. If we don't cooperate, or if we try to leave him, he can get us jailed, just like that. If he doesn't bury us here first. He's done that, too."
"Doesn't sound like anybody likes him. Just Carrie, I guess." We were drowsy with the heat of the sun, talking slowly, paying little attention to the world around us, and almost didn't notice the man walking near us, a girl on his arm, but quiet, possibly trying to overhear us. We stopped till he was gone, out of earshot.
"Carrie. Yeah, I guess she does. She's a power hound too, just like Charley. No one else, though. You're right." He was quiet for a minute before going on. "You know, if something were to happen to him, quite a lot of the guys might cheer. I know I would. Only trouble is, all that information's locked up somewhere. We don't know where, only Carrie does. And, sure as hell, if any of us tried anything, she'd see it got to the cops." And if Charley's as clever as he likes to think he is, I thought ruefully, it's probably rigged so if they both die, it gets sent anyway.
My thoughts went on in the silence, considering how to finish Charley, find out from Carrie where the records were, what arrangements had been made, then end her life as well.
My thoughts continued, plotting, planning, wondering-would it work? But soon I realized that our prolonged silence, while my head swam with possibilities, might seem ominous to Charley, if he were watching and listening. I opened my eyes and looked about, seeking some new topic of conversation.
There wasn't anyone around, but when my gaze lit on Pig-eye's waist, a thought came to me, one completely unrelated to those, that had gone before. It pleased me though, because I wanted to please Pig-eye; he stimulated my plots, and hope sprang up when I was with him.
"Pig-eye, have you tried all positions? There might be another one that would work."
"I've tried 'em all, I think. If you're thinking of straddling me, it won't work. It's been tried."
"That's not what I had in mind. But there's only one way to find out. Here, let me get you ready." I reached out to find and hold his limp penis.
"Hey, no!" He jumped and rolled away. "Come on! You got me so pooped last night, I won't be ready again till tomorrow."
"We'll see about that. Hold still!" I reached for him again, rolled him back next to me, his rounded bulk making it easier to roll him, harder for him to struggle.
"Well, all right. But I promise you, you're not going to get anywhere." Fatalistically, he resigned himself to the ordeal.
I squeezed his limp tool, cowering in the furrows, stretched it out till I could see its head, glowering nakedly in my grip, smiled at its blind eye and bent to kiss it gently, talking, teasing, as I did so. His lips parted in a pudgy grin and he spread his legs to make my access easier.
I kissed it more firmly, let it slide in lazy retreat through my fingers, pursued it resolutely, felt it begin to stiffen and rise to meet my prying lips.
As it responded to my efforts, regaining the steel it had lost so pleasantly the night before, it became more sensitive; my teasing tongue and plucking lips evoked low moans of pleasure from him and his own body surprised him by awakening again so soon.
"There, you see, honey? I told you I could do it."
"Ummh, yeah, but what else? Where's your great idea?" He sounded patronizingly scornful, amused at my pretensions, and unbelieving. I could well believe he had looked far and wide for variety, never finding it, but how could he be so sure that he had tried everything?
"You just watch now. I bet I can fit you this way." I turned about to face his feet, drawing them together to make a cushioned bed to lie on, kissed his sausage toes as I maneuvered into the position that I had in mind. When I could feel his engorged pillar pressing against my belly, I knew I was right, knew that soon we would be linked as only man and woman can be. I raised my hips and slid slightly forward to let it flop up to stand between my thighs, caressing the soft and sensitive skin with its bobbing motion. I reached back beneath me, found his turgid prick, raised my hips again and bent it down to meet the waiting grotto. I inserted the head and pushed backward, sending it, in a sudden slippery plunge, as deeply as it would go.
"There! We can't move much, I guess, but there we are." Indeed we were, I crowed, laughing aloud in triumph. I'd known more comfortable positions, but this one had the charm of novelty. I could feel the pressure against the back wall of my channel, titillating the nerves there more vigorously than ever as his bent organ tried vainly to straighten out. His groan, sounding almost pained, told me the kink was having its effect on him too, but I paid no attention, only emphasized my victory by squeezing with all my might, bearing down till he groaned anew and began to slip from my hold.
"All right, all right. You did it, but it hurts, it does. I don't know if it's worth it."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I murmured in secret joy. "Let's see then. Just pull my legs back there." he did, snugging me up against his belly, and sighed in relief as the tension was eased. I could feel the swell of flesh spreading between my thighs, smoothly filling the crack between us. Our angle improved, easing the pressure on him a little.
I lifted my bottom, almost lost him as the fat flowed in to fill the gap and tried to separate us, pressed down again and squeezed to make him moan with joy. I squeezed again, and yet again, and though he could barely move in the grip I held on him, I pushed us both up the slope to ecstasy. He responded by heaving his hips as much as he could, gliding in and out, wearing a new groove in the walls of my channel of love. The frictioned exhilaration of his short, pulsing thrusts almost made me lose track of my own task. I wanted to bring him to fruition on my powers alone. Determinedly, I struggled, bearing down on his pumping crotch, trying to stop his movements with my weight, threatening to slip loose by rising out of time with him. He finally got the message and settled back, hands kneading my buttocks, to let me go on in my own way.
Now that he had left the act to me to carry on, I could only do as before. Our mutual angle was too sharp for me to bounce as I could in other positions with other men. Milking, that pulse and clench of muscle, was supremely satisfying to him, and much more so to me than I had expected. It took time, of which we had plenty, and effort, but it was worth it. I couldn't see his face, but his voice told me all I needed to know. I paced my efforts by his cries, slowing to keep him below the edge, speeding to bring him back, increasing force and tempo at the end to pump him over the cliff in groaning, thrashing happiness.
As he crested, the tension of his passion combined with my rhythmic efforts to melt me into a fiery jelly, unable to go on, quaking with the pulses of his orgasmic emission. His whale-like gasps and snorts died away as he relaxed, slumping into sun-baked immobility. I let my own body relax too, and settled into the trough of his legs in contented placidity, fingering, tickling, kissing his toes till they twitched in protest. When his shaft shrank and fell from my lax grip, flipping out under the tension of half-stiffness like a finger popping from a mouth, I rolled off him and moved to lie beside him, his arm cradling my head, holding me close in happy fatigue.
He murmured words of praise for my imagination, blessed my loving nature briefly, and fell asleep, leaving me free to pursue my thoughts.
For us, the day wound on in peaceful quiet. The merrymakers never came near us, sensing that we wanted to be left alone. I watched them, though, and saw them drop out of the action one by one, till, as dusk approached, we were the only ones left to wend our way toward the house and dinner.
That evening, like the night before, Charley had his way, again calling on my specialty to satisfy him and entertain his friends. Having stayed in the house most of the day with Carrie, he was still fresh. He had watched the rest, of course, in their outdoor orgy, and now that he saw their completely fagged condition, and knew they could do nothing for him except watch, half alseep, he wanted to join them in their repletion.
Accordingly, he summoned me, returning to his favorite appetizer. I knelt and performed my duty, thinking how very vulnerable he was at such a moment, but worrying about Kurt, who watched hawk-like all the time.
It didn't take long to sate him, to make him turn his interest to another, leaving me free to return to Pig-eye's side and to glare hatefully at Charley's satisfied body.
One day near the end of May, I was tending the flower beds along the base of the wall. I had planted them there for an excuse to spend time near the outside, and I was taking advantage of my devious planning then. As I approached one bed, teeming with yellow daffodils and jonquils, and in sore need of weeding, my reveries were suddenly interrupted.
A familiar voice echoed through the stillness. "Hi!" I started, turned, seeking the source.
A face loomed over the ten-foot wall. "Rod!" I shrieked. "My God, what are you doing here?" I blanched, as close to fainting as I had ever been. "You're supposed to be in jail!" Oh, what could I do? I loved him so, and I couldn't leave. I had to stay, or suffer Charley's wrath. My nerve, my resolve, had fled. I had been ready to flee if death threatened, but here was life, and I was paralyzed, torn with the conflict.
"I got out early for good behavior." The blood rushed back to my cheeks as his muscles rippled in the sunlight, pulling him over the wall to land at my feet. His arms embraced me, and the trowel fell from my hand.
"Honey, darling Penny, it's been so long!" Our tears of joy mingled on my cheeks. His arms squeezed out my breath, but I didn't mind. Far from it! He was my all, my world, my savior. It was joy indeed to have him near again.
"Oh, Rod!" I cried. "So good, so good." I kissed him tearfully. "But how'd you find me? Nobody knows where I am."
"Simple, honey." He kissed me back. "You wrote your folks you were going to be in Millinocket, so I came up here and looked around. This was the only place you could have been, so I began to hang around here. I saw you for the first time today, and you wouldn't believe how good you looked. You were heading for this spot, swinging those lovely legs of yours along, so I jumped up on the wall, and here I am." His arms tightened when he stopped, he gazed into my eyes, and our lips collapsed into each other. No more thought, no more talk, no more care. It was enough that he was there.
It was like a dream, a dream of glorious salvation, the prince to the rescue, jumping over the wall, daring the wrath of the ogre, the giant, the dragon, no less wonderful because he wasn't aware of the danger. I wanted to pinch myself for proof that I was truly awake, but I didn't need to.
"Oh, Rod! Rod! Rod!" I sobbed and clung, desperate for freedom, though knowing it impossible for the present.
I sought his mouth with tear-stained lips, clung and kissed, seeking reassurance with my thrusting tongue, not trusting his presence, afraid that at any minute he might vanish.
His tongue met mine, forced it back into my mouth, explored its silken confines, and told me dearly he was there. His fingers, as they traced the contours of my breasts, lingered on the fabric-covered nipples, visited the valleys of my body, told me more. I opened to him, blossoming under his touch like a bud beneath the sun, twisting and turning in his arms to let him reach my most intimate crevices.
His hands searched out and loosed the fastenings of my clothes, while I did the same for him. Soon we stood close in each other's arms, clad only in our pants, screened from the house by bushes.
I knelt, pulled off his shorts, and stood again, to press against him, glorying in the wonder of his body. Slowly, I slid down once more, kissing every remembered pore on the journey. I reached his rising, so long deprived penis, cradled it in my hands, pulled back the hooded skin, and kissed it, licked it, engulfed and hugged it with the pressures of my loving cheeks. I drew my teeth over the sensitive head, tortured his nerves until he drew back and, drawing me to my feet, cried out in happy agony.
"No, no! Let me, my darling. It's been so long!" His head dipped to my breasts, his lips closed about one erect nipple, sucked and licked a while before he bent his knees to seek more sultry grounds of pleasure. Stripping me of my panties, he pressed his face into the dripping junction of my thighs. His tongue dipped into my honeyed cleft, already foaming with desire, circled and flicked my aching clitoris, kindling in me a mighty flame of desire.
I bore down to meet his joyously darting tongue, forcing his face hard against me, bending my knees till he had to draw away to relieve his strained neck. I forced his face to my belly, holding his head in both my hands. His hands, cupping my buttocks, strove to lift me back up, but my weight was too much. I sank further down, felt my plentifully bedewed and hairy mound rub delightfully along his chest, sending shudders of delight up my spine. Still lower I went, till his mouth met and took a nipple. I paused to let him suck briefly, then went lower yet. His purple, bulging head touched the entrance of my lusty grotto; I shifted to align it with the waiting channel, eased down further, and felt him slide smoothly up the well lubricated passage. My thighs met his at last and my motion stopped. I could go no farther.
I hugged him tightly, kissed him fiercely, tried to move upon him. Our position was too cramped, though, and I could only clench his throbbing passion in my tenderly spasmodic pussy. He lay back and let his legs straighten out so I could crouch upon him, impaled on his weapon of love. I bounced on flexed legs, as on springs, and watched his face reflect my love for him and all that he could do for me. His hands clasped my breasts as they swayed above him, squeezing in time with my movements, boosting my pleasure as I fostered his.
The climax neared, and I must have shown it in my ecstatic grimace, for he suddenly sat up, clasped me in his arms, and, as my legs wrapped about his waist, quickly turned to reverse our positions, never losing his penetrating hold in me. He lowered me to the ground beneath his loving weight and slid his hands to my buttocks, bracing himself against my upraised thighs, powering against me with long, gliding strokes, smoothly pushing me up the exhilarating slope to the culminating happiness of long denied joy. We crested, fell, his long pent-up fluids gushing forth to inundate my womb, my love-thirsty tissues gratefully soaking up this expression of his adoration.
Pig-eye and Natalie-their bodies were wonderful to have. But they were stop-gaps; they were good, they were nice, but they were nothing compared to my one true love. Only with Rod did my body, my nerves, my soul, join in the wonderful hymn of praise to love and sex. Only with him could I soar beyond mere pleasure to taste the realm of eternal bliss. I could use my body to make life easier, for myself and others, but only with Rod was it more, was it a song of life itself.
We moaned and cried, and lay, sodden with our sweat, side by side on the soft spring grass, the unweeded flower bed almost within our reach. We were rejoined, happily and with such practiced ease that we might never have been apart, and we kept our intimate contact until I realized in dismay that I should be getting back to the house. I had been gone more than long enough to weed and water my flower bed.
"Oh, Rod, my darling. That was wonderful. To think that life could have been like this all those months if it hadn't been for Bill. I'm glad he's dead, but, oh, if you hadn't killed him." I snuggled closer, trying to forget the need to go. "Do you think you can get a room in town? There ought to be some kind of a rooming house somewhere around there, and you can come out here, and we can get together, like this." I squirmed to massage his flaccidity, but inside I was a little breathless, a little afraid that he'd get mad, want me to go with him then. I tried to hide my discomfiture by rolling a little away and stroking his withering prick. When it began to writhe gently in response I quickly desisted, transferred my apologetic attentions to his chest, stroking, cooing, while I awaited his answer.
"Why can't you go with me now? What's holding you here?" Curious, indignant. How could he know what to say?
"You know, honey. You know what he could do to me if I tried to get away from him and he didn't want me to." I didn't dare tell him about Heloise and Charley's way of handling dissent within the ranks.
"I heard all that story, but it doesn't matter to me, don't you understand?"
"Maybe it doesn't matter to you, but it does to me if he tells it all over the place. It would ruin my parents."
"They've moved, though. He can't touch them. I don't think he even knows where they are. God knows, it took me long enough to find them."
He didn't understand! Would he ever? Perhaps you had to live through Charley's vicious kind of control before you could understand, but I had hoped he would, just from seeing what it had done to me.
"That doesn't matter, Rod. Can't you see? You found them. He'll track them down easily! He's powerful! Look at this place here." I gestured sweepingly, hampered by my position, but determined to show Rod the wealth, the power at Charley's disposal. "He owns it, stocks it with girls he's got under his thumb, like me. He does anything he wants here. Nobody knows, nobody can do anything. He's too powerful!"'
"That's not all, either. When he brought me here, he threatened that if I didn't cooperate, he'd see that something was done to you, like maybe you'd die in prison." Actually, it had been Carrie who had said that, and it had been before I came, but who worries about things like that in the heat of argument? "He could still have you killed, or put back in jail. He knows people, he's got an organization. It scares me, what might happen if we ran off together." I was vehement. I meant my fears, and he seemed to understand at last, if not my fears, then at least that I wouldn't run away just then. His face fell, and he tried to speak. "But don't worry, darling. I think I know how to get loose from here. You'll just have to wait a little while."
"Well, all right, I guess. I'll find a place and come here every chance I get. I hope you can get away sometimes, too. I'll be waiting here for you every day." He seemed resigned, though unhappy with the arrangement. He had reason to be. "There isn't much else for a parolee to do."
"You wait and see, Rod. Everything will be just fine. I've got a plan that'll get us out of here with nothing to worry about at all, except us." I was giddy with victory, my voice ringing with the necessary triumph. He'd given in! We could really hope to be safe now.
We stood and dressed, embraced, and separated, to let him climb a tree that would let him over the wall. The last I saw of him that day was his sad face, sad because he was leaving alone.
The next days were terrible. I kept his presence secret and rendezvoused daily with him, sobbing out the frustration of imprisonment. We released our stored up yearnings on each other's bodies; I forged and tempered the impatient steel of his tool in the fires of my mouth and pussy, quenched it in the juices of my orgasm, and time passed.
He grew impatient, and I had to tell him of the orgies Charley had when he came. He grew jealous that I should be so used and shared, but I kept silent about my plan. It was all I could do to keep him from carrying me off over the wall when we were done with love and I lay inertly in his arms. He didn't really appreciate the danger of Charley's threats, though I did, and I insisted on my plan. All I told him, all that I allowed him to know, was that it would solve all our problems, at least all those that Charley had a hand in. He grew vexed, and left, and stayed away a day, but he returned. He could no more bear to give me up, even temporarily, than I could to see him go. I tried to keep his hope alive with love, and words,, and my obvious confidence in my plan, but I couldn't succeed completely. He waited, but I couldn't calm his daily growing impatience.
CHAPTER NINE
The liquor flowed freely the Friday evening that began the last orgy I was to have in my parents' house. I sat by myself, out of the way, clutching an ever-freshened drink to my bare breast, its icy cold matching the chill in my heart. Charley left me alone that night, only casting an occasional speculative glance my way, kept off by my obvious depression.
After a while the lubricious scenes before my eyes excited me enough to make me leave my lonely corner and approach Bob, who had just finished with Carrie. She had returned to her glass, and Bob, looking for Sarah, had found her impaled on Jim's ropy member. As he headed for the doorway, I planted myself in front of him, cocked my hips, and, thrusting my breasts toward him, said, "Maybe I'll do, Bob?"
"Hi, Penny." He slapped my fanny, slid an arm around my waist. "Not just yet. That bitch pretty well finished me for now. But are you sure you want to? You haven't looked very gung-ho this evening."
"I've had just enough to drink, Mister Considerate, so I can forget my troubles for a while. And I want to forget 'em good. Maybe tomorrow I won't feel so bad. Like maybe I'll feel worse! Like ashamed instead of sorry for myself." Drink made me bold and brash, let my despair drive me to seek such solace as I could, even though it might be only temporary.
"If that's what you want, you should be propositioning Charley instead of me." I didn't want his solicitude. I wanted him!
"Oh, he'll tend to me before this weekend's over. Yessirree! You can be sure of that. He just loves to plant it in some nice young thing. Or have that nice young thing chew him dry. Oh, yes! He'll tend to me all right."
"You've had a lot to drink, Penny. I was going to go lie down for a while myself. Why don't you come along, too? You'll feel better later."
"I sure will, on both counts. I thought you'd never ask me. I wanted to start with you first anyway. Oh, why does a girl have to fall in love? Why can't she just be a bitch like Carrie?"
"I'm afraid I can't answer that," he replied as he pulled me through the door with his encircling arm. We found a bedroom and stretched out on the sheets. I pillowed my head on his broad chest, angled one thigh across his belly, and hugged myself closely to him as the tears threatened to come.
He seemed content to lie there forever, gently stroking my back, murmuring soothing words. But, as the hectic glow of alcohol calmed and settled into a sense of some well-being, I began to caress him too. I fondled his flaccid limpness, crusted with former juices, licked his nipples with the damp roughness of my tongue, kissed his neck, and snuggled closer.
My passions rose, kindled by his warm presence, till they drove out all depression, leaving me aglow with desire. I redoubled my tender kneading of his prick, was rewarded by seeing it stir within my grasp, rewarded it by leaping, turning, straddling his chest and planting a gentle kiss on its swelling tip.
His arms, flung aside by my hasty movement, clasped my hips and pulled me down. I yielded to his urging, wondering what he wanted, started briefly when I felt his lips press against my dewy love-nest, and then let him pull me down to meet his thrusting tongue. When it penetrated, slithering between the folds, flickering over the sensitive flesh, I gasped and bore down harder to let him reach more deeply and salve the neglected surfaces of the core of my being. I only rose again to let him breathe when he nipped my soft skin, making me shriek and jump.
I did find a position, eventually, that let us both pursue our interests of the moment. He could breathe, and I could wallow in the delightful sensations he was arousing in me with his loving and attentive tongue.
I returned his attentions, lavishing all my swiftly rising lust on his weary prick, joying in its slowly growing stiffness. When it had grown its utmost I drew it in completely, began to work at it in earnest, while he swabbed the walls of my love-nest with an urgent enthusiasm. Our pulsing rhythms only stopped when he had driven me to the very heights of happiness, letting me view the scene I had thought beyond my reach since Rod had been taken from me. I crested in beautiful agony, coasted down to lie in grateful sprawl upon him, his throbbing prick tightly gripped in my hand, probing the entrance of my ear. He wasn't Rod, but my feelings were as good. My soul was not involved as with my love, but the symphony sung by my nerves was enough, for the present.
When I'd recovered, I raised my head, looked adoringly at his kingly scepter, and kissed its head softly, imploringly. I then rose off him and turned to face him, obeying his whispered plea. He took my head in his hands and joined his lips to mine for a moment before pulling me down beside him. I grasped him firmly and tugged him over me to lie between my widespread and receptive thighs, guided him into the bower he had so well explored, canting my pelvis to open wide the gates.
Once he was well ensconced we began to surge happily together. I relaxed completely under the magical influence of that smooth and slippery sliding back and forth in my sensitive sheath. His tonguing goad to joy had robbed me of none of my ability to appreciate the lilting beat of the happiness he brought me.
I was in no condition to respond when I heard a voice say "Can I play too? Or is this a game just for two?" I opened my eyes and moved my head to see, though Bob must not have heard: he was concentrating with all the effort a man could bring to bear on such a task. Sarah was standing there, beside the bed, her arms akimbo, legs apart, the nipples of her smoothly swelling breasts standing forth in excitement at the sexy sight of our enjoyment.
Startled by my movement, Bob raised his head and stopped his wonderful motion. "Sure, dive right in. The water's fine. What's with the rest of the crowd?" He only halted for a moment though, and I closed my eyes again in bliss, uncaring for the new addition to our loving. As long as he kept going, it was all right. She might even improve things, though that didn't seem possible at the time.
"Charley's gone to sleep, and Jim's petting with Betsy, though I think he's about had it till tomorrow. Carrie's passed out on top of John, and Harriet's in a corner thinking dark thoughts. I don't think anyone is going to bother you." As she stretched out on the bed beside us, she ran a hand in between our bodies, down my belly, stroking smoothly, and encircled Bob's prick with thumb and forefinger, her little finger plucking across that sensitive twig of mine. "Hmmm! Nice and tight in there. Can I get in too?"
Bob raised his belly above mine in reply, and she slid her head between us to flick her tongue across my nipples, setting up an incredible chorus of delight in my nerves. This extremity of thrill may not have been due to any special skill in her tongue, but rather to the utter novelty of this combination of smooth, female skin against me with the contrasting roughness of the rasping beard and horny hands of the man who held me fixed penetratingly to the bed.
I lay still, rapt in fascination at the contrast her smooth hands and knowing lips made with all I had known before, as she released my breasts and slid downward toward our juncture, planting soft and thrilling kisses on her way. When she reached Bob's planted root, her moist lips and active tongue stirred him to greater, faster, efforts. When she flickered over my clitoris, I heaved with sudden spasmodic joy, nearly hurling him off the bed. I knew her head must have been unmercifully smashed by our pounding bodies, but she gave no sign of discomfort, only kept to her self-imposed task of increasing our pleasure.
Her hand stroked down my thigh, up his, and over, caressed our shuttling junction, insinuating a slender finger between the frictioned surfaces, raising my delight to an ever higher pitch. Bob's too, judging from his increasing fervor as he stroked us both toward the approaching goal of our lust and toppled us over it, to slide slowly into the valley of bliss.
While we lay entwined, limp and panting from that mightiest climb of all, Sarah pulled away and left the bed. She soon returned, though, with sponge and towel, and gently wiped away all traces of our loving labors. All thought of Rod was gone from my mind; my attention was wholly centered on the marvelous attentions of these two wonderful persons who, together, could wreak such wonders on my nerves. Her touch, even as she wiped me clean, expunged all memories of sadness, of Charley's heavy touch that I feared so much, and left me wanting more. Bob's caressing touch, following in the path she left behind, turned me into a mass of desire. The orgasm he had wrought in me was gone, forgotten; I was ready for more.
When she had finished, and set her cleaning tools aside, Bob pulled her down between us, and, covering us both with his long body and enfolding us in his arms, said, "You two make Charley's dictatorship bearable. I'd love to have Sarah for a wife and Penny for a mistress. Betsy's not much good as either. This business has frozen her up, as far as I'm concerned. But you two are a pair of delights." He kissed us both resoundingly and then let himself fall between us, turning to keep an arm around each of us, holding us close, cupping a breast with each hand, thumbing the nipples gently, making me squirm anew.
I wished he'd look on me as a wife. That's the way I wanted him at the time. He was a substitute for Rod, and a good one, for I had known him first and liked him all along, but still, I would rather have had him all to myself, without sharing, no matter how delightful that sharing might be. I didn't say anything, though; Sarah had known him longer than I, and my jealousy wasn't really reasonable. I resolved instead to make the best of it and enjoy myself while I could. I didn't expect my release from depression to last. Far from it. I knew it would return, when I was sober and remembering Rod more clearly. Probably, I thought ruefully, it will be even stronger from guilt.
I rolled onto my side and reached for him, only to find him already responding to Sarah's touch. I had to settle for caressing his heavy balls in their gooseflesh sack. I pressed my mouth to his, trading tonguing stabs, exploring, and suddenly felt fingers combing through my damp fur. My fingers found his staff, deserted now, and curled around its length, began to squeeze it rhythmically, hoping to arouse it to its useful glory. When Sarah found my rigid bud, I moaned, thrusting against her probing fingers.
Soon we were entwined together, a tangled knot of limbs and bodies. Sarah had command again of Bob's swelling organ, mouthing it into shape. Bob's hands were roaming freely over two pairs of breasts, stimulating all. I stretched my legs apart to allow her hand free play, while mauling his lips. Her own legs clamped my hand in place, refusing to allow me any other choice, keeping my fingers dabbling in the flowing juices of her desire.
At last Bob had enough and twisted free with a roar. He seized Sarah and laid her beneath him, impaling her with a speed that left her gasping. With one arm he maneuvered me into a position that let him dip his lips into what he must have thought was a pot full of honey, so great was his hungry avidity. So great was our suddenly roused hunger that we all soon peaked, thrashing in our ecstasy, moaning out our happiness.
We fell asleep in that same position. No one moved; his breath bubbled in my damp hairs, my hand cupped his cheek in silent tenderness, his sleeping organ nestled in her warm folds, awaiting only rest to surge again.
Once that night I awoke, disturbed by movement against my thigh. My fingers were pushed from his chin by cool and long nailed fingers, and when my lap was bare they returned, to stroke lightly over the damp membranes, to bring moisture back, to send a shudder through my loins and up my spine. Goosebumps rose, and a moan crept forth.
"Easy, Penny. Don't worry, this'll be good, too." Slow, soft, calming and sensuous.
"Oohh, Sarah. That's nice. Don't stop." Half asleep, tongue thick with rising lust, I was hardly aware that this was a woman, not a man. I was ready, eager, and my nerves were beginning to burn.
"I won't." Her weight slid down across my thighs; my arms went out and up to welcome her, pull her down. She moved between them; languorously, they closed, softly holding her shoulders as she bent her mouth to mine. We kissed, soft lips and tender tongues, exploring gently, slowly.
Her hands stroked smoothly up my sides, her pelvis canted down, bringing her wiry thatch to bear on my sensitive bud. Her hips began to rotate slowly, pressures growing on our loins, her hands closing around my breasts, lips never leaving mine.
Her nails scraped gently over my nipples, pinched and rolled, raising them to rigid turrets, ready for the lips and tongue she moved to them, while my hands slid down her back to clasp her buttocks, holding, pressing her onto me more tightly.
Her lips and hands paid tender homage to my breasts; her lips slowed as she slid down to reach and caress my chest and belly. My hands moved free to find her breasts, ample, soft, diamond tipped. My hands cupped her breasts, felt their weight, as she dipped her tongue into my navel.
She moved again, withdrew from my grasp, left my hands to caress the smoothness of her head and cheek. Her lips and tongue parted the fur of my love-nest, kissed and delved. The sudden electric thrill of her tongue parting the membranes made me gasp; she moaned in reply, nuzzled deeper, and I could stand no more. I tugged at her shoulders, pulled her up to lie beside me.
She rolled to her back, tugged me over, guided my lips and hands to spots she had visited on me. I needed little urging; silently, tenderly, I worshipped her smooth, loving body. My lips found her core, my fingers delved beside my tongue, exploring, discovering the nature of a woman; I felt and tasted, loved the smooth undulations of her tissues, rolled her bud upon my tongue, between my lips and teeth, made her stiffen, moan, and cry, just as I.
She gasped and reached, pulled me over her, brought my weight upon her, foicing her ample breasts into my belly, soft cushions holding me up for her to serve. Her tongue, like mine, delved deeply again, rubbing and curling around the standing clitoris, driving me, as I drove her, into a frenzy of curvetting lust.
Our motions must have awakened Bob, for I suddenly felt his hands grip my hips, steadying me for the lunging penetration of his passion gorged tool, stiffened into madness by the sight of our activity. As he sank into the cushioned depths, her mouth left off its intimate probings to lave sensuously our slowly moving contact. Her tongue swabbed gently round the lips that held him, making them contract in shuddering gooseflesh, moved to kiss and lick his balls, sucking them into her mouth, tenderly caressing them there. We rocked and sucked like that until, vanquished by the rising tide of completion, we fell apart into deep sleep once more, waking this time only with the call to breakfast, brought by a cynically smiling Betsy.
When we trooped into the kitchen I was staring bemusedly at Sarah's bare breasts and looking around at the others on display, for, despite the renewal of my depression with the morning, I was wondering about the new erotic possibilities she had opened up. The female form had taken on new meaning and I was noticing it as I never had before. Sarah's breasts sagged slightly with the weight of years, where mine stood up-tilted in the pride of youth, offering themselves for tender womanly kisses in my imagination then. I had never dreamed that my body could be so pleasantly receptive to another woman, nor hers to me.
My reflections were interrupted, however, by Charley's rude leer that greeted my arrival. He seemed more interested than usual, as though he might have some designs on me. And so it proved, for when we had all finished our meal and were sitting back with our coffee, looking at each other and seeing how unattractive so many bare bodies really were in the cold gray light of morning, my father shifted in his chair, cleared his throat, and, on a sharp glance from Charley, started off.
"Uh, Penny. Uh, Charley has offered me-us-a way out of our ... our problem. He ... harumph, says he'll cancel our debt and give us enough money to move away from here if ... if you'll, harrumph, agree to go with him, be his, uh, concubine until he lets you go, uh, off on your own."
I was astonished that he would even think of letting such a thing happen. My face must have shown my feelings, for he suddenly exclaimed, "Don't look at me like that. Your mother said we should put it to you anyway. Uh, after all you're old enough to look after yourself."
"Yes," put in my mother. "You can go away and get a job a long ways away from here. You can leave us here to suffer for your letting people find out. At least Charley's thoughtful enough to see that everyone here isn't from the same neighborhood."
This was my mother? It didn't seem possible. I knew she was jealous, of me and of all the others too; we all robbed her of her husband; but how could she be so jealous? So jealous that she could let me go to such a fate, that she could think Charley thoughtful? Our recent troubles must have hurt her far more than I had suspected.
"Well, if you're going to act like that, maybe I will go away. I was thinking that if I did, Charley would take it out on you, but right now I don't really care."
"Penny," Charley interrupted, "if you run off, I will take it out on them. And I'll follow you wherever you go, so everyone will always know. The only way to keep your secrets is to come with me."
The bastard was actually smiling. He was enjoying watching us squirm beneath his goading control. Suddenly I saw what it was that made him what he was. He craved power, craved it as other men did drink, and when he had it, he wielded it with vast delight, using it to make himself feel big, greater than the people who became his victims.
I didn't want to see my parents suffer, any more than I wanted to suffer myself. I couldn't desert them, and open myself to a retribution of the most lasting, vicious sort I could imagine. Nevertheless, I didn't have to submit happily. I had to capitulate, but I did it sullenly.
"All right. I'll go. I don't want to stay where I'm not welcome anyway. And anyhow, I'm not going to be happy again till Rod's out of jail. I can be miserable anywhere."
Carrie's paradoxically soft voice carried through the embarrassed silence. "You'll forget Rod, girl. He's just a puppy-love, just a high school infatuation. You'll forget him soon enough, with everything else you'll find with us." Charley smiled as she finished, but I, choked with the self-centered rage of frustration, couldn't speak. I could only shout, in the reverberating silence of my skull: how can that be? Rod was all the world to me. How could it possibly end? I wouldn't forget him,I vowed, I wouldn't. I would wait till we could both be free.
I got up then, without answering Carrie's implicit challenge, and, choking back the threatening tears, went to my room and dressed to go outside. I didn't want to see any more of them until I had to. I spent the day wandering around our land, revisiting the sites of past happy hours with my dear Rod, soothing my offended soul in the leafy shade of brook side trees, letting the feel of the earth we'd lain on soak into my flesh and strengthen my memories against the coming erosion so awfully promised.
When I returned, hungry from the hours alone, I found Charley and Carrie ready to leave. Mama had packed a few things for me and they were already in the car. They allowed me just enough time to eat and then hustled me off. No one wanted to prolong the ordeal.
As I got into the car, I noticed Bob's pitying look; he saw no happiness ahead for me. Sarah, too, seemed sorry. My mother wore a look of sad triumph, my father one of shame, while Jim licked his lips in mysterious anticipation and Carrie showed signs of unalloyed pleasure. Betsy and Charley weren't visible just then, but I was sure they didn't share my father's mood.
That very night I was put to use.
On the way to Bucksport, where Charley lived and tended the strands of his web, he'd told me that I was going to do everything they wanted. Everything. Housekeeping and cooking, bed-making and warming. "For both of us," Carrie had put in with a leer. The housekeeping I knew I wouldn't mind; I'd been taught well at home. But the rest of it? Well, my education was pretty complete, and though I didn't expect to enjoy it, I was sure I wouldn't be shocked by any of their demands.
Carrie's comment made me think that perhaps that scene with Sarah hadn't been so spontaneous as I had thought. Had she been told to join us, to steer things in the direction she had? It didn't really matter, but I was curious. I'd been used ever since Charley had first noticed me. The prospect of more of the same didn't bother me. I only hoped to keep myself occupied until Rod could return.
When we had arrived at their small house, they showed me the tiny guest room where I could sleep when I wasn't otherwise occupied and told me where things were for my household duties. Then Carrie, with Charley hovering in the background, smiled and mused aloud, "You know, I've always wanted a maid. Perhaps you'll do, Penny dear. Come on. And Charley, you can get lost. She's mine now."
It didn't sound very real, somehow, but when she beckoned peremptorily, I followed, thinking that her words sounded as if she had said them before. Maybe there had been other girls in my situation, girls that had gone on, been let go. The thought made me feel a little better; a despair I had hardly recognized lifted and left me a little hope.
She led me to her room and sat down at a vanity covered with small jars and bottles, the mirror surrounded by lights. The quilted plastic skirt on the table didn't match the flowery bedding and drapes, and neither matched the orange carpet. Pink, orange, white, all engulfing the red and green shine of the modern painted furniture.
"Penny, take my hair down." It wasn't very long, but she had contrived to get it up just enough to say that.
"Unfasten my dress, dear, and take it off." I did, peeling the fabric from her pasty skin.
"Come on now. Don't stop there. A maid has to do the whole job." Her voice was coy, and, grimly, I set my teeth, unfastened her bra, let it fall down the flabby arms, struggled to remove the girdle, stockings, panties. She cooperated with my efforts only just enough, so that, to take advantage of the slight clearance she allowed me between her bottom and the seat, I had to press myself closely to her, breathing the sweaty musk of her body, suppressing the impulse to recoil from her clammy skin.
When I was done and standing back, holding her clothes as I thought a good maid should, she rose and turned, smoothing her hands down her sides. "Aren't I lovely, honey? This is what the men like, not you skinny things. All the great painters, like Reubens and Rembrandt, and lots more, used girls like me for their models. Voluptuous, that's me. Don't you think so?"
I looked at her doughy flesh, her hanging breasts, puffy eyes and lax mouth, and suddenly asked myself: is this why Charley is what he is, to feed this overweening vanity? Or is she like this because he feeds her aging hopes with the men he catches? She hadn't been pretty when I had first seen her, I remembered, but she was much worse now. At any rate, I thought it would do no harm to agree.
"Oh, yes. I can see why you have so many admirers."
I tried to keep my face straight, but I must have failed, for her face suddenly twisted in an ugly snarl and she cried, "No you don't. You think I'm ugly. Well, I don't care, you scrawny bitch. You'll do what I want anyway, or I'll see you and your parents ruined. Maybe I'll even do something about that boy friend of yours. Maybe I'll do that anyway, just to keep you from running off as soon as he gets out of jail."
Sudden consternation flowed over my face, and she laughed. "Or maybe that's a better threat to keep you in line. Charley's got contacts." Her breasts rose slightly as the flesh firmed and the nipples stiffened. "He can see to it that he never gets paroled. He could even arrange to have him die there."
"You wouldn't!" I gasped. This was too horrible. How could I live if that were to happen? The only hope I had to stay sane in their clutches was the hope that Rod would someday be free and we could break loose together.
"Oh, wouldn't I? But if you behave yourself and do what you're told, maybe we'll leave him alone." She was gloating, enjoying my anxious confusion, my trembling fear. She wanted me to break, to cry, to have hysterics. It would amuse her!
When she saw that despite everything I was holding back the tears, she snapped, "You can hang up my clothes now. And get undressed yourself. I want you beside me tonight."
I bowed my head and went to do her bidding.
I soon stood downcast before her, blushing beneath her critical gaze. She nodded once, satisfied by my show of humility, and stretched herself out on the bed behind her, legs widely forked and head cradled in her hands. "Well, don't just stand there! I want to come before I go to sleep. You do know how, don't you?"
I nodded quickly, afraid to anger her, and stepped forward to kneel between her legs, my arms folded against my breasts, gazing dumbly into her suddenly eager face.
"Well? Kiss me. There!" She pointed imperiously.
As I bowed my head to the unsavory meal, I saw her hands cup her breasts, starting to massage them as my tongue dipped reluctantly into the dryness of her flesh.
My moist attentions, however, soon brought about a rich flow of acrid juices, glutinous and slippery.
"That's it! Harder!" My tongue probed deeply, swept back and around to meet and lave her clitoris. "Oh! More! Suck it!" I did. "Harder!" I did, and raised her to such a pitch that I nearly suffocated from the shackling grip of her hand and the imprisoning pressure of her skull-cracking thighs.
I freed myself with one judicious nip, breathed deeply, and returned to the task at her outraged command. I applied every lascivious caress I'd learned so recently from Sarah, guiding my choices by her moans and cries. When my tongue drilled into her, to urge her piercingly on to fulfillment, she shuddered in delight, and I had a sudden inspiration.
Briefly, I withdrew to catch my breath, but soon dove into her again. I affixed my mouth to her slimy gash, my nose against her stiffened bud, and abruptly blew, inflating her to the limits of her ballooning cavity, while shaking my head so that my nose, as if it were strumming the strings of a guitar, vibrated across that sensitive overhanging protrusion.
She went rigid in response, moaned once, and screamed aloud in sudden ecstasy, and then went limp as satiation struck her. I rose then from my cramped position, and, as I was slowly slipping from the bed, she murmured, "Don't go, Penny. Sleep beside me tonight. Ahh, you're the best girl I've ever had. That last trick was really something. I hope you never forget it." Her eyes stayed closed, and soon after I lay down beside her she began to snore. I had no intention of forgetting that happy inspiration. Maybe, if she didn't get accustomed to it, it would shorten my labors, free me from some of her demands.
For most of the time I spent in their house, Charley wasn't very happy. Carrie was so enchanted with my exotic talent that she kept me with her nearly every night; he was powerless against his wife. He had to content himself with forbidding me to wear underwear and catching me whenever he could.
For weeks I was apprehensive, dreading the moments when he would find me bent over my work, washing, scrubbing, waxing, and seize me, his rigid member prodding my sensitive core. I had to submit, and in time I actually came to relish his attentions, for Carrie never reciprocated my labors, and I became extremely horny. Charley, unpleasant and grasping though he might be, was the only relief to be had.
Eventually my body learned, and as I would bend to my chores the carnal juices would flow to make his sudden penetrations easier, penetrations heralded only by the sudden onslaught bearing me to the floor.
He was always sudden, often brutal, but sometimes playful; like a little boy playing round the supermarket doors, he would dash in at the entrance only long enough to make ready for the exit. And other times he would call upon that skill that had first impressed him, and I would find my mouth flooded with his salty slime.
This arrangement continued for about two months, until Carrie began to show some signs of boredom. She had become used to my few tricks, and I had no one to teach me more. Perhaps, if she had made our affair more mutual, I might have lasted longer with her, but she didn't want to demean herself by removing that distinction between mistress and slave. I was really afraid when I realized that she was wanting me less often, for I feared that when she was done with me I would be cast aside and exposed, together with my parents, to the glares of the waiting critics.
I needn't have feared, though. As her demands lessened, Charley's increased, and she let him take me to his bed.
The first whole night with him was an ordeal. All that he had done to me before, he did again, with time his ally now. The next day I could hardly move, but somehow I managed.
Later nights were less demanding. The spice of secrecy was gone and he soon exhausted the novelties of my body. He rarely wanted more than one style of sexual acrobatics in a night, though his imagination still soared, or rather, plunged.
CHAPTER TEN
But Charley, too, grew used to me, bored with me, and one night in January he proposed a small party. I learned of it when I overheard him inviting Jim to come over for the night, tempting him with promises of wild debauchery. I didn't think the promises were necessary. I remembered Jim's expression the day I had left home, and thought he must have been waiting for such an invitation.
I didn't know what to expect. Charley had laughingly excluded Sarah from the invitation and his look of gleeful anticipation as he fed me drinks while we waited for Jim made me tremble with fear. Two men, and me, for Carrie showed no sign of wanting to take part. She sat aloof, matching me drink for drink, while Charley was carefully restricting himself. Two men, I thought, could only do to me what they had done before. It wouldn't be new, though I wouldn't like it. I held to that thought, and refused to see that Charley's eyes saw something new, something to excite him as I had when I had first come to his house.
Carrie stayed aloof when Jim arrived. The rest of us undressed, though I had to be told, but she remained clothed, staring at us over her drink.
When Charley had made fresh drinks, Jim was quick to seize a glass and cast his lecherous eye over my bare body, loitering on my hairy mound the most, rising to my swelling breasts, whose rosy tips were withered, shrunken, in foreboding, finally staring me boldly, appraisingly, in the face. But Charley stopped him with an upraised hand when he reached out to pull me close.
"What the hell's the matter with you, Charley? Isn't this going to be that kind of a party? It's sure starting off like one." He was indignant.
"Just never you mind, Jim boy. I'm running this. You can wait till the time's right." He turned to me, beckoned. "We're going to have us a private little orgy here, Penny. Just like the ones your Papa used to throw." His grin was grim with unintentional irony. "You're going to make Jim and me real happy, aren't you?"
"Oh." Understanding struck Jim, though not me. "You mean...."
"Yeah. Now come here, Penny. You can start by sucking me off. Then him."
I glared. I didn't want this kind of a scene; I didn't want to be used, like some kind of mechanical thing. It may have been all I'd ever seen, except with Rod, but it seemed more repulsive now.
"You know, Carrie, I think she's going to be uncooperative again. She's got that surly, stubborn look. And I've had about as much of that as I want. Why don't you go get the whips?"
"Sure, honey. I've been wanting to use them for quite a while now. She has been getting pretty uppity." Her gruesome smile sent a sudden shudder up my back. "We're not good enough for her, I guess."
As she left the room and I realized that they meant this, I gasped. "You can't do this! You can't!"
"Oh, yes we can," answered Charley. Jim stood to one side, sipping his drink, an evil pleasure radiating from every smirking pore of his face. "We will, too, if you don't cooperate."
He seemed in deadly earnest. "I'll cooperate. I'll do it!" I rushed forward and fell on my knees before him, his body suddenly tall above me, legs spread. I took his rigid organ in my mouth, frantically working at it. I squeezed it with my palms, massaged it with my lips, strained with every fiber of my being to show my change of heart. How I dreaded the thought of a whip!
A drop of moisture from his glass struck my neck, and his prick began to pulse, but even as his muscles clenched and his hips surged, pounding the meaty pillar against my throat while I drew on him with ever greater energy, I heard Carrie returning.
"It's about time. Give her a lick. She changed her mind, but she's not convinced enough. I want her real compliant." I spun, wide-eyed, to see her standing in the doorway with several long thin things, rather like riding crops, in her hand. They looked innocuous.
"Go on, Carrie. She didn't finish me."
I heard the first lash whistle invisibly through the air, and when I felt its stinging touch I leaped, screaming, to my feet.
"Hey, that was cute! Give me one of those, too. I want to see her do it again." The sudden painful caress of Jim's whip made me scream again, but, as Charley joined their sport, I could no longer tell whose lash was biting in.
Three dancing tips stung and burned my flesh, my back, my thighs, my breasts, the very core of my tender womanhood, doubled me over with excruciating pain, straightened me up again with a goosing sting. I lurched across the room, impelled by sudden agonies, brought back to the center of their demonic group again and again, guided by those deadly whips.
I soon found myself weaving, fatigued and blind with fiery pain, before Jim. "Get down!" I heard a voice cry out, and I fell to the floor. A lash touched the back of my head, and I rose to meet his one-eyed snake. I knew what they wanted, but I wasn't allowed to finish, for the spur of that lash spun me around once more and drove me to kneel at Charley's groin. I worked at him a moment, while he cried joyously, "Join us, Carrie! This is fun! Take off your clothes and take a turn. We'll drive her to you."
All too soon the lashes fell again and urged me on to apply my weary tongue and lips to her stinking gash. She moaned and ground against me, but again the whips fell, driving me around and around that small circle. They all came, again and yet again, until their juices overflowed my chin and dribbled down to stain the carpet. At last it ended, when I fell exhausted to the floor.
When they found the whips could not rouse me, they too rested, but only till they could catch their breaths. Then Charley, still rigid from his whipped-up excitement, rose and hauled me to my feet. My breath had returned, but every movement roused the pains of a thousand cuts and bruises.
"Here, Jim. Hold her up. We'll show her something now." He lay down at my feet and called to Carrie, gazing lustfully at me the while. "Hey, sweetheart, guide me in." She held him stiffly upright while Jim lowered me to deep impalement. I slumped down upon him at first, but a cut of Carrie's whip soon roused me enough to support my own weight, my breasts, streaked with the marks of the whips, dangling over his face.
He paused briefly to nurse on my bloody nipples, then spoke again. "We're going to show you something special, Penny dear. It wasn't so hot the last time wc tried this."
Jim, flushed with impatient passion, commented darkly, "Yeah, you were too drunk then." That sparked my memory; now I knew what they intended, and I knew, too, that Jim was right. I had had as much to drink that first time as now, but, older, my tolerance was greater, and their whips had churned my blood to whirling action despite the depressing effect of the alcohol.
Charley was impatient, though, and would not let me remember all the details of the past or prepare myself for the coming ordeal. His throbbing pillar lodged within me seemed to lift me with its urgent pulse as he tugged my shoulders down to lift my ass. "Right up her, Jim. Now, both at once."
"No!" I groaned at the first bulging pressure on my tight asshole. "No!" But he came on. I felt the separating membrane squeezed and stretched by the double engorgement. They began to move, and I moaned and cried, feeling that I would surely burst under the awful pressure. It hurt, but I dared not struggle. If I tried to escape, God only knows what might have happened to me next.
Seeing that I did not respond, but lay like a piece of liver on a two-pronged fork, Carrie began to wield her lash. I lurched and wailed, but began to heave my bottom in time with the thrusting movements within me, even as I noticed that I was not the only object of her attentions. The men, too, began to move with greater violence as her whip touched them.
I was approaching that frantic summit, that crest of desire, that had till now marked only my unions with Rod. This novel act was burning my nerves into joyously surrendering spasms. I screamed in culminating joy, but at the same time was inundated by a sense of shame that such people could force such a mighty response from me. I felt disloyal to my dear lost Rod. I felt that I had disgraced us both, and my feelings drove the joy from my mind.
Two gushing fountains bloated my bowels as I collapsed, beyond response to word or whip. Vaguely, I sensed the sucking pull as they withdrew and rolled me to the floor beside them, where they lay gasping like pale beached fish.
Carrie stood above us, legs apart, whip hanging idle in her hand, flushed and panting, eyes glowing with desire. But when she saw our helpless postures, she cried out in despair and, inserting the whip handle into herself, began to work for her own relief.
That was the end of the evening's entertainment. My vulnerable body had sated three awful lusts and had hopefully dulled their appetites for a while. I didn't want to have to go through that again, ever.
While they lay sprawled in satisfied contentment, moist and withered, and nearing sleep, I crawled away, groaning in pain beyond belief, and reached my bed.
When I went downstairs the next morning, Carrie was waiting for me, whip in hand. Now that she had introduced me to it, she must have wanted to enjoy herself. I'll never forget the look of unholy glee upon her face when I first saw her swing it, and again when I came upon her in the kitchen.
I limped toward her, grimacing with the pains of the night before. She only smiled.
"None of that, Penny! You can't expect to get out of your chores that way. If I catch you shirking, you'll taste this lash again. Get busy! There's a lot of cleaning up to do after that party." She lashed out in emphasis, stinging my belly with awful pain.
She did let me eat some breakfast, but then she drove me from chore to chore. I staggered from table to sink, from kitchen to living room, gathered up rubbish, spilled half in unconscious protest, and felt her lash again. I couldn't move fast enough to suit her after that. Always that terrible thong drove me on, while she found chores for me, work that would usually only be done once a year.
The day ended only after I'd been broken to tears and my dress nearly torn from my body. Racked with pain on pain, at last I refused to move. My sobs and cries brought Charley to the room, I hoped to halt my tortures, but he only watched while Carrie stung the cloth from my back.
I cried and screamed, writhing in agony before them, and at last he stepped forward to rip the remaining rags away. I was almost grateful for the sudden breath of cool air that soothed my broken skin, but that feeling ended when he dropped his drawers and seized me, flattened me beneath his weight, and plunged his tool to the hilt. I screamed and wailed again, but his cruel assault took no notice of the raw bruises left from the night before. His abrupt invasion brought on a fresh flood of pain, and I fought to free my loins from his tyranny.
He quickly came. My writhing struggles as I sought escape only hastened his triumph. He let my frantic movements pump him dry, then hurled me from him, rose, and said, in apparent disgust, "Leave her be, Carrie. She'll never go for this. We'll just have to get rid of her, too."
Rigid panic struck. Suddenly, I couldn't move, blind with fear of what he might mean. Would they take me for a "ride", as I had read of gangsters doing? No! They couldn't! From what he'd said there had been others, and it would be impossible to kill so many. At least, I hoped so. No, they could only throw me out, tell the world my, and my parents', secrets, let me suffer the cruelty of the world.
I lay there, paralyzed with uncertainty. What had he meant? I couldn't think, but after they left the room I calmed down. Then I could tend my new wounds, and think that the future could be no worse, and even its horrors could only last till Rod returned. Then we could flee! But, I thought, how much happier we both might have been if only I had trusted him before.
When dinner came, I sat and hung my head, avoiding their eyes, hardly daring to enjoy the food. I couldn't even taste what I put in my mouth, so great was my dread. Eventually he spoke. I hoped that he would tell me the answer to my fate, but I feared the worst.
"Penny, you just won't do. We've kept you with us much too long; we're all getting just a bit bored. Maybe we should have shown you the whips earlier. Maybe then you'd have been able to play the masochist to our sadists. Well, it didn't work that way, and I fear it never will." I damned his pompous words. Would he never get to the point? I knew their boredom! What would they do?
"Every once in a while we find someone who can, but they never last very long. They always have to leave eventually. And now you, too." He said this mournfully, apparently not noticing my face, contorted with dreadful apprehension. I think he regretted only having to find another candidate.
"I'll miss you." Would he get to the point? No, he only opened his mouth to take in more food, chewing thoughtfully for some moments. I didn't say anything; I couldn't trust my voice not to scream with the suspense.
"Yes, I'll miss you. But I'll still see you occasionally. I'm going to put you in a place I own up near Millinocket. It's a sort of year-round resort, but only for my friends. I send people like you there to work and take care of the guys I bring up there for parties and such. You'll be all right."
I finished the meal in silence, though my heart leaped against my ribs with relief. My fears had been groundless! I supposed this place must be some sort of a private whorehouse and I would be an inmate, but still, the relief from the fear of exposure or death was heady.
I wrote a letter, after dinner, to my parents. All I could bear to say was that Charley was sending me away to a place he had near Millinocket. I couldn't tell them more. I didn't want them to worry and grieve for me, since I was going partly for them.
The decision was made and I was left to myself-no chores, no whips, no demands of any kind. They had forgotten my existence as soon as they had resigned themselves to my unsuitability and I was able to rest for a week before I was taken away. The sores soon healed, and my spirits soared as the pain died away.
The time came, and Carrie stayed at home while he drove me north to his hideaway. Two hours on the road and little was said. Only rarely did he break the silence to point out some pretty view or famous site. Only once did he say anything more about our destination.
"You should like it up here, Penny. There are only a few others and there isn't much to do at all. I don't come up very often. Just about like at your house. Most of the time you'll be able to do whatever you want."
We were driving through a long flat area. The ground stretched away from the road in a sea of heath, cranberries, maybe a few blueberries, unbroken for miles except for an occasional low rise and clump of trees.
He noted my wondering look, and waved his hand. "You see all this? Ages ago it used to be a big lake, or maybe a piece of the sea, but now ... just like the bogs you can see all over the state. They've got a puddle in the middle, and moss, bushes, trees on the edge. They get like this after a while. The middle fills in, but all that moss still shakes when you step on it, till the water underneath goes away and you have a wet boggy place like this. This was all open water once. Look at it now."
Even he seemed sobered by the depressing lack of detail: no hills, no trees, and little traffic. It lacked all those things that are so common in the more populous parts of the state. Finally he sighed, breaking the spell that held us quiet, and waved his hand again. "It'll be thousands of years before anyone can grow anything but blueberries on this stuff. But you, well, you cooperate, do what you're told, and you'll be just fine. My manager will tell you just what the set-up is." He must not have wanted to be around when I found out just what I was being thrust into; he certainly didn't seem to want to tell me any more.
Wc reached the place, about five minutes the other side of the town-so close, and yet so far: the houses ended, leaving our goal isolated in a more hilly wilderness.
It was a large building, plainly built as a hotel, a bit rundown, with large grounds enclosed by a high stone wall. He drove me once around the drive, showing me the small groves of trees, bushes, lawns, the small brook with its many pools, one of them large enough to have been given a sandy beach.
In one corner of the grounds I noticed a small cemetery. He noticed my glance, and commented, "We take care of our own here. We have a guy for an undertaker and there's a doctor, too, of sorts. We don't need to bother the town." His smile was sly, but his voice was soft, concerned, though why I didn't know. I couldn't have escaped. My last chance to resist had vanished, really, when we had left Millinocket behind.
An ominous shudder passed down my back, and he hastened to reassure me. "We don't have many deaths here. It may look like a lot of headstones, but there was an old family plot here when this building was first put up. Nobody disturbed it, and we didn't either. And of course, we only bury natural deaths here." That didn't soothe me. With his own doctor, he could bury anyone and call it natural.
We stopped in front of the building and got out. He led me in, one hand on my elbow, and as we stepped through the door a portly little fellow rushed up to us from a door to one side. He reminded me of nothing so much as an animated bowling ball.
"Ah, Mr. Mathews, have you come to inspect? Everything's in perfect order. We're so happy to see you!"
"No, Oscar, no. I'll only be here for a minute. Here's a girl to add to the staff. Penny, this is Oscar Frimble. Oscar, Penny Pandergast. You take good care of her and see that she gets settled in all right. I've already shown her the grounds."
"Yes sir! She'll know the whole score an hour from now. But really, can't you stay, at least for a drink?"
"No, I've got to get back to town right away. There's a deal on tonight. Can't miss that, you know." They both laughed.
Charley didn't look very comfortable around this fellow. His words were curt and snappish, and his eyes avoided him. Oscar looked a little effeminate to me, but I didn't find him offensive. I had grown up too isolated, had seen too little of the infinite variety of mankind, and whenever I met a new kind of man, I was too curious to be hostile or afraid.
"You take care of Penny. Don't worry yourself about me or my affairs. Her suitcase is in the car. Get it!" Hardly had he snapped out that last word than Oscar was running. He was back with my suitcase more rapidly than I would have thought possible, and as he came through the door Charley turned and, with a curt nod of his head, left. I watched his car purr down the drive almost with regret. At least I'd known him.
But now it was time to face the unknown.
"That bastard!" I heard Oscar mutter beside me. "You're not here on your own hook, are you? No, you wouldn't be. He owns us all. I'd rather be in jail," he added morosely.
"What do you mean?"
"You wouldn't know it, but I used to be his right hand man. Then he decided he didn't need me; maybe he thought I knew too much, or maybe he just decided he didn't like me, and he put me here. Said if I didn't go along he'd have me arrested for being queer. That hadn't made any difference before, but I guess he thought it would make me a safe man to run things here. Except it's not much of a job. I can't leave, and I don't have any friends here. All he ever sends here are girls."
"That's too bad, but if jail would be better, why don't you just run away and let him turn you in? At least jail's not permanent." I was sympathetic, but I didn't think I was offering any new advice. He must have thought it all out himself.
"Sure. It isn't that easy for him to get me into jail for being queer. But there are other things. Or he could set up some kind of a frame for me. But if he thought I had the nerve to do that, he'd have me taken care of, but good. He likes to run things by keeping people scared, though. He doesn't have to make things any more final very often. Though he's not above it if he has to, you understand. But come on, I've got to tell you how things work here." He led the way to a lounge where he put down my bag and invited me to take a seat.
"Might as well be comfortable. This will take a little while. Would you like a drink?" I nodded, and he went to a cupboard bar to get bottles and glasses.
"Sherry all right? A little Scotch for me. Here. Cheers." He took a seat across the room from me, raised his glass and took a hearty swallow. Maybe he was queer; he paid me less attention than I was used to from a man.
"There are fifteen girls here, and one man-me. You'll make the sixteenth and you'll share a room with one of the others. I'll pick one and you can change later if you want to.
"Usually we're left pretty much to ourselves, though no boy friends are allowed and you can't go anywhere. You're stuck here for as long as Charley Mathews wants, and that can be a long time. You girls take turns on cooking, cleaning up, housework, and so on. You even do the yard work. It's not too bad, though. There are plenty of appliances and power tools." He went on in this vein for quite a while, though he didn't mention my purpose at all. Finally he called in the other girls, introduced me around, and settled on an attractive redhead named Natalie as my initial roommate.
We talked for a little while over drinks, covering the generalities, getting acquainted. I was beginning to wonder when someone would get to the point when Oscar rose and said, "Natalie, why don't you show Penny where your room is and let her get settled in. Rose and Marie should have dinner ready in about an hour. Will that give you enough time, Penny?"
"I think so. I would like to get cleaned up a bit."
"Come on then, Penny," said Natalie as she got to her feet. "Our rooms are really kinda nice. You'll like them." I picked up my bag and followed her out of the room and up the stairs.
The rooms were nice, I found when we entered the one I was to share with her. A small living room greeted us as we went through the unlocked door, and off it lay a bathroom and a large bedroom with two double beds, side by side. There was plenty of closet space, and the living room had a small bar, fairly well stocked. There were also a TV set and a few books that must have belonged to Natalie. She pointed out an empty bureau and closet into which I could put my meager belongings.
When I entered the bathroom to wash off the road dust, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, raising their smooth weight and stretching the cloth over the tips so I could see she wore no bra, and leaned against the door frame. "You can use my stuff if you want. We can get some for you later. Oscar keeps a lot of things in the storeroom."
"Thanks. I will. This is a pretty nice set-up, really. Better than I expected. It looks like they went to a lot of trouble with it."
"Yeah. When Charley bought it, it was an old hotel. He had a few walls torn out and fixed it up. Money doesn't matter much to him." She shrugged, one conical breast sliding with the movement under the material of her blouse, the nipple stiffening from the friction.
Dryly, I muttered, "Yes, I know. I've never really known how he got so much though."
"Oh, he's got a few rackets, but most of his money comes from loan sharking. Almost everyone manages to pay him back somehow, but if you can't pay, and you're young, pretty, and female, you wind up here. That's how everyone gets here." She didn't know as much as I did.
"Except Oscar."
"Yeah, him."
"Well, I don't owe him any money. My parents do. He got them into orgies first, and then he got me. He made me come here or he'd tell the world about everything."
"Orgies, huh? You should be all right here then. Nothing new. Some girls almost crack up the first time he and his buddies come around." She seemed almost envious of me. It must have been rough on her.
"I've been thinking this was some kind of a private whorehouse or something, but nobody's been very specific."
"Well, kid," she must have been all of 24, "it's kind of a funny system. It's like a big game that everybody takes real serious. Most of the time we're quiet and peaceful here, like a convalescent home, but when he and his buddies come, it's all different. Like, nothing's free any more. Every girl gets assigned to one man for as long as he's here. Charley usually brings his wife and keeps her for himself. Whenever the man wants something he has to pay for it, with your sweet bod. One of the guys will have the food concession, another one the liquor, and so on. Charley's the landlord."
She paused for a moment to light a cigarette and find an ashtray. "The funny thing's how they don't use money. A guy has to pay for anything, and he turns his girl over. There's a set scale of things she has to do to pay different prices, though nobody pays much attention to it."
"I guess a girl just doesn't have any say at all around here." I had been busy while we were talking and had just finished in the bathroom. She followed me into the bedroom and watched as I undressed. "What kind of things do you have to do?"
"Oh, the little things are just a kiss, and the biggest are a screw, but the position varies. The hardest ones are worth the most. A meal's a screw, or whatever, but the guy can't collect from everyone. He gets his choice.
"The rent's the same way, too. Charley just gets what he wants. That's the price. The everyday stuff's not too bad. It's when they get a poker game going that it's rough on a girl, especially if her guy's a loser. That's about the only place they pay attention to that scale."
I wanted to change before dinner, and was down to my bra and panties when she said, "That looks like a good idea. I think I'll change too."
She started stripping, but when I was naked she paused and looked at me, her eyes glowing slightly with sudden interest. "Hey, you're real pretty! They're all going to want you." She went back to her own undressing, straightening only when she was done.
She was a natural redhead. Every hair of her body was a light russet, giving her form lovely highlights when the light, as now, was behind her. Her breasts were full, standing out in smooth plump cones supporting elongated nipples, stiff now, jutting like the spires on twin cathedral domes.
She responded to my searching gaze by reaching out and cupping one of my breasts, softly squeezing it, thumbing the nipple as she looked inquiringly into my eyes. She stepped closer, wrapped a hand around her own breast and rubbed its turgid nipple against mine. This novel stimulus thrilled me strangely. My mouth went lax; my knees began to melt. She saved me from collapse only by stepping back, smiling in a strangely happy way, and saying, "I think we're going to be real good roommates, don't you? We'd better hurry. Dinner's almost ready, I'm sure." Businesslike again, she turned to dress.
I could only nod. Good roommates? If the way I felt was any indication, we'd be the best. But how could I react like this to a complete stranger, and a woman? Carrie had almost turned my stomach, had soured the feelings aroused by Sarah. But Natalie promised to redeem them, and I found myself wanting her as badly as I'd ever wanted any man besides Rod.
We both dressed quickly and went downstairs. The meal itself proved to be very simple, almost spartan, but well cooked. Apparently the best was saved for festive occasions, perhaps as one of the few bright spots in our lives. Just meat, potatoes, and apple pie, with water and coffee, but it quelled my hunger.
Throughout that meal I was the only topic of conversation. Newcomers weren't frequent, I was sure, and a new face must have been welcome. Everyone wanted to know my history, what I thought of Charley, how I'd been caught, and so on. I let them know most of what they wanted, leaving out only my early education and Rod.
It was satisfying to talk about myself, and their questions made me think that I might be happy there, or at least, as happy as one could be in that kind of a situation. Never before had I encountered such interest in myself as a person, except, of course, with Rod, and I was flattered, giddy with their attentions.
After dinner most of us gathered in the lounge, where Oscar served drinks as he had before. From the way these were received I guessed that he was celebrating the new arrival, and his opening toast confirmed my thought. Perhaps he felt obliged to ration the alcohol, though from my observations, I knew there was plenty. I could see that alcoholism might be a welcome retreat from a life like this.
I found out later that drinks were limited. The bars couldn't be restocked at will, only just before a party, and then the men would drink most of the liquor. Oscar did, though, manage things well; he kept the girls sober and fairly happy, even under their peculiar feast-and-famine sexual regime.
It may have been the periodic orgies that kept them sane. I noticed that nearly everyone liked them to some extent, though a few, like me, longed for freedom. Natalie, who had first joined the group about six months before, was among the loudest complainers, but she also seemed to know how to enjoy the inevitable. Her tales showed she didn't really care who the man might be; she relished the sex. Her main complaint was the isolation and regimentation; avidly she hungered for freedom, but she would not leave. She feared the punishment that would surely come, but she feared the loss of a regular supply of men more.
They were all looking forward to the next orgy, though, and I could hear occasional scraps of talk about who they'd be paired with, would there be any new men, what would they be like, and so forth. I didn't relish the prospect myself. It seemed all too likely that Charley's friends would all be like Jim, and I didn't want to be reminded of him.
Not long after I'd showered and gotten into bed, Natalie came in. She turned on a small light, so as not to disturb me, and undressed. When she came out of the bathroom, she walked gracefully over to me, a slight frown adorning her face. "You're in my bed, Penny."
I sat up abruptly, holding the sheet automatically to my chest, and looked up to say apologetically, "I didn't know. It had clean sheets and the end table's between them, so I really couldn't tell."
"Oh, it doesn't matter really. No, don't get up. You don't have to change. It's a lot better to sleep beside someone anyway."
"Oh, no, I'll move." I began to slide toward the edge of the bed, but she forestalled me with a restraining hand.
"No, no. It's all right. I like company." Still holding me back, she pulled away the covers and slipped into the bed beside me. The warm length of her body felt good, and I hesitated before worming my way back to the other side of the mattress. She followed, though, and stayed pressed close against me.
Her arms went around me, held me close. She murmured, "It's a long time between men around here, honey. We have to make do, and this can be even better."
"No, Natalie, no. Let's just sleep. I don't like this." I was afraid of her, my only memories of such love being what they were. But she ignored my half-hearted plea. She bent her head to my breast, and I felt her plucking lips. "Don't worry, honey. I found out it doesn't have to be so bad, and so will you. Just relax."
Her lips settled more firmly to draw me in, pressed and pulled at my nipple. Her hand swept smoothly down my side, coursing gently over hip and mound, fingers tangling slowly in the thatch surrounding the sensitive lips of my pussy. Her finger dipped and found moisture, lingered to spread it over the tingling flesh. Her words, and now her touch, stilled my fears. My protests died unuttered in my throat, gave way only to a low moan of pleasure.
Her gentle hand and skillful lips stroked me up to rigid, throbbing rapture. I gripped her head and held it tightly to my bosom, softly screamed and fell limply apart while she prodded me to swift completion.
Afterward, I lay quietly enfolded in her arms, enjoying the playful touch of her lips on mine. Slowly I became aware of the soft curves impinging on me and reached out to stroke them in return. She did not protest. If I wished to return her favors, it was all right with her. Unlike Carrie, Natalie obviously believed in mutual loving. She knew the pleasures of giving as well as of receiving.
Her full breasts filled my palms, warming and soothing the hurts of the past as I cupped and stroked them, fingering the long nipples till they hardened and rose. My hands moved on, searching out the curly russet covering of her joy, and found the jack in her pulpit. I rolled it gently between my fingers, listened to her throaty moan. I kissed the softly vibrating column beneath her jaw, and shifted my position to nurse luxuriously on her swelling bounty. She responded with another moan, and her hands sought me, trailing lines of cool fire over my breasts, settling more intimately against me. Our fingers tangled as we tried to bring each other mutual happiness in this lonely house of quiet desperation.
Our lips met, and tongues entwined to aid our hands as we lifted each other to the heights of pleasure. Her fingers left my hungry, craving core and wrapped around my hips to turn me gently onto my back. She was mounted then like a man, but there was no insinuating pressure. I embraced her avidly, and she ground her loins against me. Our hairs matted together, but spread under the pressure till more sensitive surfaces could meet, to spread and merge, the frictions of our clitorises sending messages of excruciation to our brains. Only after we had loitered thus for minutes, bathing in pure sensation, and the edge had begun to fade, did she begin to move, gently, oscillating against my hips.
The sensation was tremendous. Our tongues darted back and forth faster and yet faster as we both neared the summit. Our hands mauled our breasts lovingly, adding what we could to our impetus. Her grinding pressures grew and speeded up. I surged beneath her weight, arched my back to increase the depth and breadth of our contact. We stiffened in each other's arms, soaring to the dazzling realm of sky-rocketing glory, crying out our satisfaction till the room echoed to our joy.
But even that was not the end.
Quietly, we rested, catching our panting breaths, feeling the slow return of desire. Our lazy cuddling and slow, sweet kissing ceased when she pulled away to kneel beside me. She rested there, weight upon her heels, and softly glided her hands along my skin in loving exploration. Her fingers molded every curve and swelling, fleshy hillock, dipped into every crevice. Languorously I stretched and writhed beneath her sensuous touch, reveling in the symphonic chords evoked from my every nerve.
Hair cascaded over my chest, its russet beauty hiding the curving charms so attentively adored, tickling with its many tendrils, as her lips swooped upon my breasts, to tweak and pull and suck, arousing their turgid yearning to an aching height. She pulled away and swept a rosy stroke from head to toe and back again, dipping to touch with lips and tongue wherever flesh could burn. I writhed and turned, roused to the brink of ecstasy by her skillful ways, stilling, crying, clutching, when her tongue dipped into my lubricous well to dally with the guardian of my womanhood.
My ecstatic twisting brought me soon between her legs, my face angled into her groin, its delectable odors tempting me to erotic madness. When her tongue first stabbed into me I tried to return the favor, but the position was too awkward. She knew what I was doing, though; she wasn't lost in the throes of her passion. She shifted till our mouths were both applied to the worship of our joys. Her smoothly silken thighs rubbed against my cheeks as we rolled about the bed, bringing even greater pleasure to me, and stirring the drilling, lapping motions of my tongue into a frenzy of loving activity; I drilled into the humid depths, stroked the velvet tissues of her pussy, found and nibbled, sucked and swirled, her clitoris, rigid with desire, aching for a crest. Her enjoyment fed my own, and as she began to groan and writhe out her pleasure in approaching orgasm, I found my own response to her ministrations increasing beyond anything I had ever thought possible.
Our pleasure ended, as it always must, in a mutual screaming convulsion that left us drained, exhausted. That final satiation left me depressed and sad that it had to end, for the orgiastic frenzy of our loving was such that I could have spent a lifetime screaming on the brink, mindlessly rigid in everlasting orgasm. Though the end was a mighty spasm of joy, a mighty cap for an evening of love, it was an end, and I wished for more, more of joy and happiness, without the weary sadness of the aftermath, even though it might come tenderly, as now, when she slowly crawled around till we could lie stretched out to fall asleep enfolded in warm comfort.
The months passed. The hazy months of autumn, the lonely, snowbound months of winter. Throughout them all Natalie and I softened our sorrows and warded off loneliness in each other's tender arms.
We weren't the only ones to turn to roommates for solace. There were frequent reshufflings of room assignments that must have been for the sake of changing partners. Only Oscar lived the lonely life of celibacy. I think that anyone would have gladly obliged him, if he had but asked, but being what he was he couldn't, and there were no other men.
I believed then, and I still do now, that Natalie and I were the most successful, least often sad. We became the best of roommates, solicitous, sharing, loving, but still I yearned for Rod. The dread memory of Carrie's voracity dimmed, and the quality of Sarah's introduction grew clearer, though I still didn't trust her.
I grew to know and love every red-haired inch of Natalie's luscious form. I adored the whole of it nearly nightly with lips and tongue, eyes and hands. In truth she seemed to feel much the same toward me, and often it would have been hard to tell who was adoring whom.
In spite of our growing, saving love, however, I never stopped wanting Rod and freedom. No other love can take the place of a free love, enjoyed in pride and independence. Too, he could satisfy me much more deeply.
The orgiastic visitations came infrequently; in all that expanse of dying and dead seasons there were only two, one in the fall, the other just after Christmas. Happily we welcomed the diversion, and happily we saw it end. The men that Charley brought were eager to take advantage of his lavish hospitality. Only here would they ever find, as I heard one quip, "bed and bawd." Like children set free in a candy store, their appetites were phenomenal. They tried to strip the shelving bare, sating themselves so one would think they would be utterly incapable for months to come.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
My affair with Natalie languished as the Rod-fed fire flared. At night I spurned her advances; the renewal of Rod's love made them repugnant to me. I tried not to let her see it, but she could sense that there was a new factor somewhere on the scene. I still loved her as before, and my memories of our loving embraces were still precious to me, but I didn't need them any more. Rod was there now to help me bear my plight.
I didn't want to tell her of Rod, but I couldn't think of any other way to lull her suspicions, which she was sure to voice if I couldn't satisfy her soon. I knew the simplest explanation of my sudden lack of interest in her was a man, and she knew about Rod. I had told her my story long before. Would she remember? I thought that surely she would have to tumble sometime, and I had no way to reassure her.
The break finally came, as it really had to, about two months after Rod had first jumped over the wall. One night, as we were lying side by side in bed, she tried to make love, but I pushed her hand away and rolled over, presenting my back to her. I didn't want to leave her and take the other bed, unused since my first night there. Such an abandonment would be sure to make her more suspicious.
Her hand stroked down my side and came to rest on my hip. "What's the matter, Penny? Don't you like me any more? We haven't done anything in months." Her voice bore a plaintive note; she was worried. A life like ours does nothing for a girl's morale. Constant treatment as a machine leaves a girl feeling like one, unsure of her femininity, even of her humanity. Without some kind of love, someone to regard her as a person, she soon loses all her sense of self and individuality, and develops a strong sense of inferiority.
"I'm just preoccupied, Natalie, honey." It was a lame excuse, though partly true, but suddenly I had an inspiration, an idea of how to turn this lameness to good account. It might not have been a great idea, but I thought that it might do.
I rolled over and propped myself up on an elbow, facing her. "Look, honey." I could still call her that, anyway. "You know how I hate this place, and you do too. If you promise not to say anything, I'll tell you something."
For a moment she was alert, breathlessly impatient. "If you've got some kind of a plan to get out of here ... oh, forget it. Charley'll never let you get away with it." She sank back in renewed dejection.
"Promise!"
"All right, but I still don't think there's any real hope." She didn't either. I could see it in her face.
"I don't intend to escape. I'm going to fix it, if I can, so we all leave, with no hard feelings from anybody."
"That'll be great if you can swing it. But how ... hey! The only way to do that would be to kill Charley! How are you going to do that?" She was beginning to look interested again.
"I'm not quite sure just yet," I lied. "But I'll think of something, don't you worry. But just look how easy it is to get out of here if we can do that. Charley keeps all the secrets on us to himself, right?"
"Not quite. Carrie knows too."
"But she's the only other one, so she doesn't count."
"What do you mean? She'd spill it all herself if she had a chance, or give it to the next guy to take over after you got rid of Charley."
"She won't have the chance to spill it if I can work this. Remember what happened to Hank and Heloise?" I smiled, hoping she would see it, would recognize my cleverness.
"Noo ... you mean ... but you can't do that! That makes you as bad as them."
"Not really. All we have to do is kill Charley. Pig-eye's told me nobody, but nobody, likes Charley, or Carrie. If he dropped dead, Harry'd take care of the death certificate happily, and it wouldn't take much to convince them to give Carrie the business, too. Just a reminder, really. They might even think of it all by themselves. You know how he always has her as his woman here; we could do everything by his own rules."
She smiled and licked her lips, a gleam now lighting her eyes. "That sounds good! I can hardly wait to see that! But how are you going to kill him? He's always got that Kurt with him, and that's some hunk of bodyguard!"
"Don't I know it! I'm not really sure how to kill him yet, but I'll think of something. It's the only way we can ever get out of here." I knew how to kill him all right, but I didn't want to tell her at all. It might shock her into having to tell someone. If my plan reached Charley's ears, it would be the end of me.
We were quiet then for a while. I was hoping I had been able to quell any suspicions of Rod's presence. Surely what I'd told her would be enough to explain my withdrawal. She seemed to be accepting it, thinking hard, her brow wrinkled with concentration as she sought to find a way to implement my plan.
Finally she started trying to suggest ways of killing Charley, but all were impractical. None would work, and she seemed to know it as soon as I did. I wondered if she would hit upon my intention, but she didn't. Perhaps it was too repulsive a thing for her to think about, and if it crossed her mind she must have thrust it out. That suited me; the more people there were who could look properly shocked at the deed, the more spontaneous, the more accidental, it would look.
"Come on, Penny, don't you have any ideas?"
"They're not any better than yours. Nothing seems to be very likely. But I'll think of something. I've got to! I can't stand it here much longer."
"I just hope there is some way we can do it. If we botch it, he'll take care of us for sure."
I told her I was sure we could do it, and not to worry. After all, there weren't even any plans for another orgy yet. By the time there was one, we should be ready. This reminder that we couldn't do anything immediately calmed some of her eagerness, and we were able to go to sleep.
My heart leaped at the news when Oscar finally announced that we could expect Charley and his cohorts in ten days, a week from the coming weekend. I would have the chance to put my plan into action! Could I? I would have to. That was all there really was to it. If I skipped this opportunity, I might lose Rod, after my hopes had been raised so high, or have to run, unprotected from Charley's wrath.
The next day I told Rod that soon I would be free to go with him, that we could at last be free, together. In ten days I could put my plan into action and end Charley's tyranny, but not before.
This news heartened him and his impatience disappeared. Now that he knew how long he had to wait, his despondency sloughed off with his clothes and he fairly bubbled with plans for our future. Now that I was within his grasp, he could believe in me, and his hopes. However, my own impatience now rose till it surpassed his greatest. I could hardly wait for Charley to arrive and start the orgy. Where usually I dreaded these affairs and their humiliation, this one I awaited eagerly.
Those ten days were slower to pass than any others I had ever known. I could hardly contain myself as it approached. My embraces with Rod grew ever warmer, heated by the prospect of liberty. I babbled, and nearly spilled the secret of my plan in the overflowing rush of my gaiety. With difficulty I restrained myself. I could not risk revelation.
At last the final day of ray captivity dawned, bright and fair. I had cautioned Rod not to come that day, for I would need all my energy that night. He would have to wait out the last hours alone, and, though I was surrounded by company, I was nearly frantic with nervous impatience. I could hardly wait for Charley to come within my hungry grasp; I shook with the ever present fear that he would not come, would cancel the orgy at the last minute, or would send his friends without him, something I had heard that he had done before.
I waited, fretting, pacing. Natalie, beside me in our room, was quiet, standing by the window, watching, turning to look at me when I passed near her. We both knew that here was our chance, and we were still not sure it was possible, that we dared. She shared my edgy uncertainty, though she would only be standing aside, waiting.
Oscar finally shouted up the stairwell-he was here! His car pulled up, disgorged him and Carrie. I looked and smirked, thinking of his imminent fate, gloating over my plans for him. I stood and watched him enter, went down the stairs and watched him direct the preparations for his last party, greet the friends who came after him, his friends who would be so happy to see him fall, who would happily split up his nefarious enterprises and feel safer for his demise.
I watched them settle in, served them drinks, acted in every way as I was supposed to, servile, obedient, a tool for their pleasure. I thought of myself that night, however, as like a beautiful but deadly snake.
Charley, jovially unsuspecting of his peril, introduced the few newcomers around, explained the system once again, though for some reason he didn't choose to demonstrate, and made ribald cracks about something special he had in mind.
This seemed slightly ominous to me, especially when dinner came and went without any man claiming the payment for his concession. Even Harry didn't try to invoke his privileges. He was a regular, and had his concession regularly, just as Pig-eye always had me, except when some important guest had to be pleased. Kurt, must have had some idea of what the treat was to be, for he sat to one side with an anticipatory gleam in his eye. Pig-eye, his eyes resting on me alone, was oblivious. He was undoubtedly thinking of the evening ahead. He definitely seemed to have taken to me. I must have been the only woman ever to accept him fully.
I had no idea of what was coming, and dinner was a strain. Was his surprise to be the news that he knew my plotting? The uncertainty was bad enough, but Natalie kept casting questioning glances my way. I had managed to keep her satisfied so far without telling her any details, but now she wanted to be reassured that it would come off. I avoided her eyes, carefully looking the other way.
She didn't seem to realize in how much danger her looks might put us, but there was no way to tell her to stop it. Happily, though, no one noticed, and when dinner was done I was confident.
We adjourned to the lounge, where Charley ordered drinks served to everyone, and when he had one in his hand, he waved it aloft to gain attention, and began to speak.
"Hear, hear. I've thought up a brand new way to collect the rent. Tonight I'm only going to watch, and you girls are going to follow my directions. I've got a great little trick in mind." A cruel smile lifted the corners of his mouth as we digested this announcement. The men grinned; they must have known what was coming.
"Dick, Ken, Harry, Dirk, I want you four to strip and stand up against that wall." He pointed, leering lasciviously.
"Now, girls, take off those little aprons. I don't want anything in the way. Let's see now," he mused, his hand on his chin, looking us over appraisingly. "Mona, Natalie, Karen, and, uh, Sally, you take Julie there by the arms and legs and hold her up in the air. No, no, don't stretch her out like that. A little closer. Yeah, like that." They did as he said, suspending her, butt down, head hanging back, her long black hair sweeping the floor.
"Yeah, that looks okay. Now ... Dirk seems to be the readiest." Dirk grinned a little sheepishly at this notice, and as heads turned toward him he stiffened even more. "Carry her over there and push her onto him. That's right, like a key in a keyhole, only you're moving the keyhole, ha!"
I watched as Julie was slowly impaled on the remorselessly jutting spear. She gasped as it sounded her depths, winced as the clumsiness of her bearers bore her off the charted course. He thrust to meet her, diving into her helplessly hanging form, and she moaned as her head rose and her body stiffened in reply.
"None of that, Dirk. Let them do all the work. That's right, just hold still. That's what I want to see. Move her back and forth, girls. If he comes first, move on to the next. If she does, grab another."
Charley's eyes gleamed coldly in the light as he leaned forward to watch the action closely. He licked his lips, imagining himself the recipient of their tender ministrations, and shifted his position to ease the growing tensions in his groin.
They swung her back and forth, her moist and gripping tube plunging on and off his bulging staff.
They closed and opened the pincers of her thighs, and urged Dirk on to the cataclysmic explosion. He braced himself against the involuntary surge, spewed forth the silent voice of his manhood, fell back against the wall as his strength drained out.
They pulled her loose and turned to Ken, began to service him, and we all could see the color wax and wane in Julie's cheeks as the motions of her thighs, the swirling action imparted to her pelvis by her lovely helpers, the swift and turgid distensions of her innermost nerves, propelled her to her pinnacle, long before he reached his own. She had to be released, her cry of completion still ringing through the room, and another was chosen to finish Ken, then Dick. More men stripped and took their places on the wall. More girls were used, taking their places in the swinging crew as fast as they recovered from the draining effects of their orgasms. I noticed how, as events proceeded, the tented peak of Charley's trousers grew and grew. This was certainly arousing him.
My own turn finally came, and as I was swung aloft and borne down upon my victim I despaired. If this were Charley's choice tonight I would never see Rod again, never be free. The chance would be gone forever, for Rod would leave, sure that I was only stringing him along, and without him waiting in the wings I would never again be able to find the nerve to follow through with my plan.
The unwanted penetration pierced to my core, with none of Rod's gentleness. I felt the soft under-curve of my thighs pound against his belly as I was oscillated rapidly on his standing pole, and I tried to hasten the end of this cruel usage of my flesh by swiveling my hips as much as I could beyond the efforts of my four supports and by constricting my muscles on his prick, but I only hastened his own end and came no nearer myself. And then I was sliding onto another stiffly waiting organ, and again I tried to speed the finish, but once more I only succeeded in extracting his wet tribute without relieving my own plight.
On and on I went, man after man. They were beginning to repeat when I stopped noticing. My anxious mood must have desensitized me, for on I went, blinded to the world by the blissful agony that swelled into pain so great from endlessly prolonged friction that it had to end, and I cried out in anguish.
"No more, no! It hurts! It hurts." I moaned as they pulled me off the engorging member, uncorked my aching channel, and laid me down upon the carpet. I lay inert, stupefied, unresponding, so sore that I could hardly have moved had I wanted to.
Only when Charley and his cohorts, having finished their degrading game, moved to leave, to pursue chance in the cards, did I cry out again.
He turned to look at me. "What's the matter, Penny?"
"I, I still haven't paid the rent."
"That's all right, kid. You paid it better than any of the others." His attention wandered. He wanted to go. "Real stamina you've got. Quite a show." He chuckled as he started for the door again.
Only Pig-eye remained, gazing solicitously down at me. "Help me up, please, Pig-eye. No, Charley! I don't think I have. You like my specialty, and I've thought up a new twist I think you'll like." Strength for the task ahead flowed into me through Pig-eye's supporting arm. "Let me, please, let me satisfy myself. I won't feel secure here till I do. If you don't let me, I'll be worrying about getting evicted till the next time you come. Please?" He hadn't yet released the erotic tension built up by watching his little sport, I knew, and I was counting on that to win my case. I was pleading for my freedom, though he couldn't know that.
He turned again, looking at me totteringly held up, his pants still bulging with excitement. I could see the throbbing pulse as my words reached him, stirring his blood still more.
"You're out of your head, Penny. Didn't you get enough already? Can't you straighten her out, Pig-eye? She'll be so damned fagged you won't get a damned thing out of her." Pig-eye shrugged, and kept his peace. Silently, I blessed him for letting me go on. He knew I had a mind of my own, that I wasn't just a plaything.
Our words had carried, and now some of the others began to eddy back into the lounge, smiling at the quality of our confrontation.
"Oh, go on, Charley," one of them cried. "She's got a treat for you, it sounds like. Let her do it."
"Yeah, go on. This oughta be good." Others chimed in, adding their unconscious weight to my side.
Charley slowly looked around, realizing he was the center of their attention. This decided him. Attention he loved and craved. His desire for adulation had led him to establish this house, victimize his customers and build up a gang of bestial-minded thugs, commanding their respect by fear and their impotent desires to emulate him.
He smiled, basking in the reflected glow of the power that flowed from the desire of men to see others humiliated as themselves. I was sure that Harry, at least, had been coerced into the group as a result of some sexual indiscretion, for how else would a doctor be brought to join such a criminal enterprise? He, like the others, smiled at the prospect of a vicarious revenge.
He turned to me and unfastened his pants, saying, as they dropped to the floor, "All right, Penny my dear, let's see what you've thought up. It had better be good, or maybe I'll put you through that swinging routine again." He drew it out, enjoying the unexpected surge of supremacy my pleading had brought him.
I looked, in ascetic fear, at the arrogantly erect symbol of his evil, so similar, except in size, to the tool that would soon be splitting Carrie from stem to stern, so similar to Rod's, which meant only love to me. I licked my lips and fell to my knees before it, grasped it with my hands, stroked it, fondled the wrinkled, pendulous sack that adorned its root, unhooded its head, unleashed its heady odor, so similar to the scent of love, and yet so different. Such a wonderful thing, when judged alone. I almost regretted what I was about to do.
I folded my smooth lips about its girth, swabbed its swollen, throbbing head and probed the tiny slit with my slender tongue, soon had him gasping at my skilled and tender mercies. Slowly, I engulfed him, gliding my working lips and tongue down his hairy length, stopping only when I felt him pressing against the satiny surface of the back of my mouth, the fleshy pendulum rubbing his sensitive surface as I moved. He'd been there before, but still he groaned as my fingers stroked up his thighs, around his hips, gripped his buttocks and held him tightly in my close embrace.
Only then did I begin my new conception. Slowly I straightened my neck, still keeping my deep hold upon him, and pushed down, angling his pillar till it was aligned with my throat. Suddenly I shifted downward on him, swallowing at the same time, so that he was lodged, in all his throbbing vigor, deep in my throat, with my parted lips inhaling the hairs of his crotch.
I swallowed, letting the smooth working of those muscles rub against him, massaging more intimately and firmly than he had thought possible, thrilling him as he had never been thrilled before, fulfilling my promise, though I had to fight with all my strength to keep from gagging at the vile intrusion. Slowly I moved back and forth upon him, swallowing all the while, giving him the tightest fit in his eternity, stroking him up to the final climax. Swiftly he came to the verge of explosion, and I held him there, ceasing when his muscles tensed too much, when another stroke would set him off.
At last he reached the point where he was almost wholly oblivious of everything except my sensuous touch, my assiduous tongue, wallowing in the pure sensation of incipient orgasm. I steeled myself to the final deed, closed my eyes and gritted the teeth of my soul. I rapidly, repeatedly, plunged upon his gross member until I could feel him tensing for the final ejaculation, felt the sudden rush of fluid in his tube so firm against my lips, quickly withdrew till only half his organ remained within my mouth, and abruptly clamped my teeth upon him.
I felt and heard the tissues part before the inexorable drive of ivory, felt and tasted the rush of mingled pungent sperm and salty blood into my mouth, heard his awful scream as the realization of what I'd done; penetrated through his climactic daze.
I leaped back, leaving his nearly severed fount of blood and gore behind, spat out his crimson juices, proudly stood, triumphant Victory pounding her wings about my ears.
It seemed that I was the only one in the room, other than the unconscious body rapidly ceasing to be Charley as the blood pooled between its thighs, steadily pumping now from the suddenly deflated, pitifully broken, penis. My growing awareness of the enormity of my action, an awareness free to pang my conscience now that my life was mine, was broken by a shout.
"Lookit! He's dying! Look what she did, look at her! It was deliberate, she killed him!" But nobody went to his aid. The speaker, whoever he was, seemed frantic, as though he regretted the death, wanted my head, wanted to see me pay. Pig-eye burst in, though, and calmed my suddenly panicky thoughts.
"Shut up! We've all wished we could kill him ourselves often enough. She's done us all a favor. Remember that!"
Kurt stood dumfounded in the background, gun in his hand, eyes shuttling over the men. He didn't know what to do. His master dead, the foe before him, but who would tell him what to do?
"Yes, that's right," Harry said slowly, musingly. "I can fix it so no one will know how he died, and I'll be glad to, too."
"We can plant him out back, just like he used to do. He sure never needed much of an excuse to put one of us there."
"What about Carrie, though. She has to know, or go. And we'll never be safe with her running around." Practical Pig-eye, worrying more about the future than the present, saving his exultation for a later moment. Perhaps he remembered our conversations and now was following through.
I hoped, I feared, I summoned my courage once again, and spoke in a trembling voice. I didn't want to be noticed, and I'd been quiet through their comments. Now, though, I felt it was my moment to speak. I had to be sure the task was finished. "Don't worry about Carrie. As long as we're in Charley's house, we ought to live in it the way he wanted us to." I fought to still the shaking. "Somebody has to pay the undertaker."
I turned to Kurt, so woebegone and confused. He had been unable to protect his master, though how could a man be protected against that kind of attack? Perhaps it was that thought that was bothering him. "Kurt, wouldn't you like to have Carrie? Wouldn't she be a nice piece for you?" I couldn't help myself. He was a brute beast, and I was tempting him with a tidbit.
His face brightened, though, as he looked for her, found her standing near the door, staring aghast at the plotting crowd. Kurt's toothy grin lit up the room, and I began to laugh hysterically, unable to stop, the relief from tension driving the peels of tearful gaiety up the scale, but she blanched as she saw what the future held in store for her. She turned and tried to run, silent, white, but was snatched back as three strong pairs of hands caught at her clothes.
Pig-eye slapped me once to jar me from my fit, and when I was quiet went to Carrie, standing silently enmeshed in the hands of her captors. "You're not going anywhere, Carrie. Penny's got a real good idea. With you out of the way we can all breathe easier." She screamed and tried to struggle, but they held her too firmly and she had to submit as they led her away. I saw in Pig-eye's parting glance that he did know the meaning of our conversations. He seemed to approve, and I knew I could leave the details to him now. He would find the secret of the documents and see that they were destroyed.
With a ragged sigh I turned to leave and headed for my room. Everything was going just as I had hoped. Soon I would be able to leave. I didn't care to watch as the lounge was cleaned up, Charley's body removed to await the grave. I would wait alone, dreaming of the soon-to-be-realized heaven with my Rod.
Natalie soon joined me, shuddering with shock at the scene she'd witnessed. "So that's what you were planning to do to him. Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's really simple, honey. I knew it would hit you kinda hard. I didn't want to take the chance you couldn't stomach it. You might have told someone, and that would have ruined it, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah, I suppose I might have. It was pretty gruesome, but he did deserve it. It couldn't have happened to a better guy." She grinned, accepting my reasons, not knowing there was another.
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the morning I was put on the grave digging detail. I must admit it was only just. They thought I should help clean up the mess I had caused, and I had to agree, though the work was as severe a punishment as any I ever hope to get. They may not have meant it as such, but such it was, and I straightened from the trench with an aching back and blistered palms to watch the informal procession bearing Charley in his coffin and leading Carrie like a sacrificial lamb. My heart lightened in spite of my new aches, and I scrambled from the hole to stand eagerly awaiting them, shovel in hand.
While Kurt lowered the wooden coffin into the earth, Carrie stood nudely by, lightly held on either side, head bowed, face white with fear, as unattractive as the first time I saw her in her own room.
Unmoving from the spot, Kurt then swiveled toward her and stripped off his trousers, revealing his huge prick. As his gaze slowly traversed her wrinkled form, resting in turn on her pendulous breasts and withering nest of long past loves, he swelled and stiffened, taking on fantastic dimensions, enough to make a mare whinny with desire at the stalwart sight. His hands stretched out, reaching for his unwilling victim, and his eyes gleamed with the anticipation of his bloody pleasures.
I don't believe there is, or ever was, a woman who could possibly encompass his grotesque tool, but, still, he plainly hoped that one day he would find one. Till then, this was the only way he could ever plant his seed.
He approached, she stiffened, screamed, made one last effort to free herself, and rained curses on our heads, especially mine, but all was fruitless. Like an implacable Juggernaut, he came on. Like inflexible chains, her bailiffs held her for his onslaught.
He seized her, and she went limp, passively permitting the brutal spreading of her thighs. His great spear knocked dully at her door, pressed on, its bulbous tip spreading the folds of the entrance. We were all gathered where we could see, and we solemnly watched the enactment of our freedom. She had given up all secrets but one, and this was the last. This was the end of tyranny.
Kurt strove against mighty resistance, against the rigid props provided by the two that held her. He strained to get it in, pushed into the fear-blanched membranes till the folds distended to swallow just his tip, swathing it in a light pinkness of stretched tissue. He lurched and forced another inch, and the blood began to flow, accompanied by her first thin, wailing cry.
He lurched again, and burst all barriers asunder. He reached the natural end of her passage, drew back and thrust again with all his strength, seating all of his unbelievable length. She screamed again, a loud and hearty sound this time, the last she ever uttered, and fainted as the blood burst from her mouth in a gushing stream, staining Kurt's chest and reddening the ground.
He did not stop, but now began to pound against her inert body, as it fell to the ground, abandoned by its supports. He grunted and groaned, howled and pounded on. We could see the force of his conclusion, as he jolted to a sudden stop, clutched the bloody pulp to his loins, and sagged as his power was sapped.
He lay there for several minutes before sluggishly rolling from his victim, a bloody ruin which nearly turned my stomach, even though I was happy that she was gone, and gone in as miserable a way as she had permitted for others, gone in the misery she had fostered in others. Her death was ugly, sickening, but relief conquered all other feelings. My stomach soon settled, though some others did not.
He finally rose to hurl her body into the pit, atop the coffin. I hurled the first clod with the shovel I had kept and helped to fill in the hole, smooth the mound and place the marker. I thought its inscription was appropriate: "Charley and Carrie Mathews, R.I.P." Rot in Perdition.
Kurt silently and expressionlessly preceded us on the way back to the house. We stopped once while he stepped into the large pool in the brook to wash the congealing blood from his body and put his clothes back on. He was still silent when we walked on, but that was no surprise, really. He was usually quiet, with little to say, but now he seemed more relaxed, as if he were happy to have them both finally removed from his life. His dip in the cool waters had removed the last traces of their existence from his body, and I wished I could as easily remove them from mine.
I wondered what hold they had had over him, other than the promise of occasional gratification of his sexual needs. Murder had certainly been a threat, but that must still exist, even with no one threatening him with exposure. Perhaps someday someone would, but for now he seemed happy. We all were. The shadow was gone, though it lingered for me. How could I tell Rod of my escape? Would he understand?
It didn't take us long to dress and gather up our things from our rooms, and soon we were all gathered in the lounge, waiting for someone to make the first move toward leaving, waiting for someone to say something.
Our protracted silence was broken when Pig-eye cleared his throat to speak. "Anyone need a ride anywhere?"
No one answered. The situation was too new, too fraught with an unknown guilt. He repeated his question with a dull patience. He, too, was unsure of himself now.
One of the girls answered, and then several more, but he looked at me. "Penny, don't you want to go anywhere?"
"If you'd drop me off in Millinocket, I'd appreciate it."
I was the only one who wanted to go there, but Rod was waiting. I wanted to go to him, cleanse my soul in his love, and, even though I could never tell him why, feel forgiven.