The grass always seems to be greener on upper crust lawns. And the key word is "seems." More often than not, this is not the case at all.
It wasn't the case for Serena, who married her way up in the world in order to have some of the finer things in life. She had all the things she wanted but one-cock. And a little frill to sexuality which Serena, always a swinger when she was young, used to enjoy.
Well, it wasn't exactly a frill. It was more like a lash, or a leather belt. Serena did enjoy a little pain with her pleasure.
But Serena was trapped in a gilded cage, with two children she didn't know how to raise, and a husband who seemed more or less indifferent to her, and probably would have died of shock if he knew what was really bothering her.
He knew the marriage wasn't up to par, but then it wasn't the pits, either. Mr. James Charles Simon Caruthers was busy building an empire, and his wife and children were part of his domain. He cared for them and he brought the money home, and he was discreet about his philandering, so why should Serena fuss over a cooled off affair.
And so it would have continued, if Serena hadn't decided that the kids were just too much for her, and hired a French governess for them. Marie opened a can of worms, and fanned the flame, long dormant in Serena's breast.
CHAPTER ONE
Serena gazed down the long white linen expanse of the dining room table at The Wall Street Journal. Behind the bold-faced predictions of financial disaster glaring at her in black, she could hear the slurping of her husband, savoring his coffee.
It had been two years since she had seen his face at the table.
"Yes, Marvin, thank you," she murmured to the immaculate butler, standing at her side with a silver pot of coffee. The butler poured and Serena stewed.
To her right and left, James Jr. and Leticia (named after her husband's miserable mother) made messes, carping at each other, and at their unheeding parents.
In the hall, the mahogany Grandfather clock, with the sterling silver pendulum, struck the quarter hour, as meticulously as Marvin poured, as meticulously as Martha, his wife cleaned, and as meticulous and drawn-out as her days were, planned to the last minute.
Serena yawned. Fifteen more interminable minutes before Marie, the new French governess, was to report to work. She came with the usual meticulous credentials, required in the Caruthers establishment. God forbid this mausoleum, this museum of wealth and taste should be called a home.
Even the ill-mannered, obstreperous children, were meticulously picked-up-after, so there were no clues around to remind Serena that she was a mother, as well as a wife, social surrogate, and family asset.
Serena gazed at the four-carat diamond, glittering on the fourth finger of her left hand. She twisted her hand, watching the facets pick up the light, flashing blue and pink and silver in the morning sun.
Serena had worked long and hard to get that diamond, and it was one of the joys of her life. She remembered how she had felt, the romantic evening that James had given it to her.
She hadn't loved James. She liked him well enough, and he was a gentleman, something that was very rare in Serena's rough-and-ready life.
He had taken her to a swank restaurant. Serena, at the time unfamiliar with social customs and fashions among the upper crust, had been gaudily dressed. Her tacky attire did nothing to hide her blatant tawny charms. Instead of being treated to the clucking of disapproving tongues, many of the upper-crust habitues of the restaurant thought they would give up a diamond, and an afternoon or two, to dress the woman properly, thereby enhancing her incredible red-headed beauty.
Serena yawned again. Where was that governess!
Serena couldn't seem to handle her children, and James and she had decided that they needed a firm hand. James's miserable mother had suggested a French governess.
The silver coffee pot flashed like a mirror in the morning sun.
The Wall Street Journal swatted to the table.
"Well, where is she!" Serena almost gasped. There sat her husband, flawlessly attired in his Pierre Cardin suit and his Lapidus tie. The jaw muscles on his lean, handsome face were working.
"I am late for work," he said, staring straight ahead, almost through Serena.
"I'm sorry, darling. She is due to report at eight, as I said."
"She could be a little early. I haven't left this late for the office since Leticia was born."
Serena smiled, and the doorbell rang.
A moment later, Marvin stood in the doorway. "Mademoiselle Marie La Follette." Marvin stepped aside with all the aplomb of a master of ceremonies, and ushered into the room a vision of feminine succulence.
Marie was tall-unusually so for her Gallic background-and built like a country-bred Swede. Her legs were long and shapely, her hair thick and reddish-brown. Her large blue eyes were fringed with the longest, thickest brown lashes Serena had ever seen.
Serena almost got jealous, and she was no mean looker herself!
But what arrested the attention of the family even more, as Marie glided into the room, was an air of authority that exuded from her.
"Bon jour, Madame," Marie said, extending her papers, as she approached Serena.
"Uhh, good morning, mademoiselle," Serena stuttered, flabbergasted with the woman's assurance. The agency, who had spent six months looking for the woman for her, had warned her that French governesses were very difficult to find, and harder to keep. They had warned her to step lightly.
But none of their warnings, of which Serena was already familiar from her friends, among whom she had asked about help for the children, had prepared her for the-well-the dominatrix who appeared before her now!
"Good morning," her husband beamed. Serena arched her eyebrows, as she watched her husband's eyes. Serena was well aware of, and resigned to her husband's playmates. She had decided long ago, that as long as he wasn't blatant, she could tolerate it.
What she wanted was a little more specialized, and therefore, harder to find, but this was no time for those speculations, thought Serena, reluctantly interrupting her stream-of-consciousness to study the papers which Marie had handed her.
"Bon jour, Monsieur," Marie said, "Et bon jour, mes enfants!" she said, greeting the children.
James Jr. and Leticia had been struck dumb by the apparition before them. They both looked at each other, and there was a note of fear in their faces.
They were not stupid children, just badly brought up, and they were both well aware of the latitude they had. They sensed the firmness in this woman, and almost simultaneously understood that a new order had come to the household.
Leticia was the first to act on her suspicions. Serena had looked up at Marie, suddenly remembering her manners.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," she smiled. "Do be seated." She rang the crystal bell which sat by her plate, and Marvin appeared immediately.
"Yes, Madame?"
"Coffee, and breakfast for Marie. Marie, this is Marvin, our good right hand. Marvin, Marie is our new French governess."
"Good morning, Marie," Marvin smiled, grinning lop-sidedly at the two children. Leticia bridled, sensing the mockery in the smile. James, Jr. merely smarted under the grin, and plotted a subtle revenge. He was a chip off the old block!
While Marie and Marvin were exchanging rather formal greetings, Leticia, more like her mother in her heyday, picked up a piece of toast, and flicked it with deadly accuracy. It landed smack in the middle of Marie's forehead.
Marie looked at her with a calm, self-assured demeanor, and walked quickly around the table, to where Leticia sat. Pulling Leticia up firmly by the elbow, Marie sat in Leticia's seat, and pulled Leticia over her shapely knees, and with easy grace, lifted her skirt, and paddled quite firmly, five or six times, on Leticia's adorable, round bottom.
Leticia was too shocked to respond immediately, and Leticia was past mistress at the art of tantrum-throwing. As Marie lifted her off her knees, pulling her skirt down carefully, and patting it neatly into place, Leticia merely stood, wide-eyed, her jaw slack, staring at the lovely woman who was looking so sternly at her.
"My little one, you will never, never do that again. It is rude and boorish, and I will not have rude nor boorish charges in my care!" Marie got up, sat the stunned Leticia down in her seat, and went around to her own seat.
Marvin was twitching, his face jerking in funny little spasms, as he obviously attempted to suppress the laughter. But his eyes danced, all the same.
Mr. Caruthers had acquired a smug look. "Good, that's just what the little demons need.
You are welcome indeed," he said to Marie, his eyes at about the level of her well-developed breasts. Then he wiped his mouth with the white linen napkin, went over to plant a cursory kiss on his wife's cheek, and headed for the door, The Wall Street Journal tidily tucked under his elbow.
"I'll see you for dinner, dear. Goodbye James, Leticia. I know you'll be good today!"
He beamed at Marie, and sailed out the door, Marvin in tow with his hat and briefcase.
Serena had sat down. She, too, was shocked. Not that Marie had paddled her daughter for the first time in her young life. She was well aware that they both needed a few spankings to straighten them out. They were spoiled rotten,-and Serena just didn't know how to handle them.
What boggled her mind was the sudden resurgence of old feelings, old desires, and the memories of an old life, which she had abandoned for what she thought were better things. Serena was creaming in her panties.
Not that that didn't happen frequently, particularly when she was bored and her mind wandered, which it did a lot, since she was almost perpetually bored. But she had never felt such a gush of cream, such a spurt of longing for another woman, not since the day, after months of scheming, and lying, and finagling, that James Charles Simon Caruthers had planted the diamond on her fourth finger left hand, and asked her to be his wife.
But murder will out, and so will the natural bent of a human personality, and Serena was fighting that nature now. She looked at the well-endowed beauty, now sitting beside James, her eyes traveling over the large, melon-like breasts, down to the trim waist and the flat belly, to her hips.
She was fascinated and unutterably drawn to the woman. And she was unutterably upset She had sworn off her former, wild life. Serena the temptress, she of the insatiable sexual appetite, the hellion, the high liver.
Lowering like a ghost in the meticulously appointed dining room, breathing the hot air of sex down her neck, and causing her to perspire, was the dragon of her old life, the one she had foresworn to become Mrs. Caruthers.
Serena felt faint.
"Marie, Martha will show you to your room. Please make yourself at home. Children, I expect you to behave. I am ... err ... gbing to my room to prepare for the Ladies' Auxiliary meeting. We shall be using the drawing room."
She sailed out of the room, wafted up the lovely, circular staircase, and into her room. Once in the room, she slammed the door, and leaned against it, panting.
Her pussy was twitching. She was remembering times when she had been spanked, and she was no six-year-old girl. Her hand strayed to her pussy, and she touched it faintly through the satin dressing gown.
She went into the bathroom, closed and locked the door, and threw the gown off. She went to the full-length mirror, to look at her naked body. There she stood, glowing with a slightly-faded loveliness. Her hair was auburn red, her eyes large, almond-shaped, and deep brown. Her skin had a peaches and cream hue that was stunning, still.
But she winced, as her eyes traveled down. The incredible shape of her long-limbed, long-waisted body, with the full breasts and hips was slightly blurred, not so much with time, as with neglect. It had been months since James had visited her bedroom, and lack of care in him had caused a similar lack of care in herself.
She ate to feed her frustration, to soothe away the long, boring, idle hours. And she wondered at the choice she had made in life. She felt her eyes stinging with unshed tears, as she saw how dowdy she had become.
Superimposed upon the image in the mirror, she saw with a growing nostalgia, the adventuress she had once been. She was a dancer, and she spent most of her young adult years in cabarets all over the world. She had had a passion for traveling that almost equalled her passion for the opposite sex, and for her own sex.
And suddenly, as she stood, looking at herself in the mirror, she was transported to Paris-the Paris of nine years ago, at the time when she first met her husband. And the scene was typical of the old Serena-Serena Sawyer, from Chicago, the brash, glorious, daring dancer, who could strip as no woman could.
In her mind's eye, as her long, lovely fingers sought her steaming cunt, she was backstage, at intermission. She was sitting on the make-up table, her legs spread wide, and between her legs was a very busy, round little feminine face licking and biting her twitching pussy. Serena had seduced the little teenaged dancer, who was now eagerly licking out her twitching pussy.
Serena's head was thrown back in ecstasy, as she felt the soft, wet tongue flicking in and out of her sticky wet labia. Occasionally, the little teeth would nip at her clitoris, causing Serena to gasp sharply with pleasure and pain. And that was Serena's game, pleasure and pain. And it was that combination for which she strove in all her encounters.
Serena moaned, her fingers moving faster.
She fell to her knees on the heavily carpeted floor, as she felt the rising glory in her twat, as she frigged herself, felt the cream pouring from between her pussy lips. Her hand was a blur of motion as she strove to relieve the pent-up sexuality that had been stored so long, unused, unspent.
And the tears were flowing freely down her lovely face, tears of joy mixed with the tears of frustration. She moaned, and bent over, her forehead pressed against the thick carpet of the luxurious white marble bathroom.
Then she felt it, the small pinpoint of heat that spread in concentric waves up to her belly, causing small prickly sensations on her skin, making the goose bumps rise. And it wasn't enough. She pinched her clitoris hard with her two long fingernails, and winced as she felt the sharp pain skitter through her, until her ears were buzzing.
She gritted her teeth against the cry of pleasure she felt rising in her throat. Her breath was coming in quick, rasping gasps, as she felt the first heavy spasms of her orgasm.
Her body heaved over, and she landed in a twitching heap on the carpet, her legs jerking wildly, her face shining with sweat as she came in violent, spasms, which coursed through her body, like lightning courses through a summer sky.
Serena lay there, still rapidly fingering herself, as she felt the after-spasms of her orgasm rip through her.
She wasn't satisfied.
What was wrong with her, she thought, as her finger sought to further stimulate her still wildly twitching clitoris. She always loved sex, always achieved such magnificent orgasms, always looked forward to the next encounter, with an eagerness that was as attractive to the opposite sex, or the same sex bent on a lesbian encounter, as her obvious physical assets.
She could feel her clitoris climbing again, almost screaming at her in its demand for release.
Relentlessly, she tortured the little love button, harder and harder, trying to make it come quickly, and as violently as possible.
Serena longed to be possessed by a man, taken powerfully, and released from any need to play an active part. She wanted to be made to feel small, helpless, passive in the arms of some macho brute. And Serena's husband was no brute, nor any kind of macho.
She recalled the look on her husband's face, as he gazed at the French governess.
"No," she muttered to herself, her face a mask of lust as her orgasm began to peak, "he wouldn't shit where he lived. He couldn't, couldn't!" she wailed as her spasms crested.
"Ahhhh!" she gasped, her frigging finger slowing down, as the wave of passion subsided She lay, spent, listening to the sound of her breathing, enjoying the after-spasms of her climax, for a long time, until the demands on her time caught up with her sensuous wallowing in her own naked body.
She got up reluctantly, and turned on the shower. The ladies were due at ten-thirty, and she had to be there to greet them.
While she enjoyed the warm spray from the shower, her face became grave. Well, so the new French governess had arrived. And with one simple spanking, she had set Serena free from the chains of her long illusion, the sense that she was normal.
And Serena had paid the price for that illusion, in boredom, in a flabby figure, in the slightly smug, sour look that had settled on her face. Well, this could not go on. She did not enjoy bridge parties, backgammon, Ladies' Auxiliary meetings. Lately, she did not even enjoy her dull husband.
And as she soaped down, she realized that she had to do something about her life. Her anger rose as she thought of her husband's philandering. You'd think he would have learned something from those strumpets about pleasing a woman, she thought bitterly to herself.
As she stepped out of the tub, she turned to the mirror again. And now she was ashamed. Well, she thought, gingerly turning from right to left, noting the sag in her shoulders, the slight paunch to the belly, the lack of luster in the soft, deep brown eyes, something has to be done about it, and now. IT James flits around, maybe it's because there isn't too much, these days, to come home to.
And Marie. There was a quick flash in the dull brown eyes, a sudden twitch to the set mouth.
"All right!" said Serena, to her reflected image. "You will do something about it."
She positively smiled and purred. "You are what you are, darling, even though you have been hiding from it all these years, living such a lie."
Serena went up to the mirror, and pressed her body against it, and then pushed her mouth against it, flicking' her tongue out, feeling the cold kiss of the indifferent glass. She arched away from the mirror, pressing her hands against it, and looked down at her hips and legs.
"I want them both," she muttered, grinding her teeth. "I want both of them-Marie and James."
For a long moment, she stood there, trembling, feeling her pussy quivering, unsatisfied with the frigging she had just given it.
When she looked up, and into the mirror again, there was a hint of the old fire in Serena's eyes, a marked uplift to the face.
"And I'm going to have them both," she said simply, running her hands over her breasts, and her belly, lightly fingering her still quivering clitoris.
She turned abruptly from the mirror, and proceeded with another dull day, swearing to herself that this would be the last dull day she ever had.
CHAPTER TWO
The meeting was conducted according to Robert's Rules of Order, with Serena presiding as Chairwoman. The discussion of the day was the possible acquisition of a rather unusual Surrealistic masterpiece, discovered by one of the women at an auction.
The painting was to go up for sale the following day. Mrs. Smythe-Holmes was positive that it would be a gem for the library.
Serena stifled her yawns, and smoked excessively, trying to avoid the delicacies she had prepared for the group. She listened to them talking about "abraded sensibilities,"
"A sense of outraged decorum," and "scandal," until she almost screamed from the futility of it all.
"Ladies," Serena said firmly. "We are all out of order. Alice, darling, you had something to say, and then you Alicia, and then you, Patricia. Anyone else who wishes to contribute to the conversation shall raise her hand, and the Chair will acknowledge you."
"I move that...."
"No, Alice, the motion has already been made and seconded. We are discussing, Alice, discussing!"
There were a few raised eyebrows, and some nods of approval among the older women. Serena was noted for being easy going, with a charming, slightly bored look about her, that the ladies in her social set took for her particular style of savoir faire. Little did they know! Her present firmness was pleasing to them.
Serena chaired the rest of the meeting firmly, watching the women's bodies, assessing their sexual assets, frankly, something she would not have done at seven-forty-five this morning, just before Marie arrived.
Serena knew that she had been assessing female bodies for quite some time. As a matter-of-fact, women, especially attractive women, had always turned her on. In the last few years however, she was assessing feminine sexual assets, not as a woman proud of her own assets, but in a comparative sense.
Serena knew she had been going to pot, passively, resignedly, and, until the advent of Marie, inevitably. She could always spot the flaw in a body, and she knew as she looked these women up and down, now, that it was because she was painfully aware of her own self-induced flaws.
As Serena contemplated the women, she noticed Alicia twitching in her seat. It wasn't the twitching of a woman impatient to speak, she thought, smirking. Either Alicia had got some very good nookie the night before, or she was anticipating some of same.
Serena's pussy was weeping for hunger. The old Serena would have known where to go to get what she wanted, and it would have always been available to her, but now that she was a respectable married lady....
Just what the hell was respectable, she thought, suddenly disgruntled. If only she could make herself over. But that was not what she wanted. Her heart cried for the unvarnished hellion of old, the charmer.
Serena had made a decision this morning. She didn't want to be a new woman, to make herself over. She was going to dig to find the old Serena, the sexy, brazen, gorgeous, daring woman she used to be. And she was going to find the old Serena, because she knew the old Serena had captured her husband initially, and she intended to recapture him, and Marie too.
Serena always insisted on having her cake and eating it, too, and Serena always got her way, before she had transformed herself into a plastic model, to please her husband, and her husband's displeased family.
But Serena was also unsure about her decision. She wondered just how perverted she was. There had always been that doubt, and that doubt had added titillation to her sexual adventures. But this was a different story. She didn't know if she loved her husband when she married him. She knew he came from a well-to-do family, and Serena was attracted to his social graces, to his education, his charm, and his manners.
Serena had decided to capture both worlds. She certainly missed the old one. Her pussy twitched again, as a motion was made to adjourn the meeting, the decision about the painting being tabled while several of the women went to the auction house to study its merits. There would be a hurried breakfast meeting at Alicia's house in the morning to resolve the issue.
Luncheon was served on the patio. Serena toyed with her food, but ate nothing. And finally, at about one-thirty, the women said their goodbye's, and Serena sighed with relief. The ordeal was over, for now.
Before pursuing her plans, which had been formulated clearly during luncheon, she decided to check in on the children. As she reached the children's romp room, where Marvin said they had been all morning, James Jr. came rushing toward her, crying.
"Mother, she hit me!" he cried, pointing an accusatory finger at Marie.
"Well dear," said Serena, smiling down at her handsome son, the image of his father, "you must have deserved it."
Then, after a few cursory comments, and questions, to determine if Marie were happy, she sailed out of the room, bent on her own quest for ultimate happiness.
Her first stop was the bedroom. She kicked off her shoes, and lay back on the bed. She was supposed to meet Mrs. Penrose for an afternoon shopping spree, but instead, she called Mrs. Penrose and told her that she was exhausted after the exciting meeting, spending some time describing the issue at hand.
Mrs. Penrose decided that she would go to the auction house to look at the scandalous painting with which the Ladies' Auxiliary hoped to deck out the library, instead.
Serena lay back on the bed, and dozed. And her dreams conjured up the old life, as the mirror this morning had done. Even the gnawing hunger was a familiar sensation-a reminder to Serena that life hadn't always been so posh.
It had been a private party, the one that Serena was dreaming about. She had had a particularly successful show that evening. The dancing company was in Madrid. After the show, when she went backstage, she had found a huge bouquet of roses with a note attached.
It said, "You are adorable. I shall meet you at twelve p.m. at el Cantador."
Not, "Please," or "May I?" None of the timid, adoring requests of most of her fans. It was a command. And Serena adored commands!
The dozing Serena stirred on the bed, her head moving restlessly from side to side, as she remembered dressing quickly, and walking the short distance from the theater to the night club. She was filled with a sense of adventure.
Aside from the command, there was no way of knowing what the man looked like, or who he was, and Serena really didn't care. When she arrived at the door, the doorman looked at her, and bowed.
"This way, Senorita. You are at table 'one'.
Serena's eyes danced, and her heart beat excitedly. She couldn't wait to meet the man, and she gasped with pleasure, as she saw him, sitting alone at a beautifully situated table.
He rose, dark eyes glowing, his black hair refracting blue highlights in the dim candlelight with which the room was lit. And he was handsome! Serena's heart rose to her mouth and she swallowed hard, as she felt her pussy cream.
"Good evening, Serena," he said, smiling sexily.
"Good evening, Senor. I am sorry I cannot return the compliment of knowing your name."
"Manuel."
"Oh," said Serena, slightly abashed at his brusqueness. "How did the doorman know who I was?"
"He knew," Manuel said, snapping his fingers for a waiter. Without consulting Serena as to her wishes, he ordered wine, and dinner for the two of them. It was superb, and much to Serena's liking, but as the meal progressed, she became slightly anxious. The man proffered no stories, made no jokes, told her nothing about himself, and Serena, who had been rattling blithely on, was suddenly silenced. Dessert and an exquisite Spanish wine passed, appreciated in silence. Again Manuel snapped his fingers for the waiter, who presented the check, which he signed. Then he rose abruptly, and taking Serena by the elbow, he escorted her out of the night club, and into a waiting limousine.
They drove for about an hour, arriving finally at a palatial residence that looked like a leftover from the age of the Spanish Grandee. In silence, they sipped cordials in a huge, high-ceilinged room, with a massive fireplace.
Then Manuel got up, and approached her smiling.
"You are the kind of woman I desire," he said. "I knew, the moment I laid eyes on you, that I would have you."
He pulled her roughly out of the velvet chair in which she had been sitting, and kissed her roughly. Then he smiled at her again, and steered her toward the huge, marble staircase in the great hall.
Serena's heart was pounding in her chest, as he steered her up the stairs, down a long corridor, and into a huge bedroom, with a canopied bed. The room was beautiful, furnished in heavy mahogany and teakwood pieces, the soft polished sheen of the wood offset by the heavy, clear red drapes and bedspread.
This was the kind of adventure that Serena adored. And it was certainly different from any she had ever had before, in her travels. Her cunt was creaming for this tall, handsome, silent man. And her sexual excitement was heightened by the knowledge that this man was not going to be gentle.
"Get undressed," he commanded, as he began to remove his own clothes. Serena decided to play it to the hilt.
"No," she purred, embracing the post of the canopied bed. The man raised his expressive, thick dark eyebrows.
"No?" he questioned.
"No." said Serena, smiling coyly.
"Then perhaps we will have to undress you ourself," said the man, smiling, the glow in his eyes deepening with an impending lust, that made Serena shiver.
He had removed his jacket and tie at this point, and he desisted in his undressing efforts, as he moved swiftly to Serena, still embracing the bed post.
With one swift, not-too-gentle movement, he had ripped her black silk gown off her back. Serena wore no underwear. Her perfect, well-trained dancer's body did not require any. Nor had she worn any panty hose.
She gasped at the suddenness of the move, and then she became angry, fire lighting her dark brown eyes.
"Look what you've done to my dress, you bastard!"
She didn't know she had been slapped in the face, until she felt herself bouncing on the soft mattress of the bed, stars in her eyes. He moved like a matador, and he had the strength of a bull. Serena gazed up at him with wide-open, surprised eyes.
He was standing over her, his legs slightly spread, the white collar of his evening shirt open at the neck, revealing a very hairy chest. Serena could feel the sticky residue of her cream between her thighs, which she had bunched up until her knees were almost pressing against her huge, lovely breasts.
"A woman does not address a man in those terms. They are disrespectful, and unbecoming. I shall have to teach you a lesson in manners. American women need such lessons, more than women from other countries," he said, his hands going to the buckle on his belt.
Serena watched, fascinated, as his long, powerful fingers undid the clasp of the silver buckle, and removed the belt from the waistband of his trousers.
She tried to move away from him, her face already wincing as she anticipated the first blow. She knew it was coming. She had hoped for it. It was part of her kinky nature to enjoy beatings, as long as she was not maimed or bruised.
The man raised his arm slowly, the belt snaking with brutal, coiled strength along his forearm. Then, with a practiced, deft flick, the belt landed on her folded haunches.
Serena screamed with the pain, and before she had finished her first scream, the belt landed again. Serena was holding onto the bed post for dear life, bracing herself against the smarting kiss of the leather belt against her bare flesh.
Her large, white haunches quivered, as the belt landed again, each blow leaving a red welt where it landed.
"N-n-nooooo, please," cried Serena, holding up her arm to her face to ward off the blows. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."
"Apologies are easily rendered. Reparation is another matter," growled Manuel, as he swung again, this time hitting her exposed tit.
The blows came fast and heavy, as Serena squealed, and writhed on the bed. And as the pain mounted, so did her passion.
At one point in Manuel's effective thrashing, she reached over, attempting to get to his crotch, to lower his zipper. She had been watching the growing bulge in his pants, with growing desire. And she wanted his cock, wanted it now, now.
"Oh, please," she murmured, trying to ward off the blows and get to Manuel's cock at the same time.
"Hahhh!" Manuel husked fiercely, grabbing her grasping hand with his free one. He wrenched her hand away from his zipper and threw her against the headboard of the bed, violently.
Serena cracked her head against the heavy wood, and was momentarily stunned. "So, you would behave like a whore?" Manuel hissed, dropping the belt. Swiftly, he removed his clothes, and as his pants were pulled down over his thighs, dropping in a lump at his ankles, his cock popped out, massive, angry red, and throbbing. Serena gasped as she saw his massive weapon.
"So," Manuel repeated, "You want to behave like a whore? I will treat you as one, you brazen slut!"
Roughly he reached over, and grabbing her ankles, pulled her down to the middle of the bed. Then he threw himself on top of her, and with no more foreplay than the whipping which had whipped her pussy into frenzied excitement, he thrust his huge cock into her, until his balls were slapping against her ass cheeks.
Serena moaned, from pain, and from the pleasure the pain was giving her. Her pussy was sufficiently lubricated so that Manuel had easy access, but his massive dork, and the violence of his thrusting were causing her acute discomfort, and that discomfort was further enhancing the rills of pleasure that were running through her.
She was still seeing stars. Her body ached from the tension of resisting Manuel's driving belt, but her pussy was starting to turn a mushy warm, soft glowing ball of fluff, and the fluff was spreading, easing out her tense and tortured muscles, as the warmth spread, slowly at first and then, as Manuel humped furiously into her now writhing hips, growing more insistent.
Serena was moaning as she drew her knees up, to get more of Manuel's huge, hot hammer into her creaming pussy. She reached up and threw her arms tightly around his sweating, thick neck. She felt his sweat pouring off his body, dropping onto her bruised and battered flesh.
Manuel increased the speed of his fucking, his head now buried in her neck, his teeth biting hard on her earlobe.
"So, whore, how do you like to be fucked like a whore."
"Mmmmm...." husked Serena, giving herself up to the pleasure that was driving through her in huge waves, rendering her mad with ecstasy.
"Slut, cunt! You think you can tease a man with that body, and not give yourself to him. Take it, you sleazy whore. Take ... my ... cock!" And with each word, Manuel drove into her, beating her creaming pussy with the violence of his fucking.
Serena started to wail, as her orgasm hit her throat. She felt her pussy muscles contracting and expanding around Manuel's thrusting pleasure pole. She felt her whole body go stiff as the flashes of sweet hot ecstatic pain drove through her. She arched her hips up onto Manuel's sex-sword, feeling herself pierced to the most secret depths of her womanhood, feeling the pain grip her and drive her to pleasure; feeling the pleasure explode within her into a thousand slivers of quaking, writhing delight.
Her orgasm was a long and fierce one, and as it subsided slightly, fading away slowly, ponderously, she felt Manuel's cock grow and twitch in her slowly relaxing pussy.
He started to come, grunting, muttering obscenities in her ear. He came violently, hammering his hips into her bruised and swollen pussy, torturing her with the violent driving of his pleasure pole. She felt his come spurt into her still-creaming snatch spurting up, up into her woman-hole, easing the inflamed walls of her brutalized snatch.
As he came, he reached under her buttocks, and pulled her hips up onto his driving dork, which was slamming home heavily, giving Serena a sexual beating such as her cunt had never known before.
His assumption was that she would acquiesce. She certainly did! She could feel the orgasmic rills still rippling through her, as Manuel, in an incredibly protracted orgasm, ejaculated long, thick, and massive streams of cream into her cunt.
She could feel his sweat pouring off him, onto her, bathing their two bodies, causing lewd, wet, smacking sounds as their bodies met in the copulatory ritual that has been the center of man's attention since the world began and Adam began playing with his penis, and Eve with her cunt.
Serena was moaning heavily, as Manuel pounded mindlessly into her. Their combined come-juices were slurping around in Serena's cunt, coating Manuel's cock and making it gleam on the out-stroke. The wet, sticky noises filled the air, adding to the heavy sexual atmosphere.
Manuel had turned into a mindless beast.
As Serena felt another orgasm sweep over her, she realized that Manuel was still coming. She hugged him close. She would probably never see him again.
Finally, he collapsed on top of her, gasping, wheezing, his chest heaving with the attempt to fill his tortured lungs with air. Serena had almost fainted with the violence of her own orgasm.
She lay passive beneath his powerful body, his victim, his prey, his property, a mere piece of flesh for him to do with as he would.
And he used her, brutally all night. And Serena came all night, came in great gushing waves of cream, and writhing, and moaning, and screaming. At dawn, he got off her as abruptly as he had mounted her. He sauntered to the bathroom, and took a shower, casually, inviting her to join him.
In the shower, he made her scrub his back, and wash him, and when she had finished, he left the shower, and got dressed.
When she came out of the bathroom, there was a lovely new dress on the bed, to replace the one so violently torn from her body the night before.
Serena writhed on her bed, and awoke with a start, sweat pouring from her body. She had come in her sleep! As she lay there, trembling, feeling the after-spasms of the orgasm, she had a sudden, surging, intense desire to meet Manuel again.
Dark, passionate, abusive Manuel. Anything would be better than her husband's indifference, his bland approach to sex.
Then she sat up. Maybe she could find an appropriate substitute for Manuel, right here in her own, dull, meticulously ordered house.
She smiled, and got up to take a shower. The late afternoon sun was streaming through the windows. Serena did not want to go down to the dining room.
She buzzed the intercom, and Martha answered.
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"Martha, 'do not set a place for me for dinner. I am not feeling well, and I think I shall rest in my room for the evening. Instruct my husband that I am not to be disturbed."
"Yes, Ma'am. Is there anything I can do for you? Some soup?"
"No, Martha, it's nothing serious. Just exhaustion. I want to sleep."
Serena didn't want to sleep. But she didn't want to eat either. Serena had decided to get back into shape. She knew she would need to be in shape for the gymnastics she intended to indulge in. She took a quick shower, and using the service staircase she slipped out into the quiet evening, and walked to the woods, to be by herself, away from the constraints of decorum.
She needed to think, not about who she was. She had been out of touch with herself for a long time, but she was assured of her self-possession, and eventually, as she worked at it, also of her physical assets.
What she needed to plot was, how to seduce Marie. And more importantly, how to seduce her husband-again.
As she walked easily through the woods, smelling the fresh earth under her feet, and sweet smell of flowers blooming, she smiled.
Yes, after nine years of marriage, it was time for a second honeymoon. She felt her pussy quiver again at the thought. She reached "a brook, which wound through a steep incline, down into a pool, where the family swam frequently during the summer months. It was still and limpid, as she reached it. She bent over it, looking into its mirrored surface. She patted her chin ruefully, noting the blurred outline.
Soon, she promised herself, soon....
CHAPTER THREE
Serena was having the shit pummeled out of her. She was lying in a private room, in the very exclusive health club to which she belonged, and which she had seldom visited, except for the swimming parties, and the cocktail parties which were sometimes held there.
Serena had been acting very strangely, according to her family, for the past two weeks. She had absented herself from dinner and breakfast. She had excused herself from most of the public affairs which she attended. She hadn't even been seen at any of the auctions, nor at the horse shows which were held every weekend.
She had pleaded exhaustion, and "a slight touch of anemia, according to Dr. Tate," the fashionable physician who attended all the women in the exclusive society in which Serena had traveled so uncomplainingly for so long.
Actually, she had visited Dr. Tate for a crash diet, which she got, and told him that she intended to stick with the diet, and therefore, was going to avoid all the haunts that might prove to be too much temptation too soon. Dr. Tate had readily agreed that a medical excuse would make it easier, and as he palpated, and examined the women who came to him, boredom breeding all sorts of superficial symptoms, and the women gossiped he gave ready credence to the story Serena had spread.
So, aside from some slight anxiety as to her state of health, Serena was readily forgiven for her withdrawal.
At home, at this hour, her family would be just stirring in their beds. It was six-thirty a.m., a sure time to make full use of the new-found freedom which Serena was relishing.
She loved the time alone, which she guarded jealously, to re-discover who she was, to peel off, layer by layer, the coating of social conformity which had distorted her personality behind a mask of social graces which Serena was beginning to realize were absurd.
Clowns aping other clowns, each one trying to out-do the other in social irrelevancies. There must be more to life, thought Serena, totally alone with her thoughts, in spite of the brutal beating her body was getting at the hands of the determined masseuse.
She was very happy to get away from her old friends. It was as if, in their presence, Serena ceased to be herself, and took all her cues from them.
Serena had become a kaleidescope of a dozen or more personalities, each one with some input into her basic emotional make-up, each one having something to say to establish her mind along certain lines.
And what about her? What about the Serena, who knew what a fact was, knew pretty well who people were, knew very well, who and what she was.
Submerged!
There's no arguing with taste, and right now, there was no arguing with Serena. That's why she determinedly got up early, to use the facilities of the health spa, without encountering any of the old biddies she was avoiding.
As she lay on the massage table, the Swedish masseuse doing an excellent, if brutal, job, Serena examined her conscience for the thousandth time. She doubted, as she had always doubted, her sexual inclinations. How could it be normal to want a man and a woman, too? And how come she enjoyed pain so much? She had always lived her own life, and done pretty much as she pleased, but sometimes, something whispered to her heart that maybe she went too far.
Brutal as this Valkyrie was, who was kneading her flesh as if it were so much insensitive dough, Serena was enjoying every minute of it. She especially liked it when the woman accidently pinched her in her squeezing and plumping of her rapidly dwindling flesh. She never cried out for fear the woman would ease up in her enthusiasm. Serena couldn't stand the idea of her stopping.
She closed her eyes, and left her torturing self-doubts alone for a moment, as she closed her eyes, and gave herself up to the growing pleasure the pain was creating.
The masseuse had reached her buttocks. Serena flinched a little, remembering some of the acts that had been committed on her behind. The whippings, the beatings, and the very faint scar that had been occasioned by a very hard bite, that left her bleeding. That incident had scared her away from some of her kinky pursuits for awhile. She figured she had gone too far.
It was the day before her wedding, which was the social event of the season. Serena had plotted and planned and schemed to capture James, and having got him, proceeded to get terribly restless. The day before her wedding, she had gone out into the city streets, and wandered. She didn't really care what she did.
James was having his bachelor party that evening, and she was feeling resentful. Why didn't women get bachelor parties, too? No, they only got silly things like showers, with lots of women squealing over lots of gifts that one really didn't need.
Serena had decided to absent herself from the state of propriety into which she had bound herself when she became engaged to James, and have a little fling of her own.
And she decided to go whole hog. No mincing little half-assed fling, but a raging brawl, was what she was after. Might as well have a really good memory to carry to her marriage bed.
Memories! It seemed as if that was all that was left of nine years of living with James. The children really didn't mean that much to her. She cared for them, but she hadn't wanted them as young as she had them.
But that was the way it was done, and James was as unimaginative in social spheres, as he was in bed. She was about to change all that. She was about to harness some of the energy and innovative wit that he used in his business, to her pleasure, and her needs.
Serena remembered, as she winced under the brutal fingers of the masseuse, that night to end all nights. Any porn on the market today, Bocaccio, Rabelais, paled in comparison. It was the highlight of her sexual career.
She had had her final fitting on her wedding gown that afternoon, and the seamstress was going to deliver it to her apartment by seven. Her maid of honor was staying overnight, in order to help her with her arrangements in the morning.
She had called Carol, and told her, quite frankly, that since James was out on the town, she was going to have a final fling herself, visit some old friends, and re-live some of the career she had given up. It was unthinkable, given James's position in society, that she would continue to be a chorus girl.
Carol understood, asked no questions, and reminded her that, although there was enough make-up to cover the ravages of her night on the town, that she had better be at the apartment by seven the next morning, since that was when all the bridesmaids-all fucking twelve of them!-were going to make their appearance, along with the hairdresser, the florist, and the photographer for the standard pre-wedding rituals.
Serena winced as she thought of the accumulated habitual garbage surrounding a legal license to fuck and make babies-like you couldn't do it otherwise (even though people always did).
She thanked Carol for understanding, and, hanging up the phone, started walking to the red light district of the town. If she could be called a demi-mondaine-a woman living between two worlds, and belonging to neither-she couldn't really claim any kind of familiarity with the lower orders of society.
And she decided to give it a lick and a promise. She wound up down around the docks, and walked into a bar on a corner of a dimly-lit street. She walked in because she liked the name, blaring at her in red neon, "Sucksie's Swinging Pub."
She wondered how they had got away with the name, and decided that the place was not only God-forsaken, but man-abandoned, as well. The long fingers of the law probably never snaked this far down, and probably nobody cared, except for an occasional clean-up campaign.
The place was noisy, smelly, and crowded.
"Hi!" husked a beer-drenched voice.
Serena backed away slightly, and looked up into the be-whiskered face of a monstrously tall, and wide dock worker. His arms were as big around as Serena's thighs, and then some, and every inch of his beefy body was muscle. He rippled, and exhibited a lithe grace when he moved, which surprised Serena, given his weight and girth.
"Hello," Serena husked back at him. He grabbed her roughly around her waist, his encircling arm moving downward, as his huge, beefy-hands groped. "You'll do," he said, grinning at her. "C'mon and have a drink with my friend."
Serena let him drag her bodily to the bar. "Give the lady what she wants," the man bellowed.
"Thank you," she said.
"Oh, don't worry, you'll pay for it-in the end," she heard a burly man roar. He was sitting at the end of the bar, in the general direction in which her assailant was leading her.
"Sam," the muscle-bound man howled to the burly man who had promised that she would ante-up for her drjnk, "This is ... I don't know your name. I guess I'll give you one for the night. This is ... ummm...."
"Pussy!" the other man laughed.
A slow, evil grin spread over the face of the muscle-bound man. "Yeah, that'll do." He turned to Serena. "Pussy, my name is...."
"Dork-man," Sam laughed.
Serena's pussy was twitching. This was really the lowest she had ever traveled, as crass and unfeeling and blatant as anything she could think of. It didn't occur to her, in her headlong pursuit of kinky sex that there could be anything dangerous in this encounter.
It never occurred to her that she could be hurt, or so brutalized that she wouldn't survive the episode.
Serena was a survivor, and she sailed into and out of situations that would have left other, milder-tempered women, emotionally, if not physically, scarred for life.
Serena ordered a bourbon on the rocks, and sipped it, listening to Sam and dork-man get bawdier and bawdier, until their raucous humor turned downright obscene, at which point the long-awaited invitation came.
"Wanna come with us and meet two snakes with one eye?" husked Sam, slurring his words.
"Sure...." purred Serena.
"Good! I knew you was what we was lookin' for. We kinda wanted to have a little party, see? A special party," said dork-man, his hands now frankly exploring every inch of her ass, his thick, meaty fingers running up and down her ass crack.
"I'm your woman," smirked Serena, thoroughly delighted with her adventure. The men paid up, and they left, Serena squashed between the two bruisers who were both staggering slightly. They wound their way through filthy, foul-smelling alleys, to a run-down boarding house. Sam let them in with a key, which he had trouble inserting in the keyhole.
"Hope ya don't have that kind of trouble with yer prick, sonny," slurred dork-man."
"Ahh, stick it up your bung-hole," snarled Sam, finally getting the rickety door unlocked. They staggered up three flights of stairs, smelling of urine and unwashed bodies, past several drunks, lying in varying degrees of inebriation in the hallways, to a door at the end of the hall on the third floor.
Sam opened it without applying a key to the lock. The room was the worst possible example of filth and degradation that Serena had ever seen. A shiver went up her spine, as she walked in and saw the littered floor, smelled the foul odor of unwashed body, saw the unmade, filthy sheets on the tousled bed.
Her breath was starting to come in short little spurts, little puffs of wind. Her breasts were jiggling, braless, under her thin cotton dress, with her excitement. The door wasn't even closed, before she felt the meaty hands of dork-man, kneading and pawing at her shaking breasts.
She felt her nipples pucker with excitement, and let out a little squeal, as dork-man pinched one of them-hard.
Then she felt his meaty hand on the collar of the dress, and felt it ripped from her body.
"Ohhh...." she whispered, never having felt quite so intensely so fast. She was shaking and her knees were threatening to give out from under her.
Her eyes wandered to Sam, who was removing his clothes. He pulled off his stained trousers, stiff with dirt, and watched his monstrous, thick ugly-looking cock pop up. He wasn't wearing any underwear. He stared at her, standing nude, and trembling in the middle of the room, and his big paw reached for his dork, and started pumping it.
"Wanna taste cock?" he husked.
"Yes," she said, going over to him and kneeling down in front of him, where he had sat on the edge of the bed. The smell was overpowering, and Serena, for all her twitching pussy, felt a retching sensation in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath, held it, and plunged down on the cock.
She felt her head imprisoned by the big, beefy hands of Sam, as he pressed her face, her lovely, clean face, into his foul-smelling unwashed groin. The hairs around his groin were matted with dirt.
And Serena exulted in the degradation.
Suddenly, she felt two hands on her hips.
"Hey," she heard dork-man growl, "git up on the bed, durn ya, and let me at her ass."
"Unnhhh!" grunted Sam, still holding Serena's head. He wiggled back on the bed, keeping Serena's head pinned to his hairy groin. Behind her, Serena felt dork-man's beefy hands pushing on her ass, forcing her over the side of the bed, as Sam pushed backwards, until Sam was lying full on the bed, Serena's face still buried in his groin, her ass stuck way up in the air.
She suddenly gasped, or tried to, and only succeeded in choking herself, as she felt dork-man's massive cock head placed at the entrance to her asshole.
Now, Serena was no ass-virgin, but still, a little lubrication and a little gentleness would have eased dork-man's passage. But dork-man had no such ideas.
He shoved.
Serena's scream was buried in Sam's cock, as dork-man plunged, half-burying his cock in her screaming, burning rectum.
Serena felt every bit of the humiliation of knowing that she was being treated as an object. A mere merkin to quell the riotous lusts of these two beasts.
And she had asked for it. She would have left gladly at this point, and yet, as she felt her pussy juices pouring out of her, she wondered if she really would have, given the opportunity arose.
She didn't think that Sam or dork-man would even think of it, as they continued to saw into the delicate membranes of her mouth and asshole as if she were no more than a thing of plastic-a doll to be mauled, and played with, and mutilated as they wished.
Thoroughly miserably and defeated in her illusions of grandeur by these two thugs, Serena surrendered to Sam's cock plowing her mouth and throat as it had never been plowed before, and dork-man's mindless sawing in and out of her shit chute.
Christ, she hurt! The tears trickled down her face. This was a new quirk in Serena. She never cried. She was a blatant Stoic, and figured that whatever happened, to date, in her kinky, and very independent life, was her own fault, and her own responsibility.
Serena didn't like it, and tried to relax, to give dork-man more access to her hot, aching asshole. Serena could feel the walls of her rectum being pushed as the man's cock plowed into her screaming nether channel. The agony was almost more than even Serena could enjoy.
In the meantime, Sam was yanking her hair, demanding that she suck him off. Serena obliged reluctantly. The pain in her ass was making her faint, and she was feeling nauseous. She wondered if she had done the right thing to take these men on.
Men? They were beasts of the worst possible sort. Dork-man was well-named. His cock was as thick, and muscle-bound, and beefy as he was, and having hit balls-deep into her rectum, he was now pulling out of her unlubricated asshole, dragging the membrane with him. Serena could almost feel her bowels being dragged out of her belly with the force of dork-man's monstrous cock.
The yanking on her hair was getting very insistent, so insistent that Serena was afraid the man would pull her hair out at the roots. She started pumping up and down on Sam's filthy cock, trying to time her pumping to match the humping of dork-man behind her.
She was moaning all over Sam's cock, the tears running down her cheeks. It was almost too sudden, and too obscene, too filthy, and yet here she was, at the nadir of her pursuits, in the worst possible position she could be in.
And her untended pussy seemed to be taking care of itself.
Serena licked the thick, throbbing shaft of Sam's tumescent tool, running her tongue up and down the under side of it, using her mouth as a vacuum, striving to drag out the spunk that must be churning now in his balls.
As she took care of Sam's cock, dork-man was taking care of his own, beating away at Serena's ass as if it were the scapegoat for all his ills. And Serena's pussy was purring! She reached down with her hand, knowing full well, that both of these men would take care of their own needs, and leave her high and dry.
And Serena did not intend to be left out!
"Fuck her dork-man, fuck her!" bellowed Sam, pressing his head back into the filthy mattress, as he felt his orgasm rising within him.
"Yeah, I'm going to fuck her shitless, ha! Ha! Ha!"
Dork-man's brutal laughter reverberated off the walls over which cockroaches crawled, and from which the plaster filtered in a fine white spray.
"Mmmmmm...." moaned Serena, and the scene was so wild, so degraded, so unbelievable to her, even given her penchant for the sordid stuff, that she didn't know if the moan vibrating against Sam's sticky, throbbing cock was for pain or pleasure.
But her pussy was telling the real story. She could feel her come dripping down her thighs as her first orgasmic spasms hit her suddenly, and fast. Even Serena, with all her experience had never come this fast. It scared her in a way, the whole thing was so perverted, and so unlike any image she had of herself.
In the fury of her confusion, and the growing fright she was experiencing, Serena applied herself with double effort to Sam's now dripping cock. She could feel the veins pulsing against the back of her mouth, as she vacuumed the come up out of his balls.
Sam came with a roar. He bucked his hips up into her face, smearing it with the come that was pouring out of her mouth as she strove to keep sucking. He fucked her mouth with a fury.
And dork-man was far from idle. Serena's ass felt like a furious fire, as dork-man's cock raged in and out of her rectum, abrading the tender walls, pummeling her bowels in a way that surpassed even her own perverted imagination.
Her orgasm mounted in pitch and frenzy, died away and built up again in a never-ending spiral that caused her to break out in a cold sweat.
"Yeaaaggghhh!" bellowed dork-man, grabbing Serena's soft white hips in a crushing grasp, as he started to come. He spewed his spunk deep, deep within Serena's bowels, until Serena couldn't tell if the spunk in her mouth was Sam's or dork-man's or a combination of both.
She screamed in a gargling, wretching noise against Sam's cock, as the fury of her orgasm mounted still higher, and she passed out.
She was unconscious while the two men finished spewing their spunk into her mouth and ass, and she didn't feel them collapsing, as their balls were relieved.
What brought her back to consciousness was a rough slap.
"Hey, bitch, don't pass out on our party, yet. We ain't finished." It was dork-man. Sam's cock had fallen out of her mouth, and Serena's head had just plunked on Sam's stinking groin, when she passed out.
Dork-man was straddled over her crumpled form, a hank of her hair in one hand, and he was slapping her violently, back and forth across both her cheeks with the other.
"Huh, whaaa...." Serena gasped, tasting blood from a cut lip. She licked her lips, and struggled to a sitting position, her body shivering with fear, anticipation of the degradation still to come, and her ass aching fiercely. The back of her throat hurt, too, and she suddenly realized how big Sam's cock had been.
Her mouth tasted foul.
She screamed, as dork-man's thumb and forefinger pinched one of her nipples. It wasn't a tweak, he was grinding his rough, calloused fingers heavily into the tender skin.
And again, she felt her perverse pleasure rise. Her pussy was still twitching heavily, and the speed and intensity of the twitching was turning into another nightmarish orgasm. She had never passed out before when she climaxed. She really didn't expect to again, either!
Her face was twisted into a mask of pain, as dork-man, smiling evilly, kept twisting her nipple, as if he wanted to twist it off.
"Hey ... Sam ... you take her back this time, and I'll fuck her filthy cunt, O.K.?"
Sam's face twisted into a leer, and Serena watched, hypnotized, as Sam's beefy fist started beating his meat again. "Frig yourself, lady," Sam commanded. "I want you ready when I get to yer."
Serena reached down slowly with one hand, and her inquiring fingertip found her clitoris. She jumped as her fingertip stimulated the over-sensitized love bud.
It was sheer pain, and sheer pleasure, of a piercing, demanding, violent kind that Serena didn't even know existed. And the tears welled in her eyes as her passion mounted again, as she wallowed in the crassness, the filth, the humiliation of being so brutally mauled by two beasts. She closed her eyes to the painful sensations and felt herself, somehow, in some weird way, exalted.
Who could say they had experienced anything like this, either pleasure or pain, with this kind of intensity? No one that she knew of!
And who would be so daring, Serena the bold, the wild one, the hellion! While she was carried away with her ecstasy, dork-man gave off man-handling her nipple. It was red and bleeding where the skin had worn away from the force of the squeezing.
She moaned, as she felt him roughly throw her on her side. Her eyes closed, she felt rough hands pulling her legs apart, felt the hairy legs of Sam push between her white, tender ones, felt his rough cock roughly pushing at the head of her creaming pussy.
"Hey, she's wet," husked Sam. He pushed hard, and embedded his thick, filthy cock into her pussy. Then she felt dork-man pushing against her rectal muscles.
They gave with a relative degree of ease, having been terrifically stretched by dork-man's plowing prick. She squealed as she felt the weird sensation of two cocks, rubbing each other against the thin membrane that separated her pussy from her asshole.
The rest of the night passed in a delirium of pain, beating, and fucking. She serviced both men like a sow gone wild with lust, grunting slavishly to the tune of her own passion, and reveling in every degradation that the two men chose to visit on her.
As dawn was coming up, the three of them lay in the bed, the room heavy with the smell of sex and dirty bodies, exhausted. Serena tried to think. There was some reason why she should leave.
With a tremendous start, she reared up to a sitting position, letting out a cry of pain, as the pressure against her asshole shot the pain and the fire from a night of abuse, higher into her head.
Sam and dork-man were out cold. She disentangled herself from their prone bodies, and looked for her dress. There was no way she could ever wear it again. How was she going to get home?
She had a moment of panic before she discovered in the closet, hidden away in a cockroach-infested cardboard carton, and old housecoat. She put it on, and then stole a musty old trench coat to put over that.
Finding her purse, she slowly crept out of the room, and into the littered, abandoned, early morning streets.
It took her half an hour to find a cab, but she got home by six. Carol was appalled at her appearance. Serena was grinning from ear to ear, until a hot shower sobered her up enough to contemplate the night's excesses. Her heart shot into her mouth.
What kind of beast was she? She covered her face with her hands, shaking under the warm shower, and thought of calling James and canceling out.
The pain in her ass was unbearable, and it called her back from her stricken conscience. It seemed to be spreading. As she looked down in the white tub, she noticed rivulets of pink. Shocked, she turned around, and discovered the circular marks of someone's teeth. Somewhere in that night of madness, someone had bitten her ass so hard that the skin was broken.
There would be a scar. Serena almost went crazy when she saw the mark. She wanted to run somewhere and hide. She was appalled at the depths of her depravity, a thick, turgid stream that moved sluggishly in her belly.
She was afraid that she was going mad. Afraid of another outburst like that. That would cure her, she thought, gingerly tending to the wound. And to think she had not felt it, or noticed it until she got home, so swamped was she in the miasma of perverse pleasure she had indulged in.
Never again, she thought, weeping. There was an impatient knock on the bathroom door, as Carol summoned her to her nuptial festivities.
She was extremely silent on the way to the church. Carol understood it to be exhaustion, and the other bridesmaids assumed it was sheer pre-marriage nervousness.
But Serena was desperately searching her mind for a way to avoid the wedding night, and the discovery of the marks of her iniquity. As she got out of the limousine, she glanced back briefly, just to make sure that the wound on her buttocks had not stained through to the white gown.
Blood! That was the answer. Serena spent her wedding night alone.
And she had what was probably the longest period in the history of menstruation.
CHAPTER FOUR
Four pairs of eyes widened, as Serena came into the dining room at eight o'clock that morning. She had been pummeled, pampered, excercised, and then relaxed in a sauna, a routine which she had adhered to religiously for two weeks, and her devotion to the cause of resurrecting her old self was obvious.
Because she was avoiding the old crowd, she had not been to the hairdressers, and her lovely, thick red hair hung simply to her shoulder blades, radiant with the daily washings and brushings she was giving it. Her body was acquiring its old, long, dancer's shape. Her breasts were firmed up, and standing proudly in feminine glory on her chest.
The very intensity of her pursuit had washed away the old blase look, and replaced it with a warm glow which suffused her peaches and cream complexion and gave a glow to her warm dark eyes that was entrancing.
Serena was once again the traffic-stopper she used to be. She noted with interest the way Marie's left eyebrow tilted upward in a Gallic gesture of subtle interest. Now, perhaps?
Serena caught her breath, and bit her lower lip. Even The Wall Street Journal slammed to the table.
"Serena?" Her husband turned around. "Good morning, dar-...." James rose with a cat-like grace from the table, and came toward her.
"Good morning, Serena," he husked, taking both her hands in his, and fondling them the way he used to when they were courting.
"You look pretty this morning, Mommy," lisped Leticia, who was crumbling bread subtly on her lap, and feeding it to the cat who had sneaked from the kitchen, and was now under the table, lapping up the buttery gifts being showered on it.
Serena looked around her. This was her family, and she suddenly swelled with pride. She was mistress of herself, finally, and therefore, mistress of this family.
How she had ever allowed herself to be browbeaten into believing that the Serena she knew herself to be wasn't acceptable, was beyond her. Her shoulders automatically went back a little, and her head was raised slightly higher, her stubborn chin showing at a superb angle.
She really did have a lovely, cameo profile, which the years and the boredom had blurred into hiding.
She had class, she thought, as she smiled, while the compliments, and the stir occasioned by her presence in the dining room continued.
Well, she thought, if I can conquer these good, loving, accepting, if dull, people, I can conquer the world. I can have my cake and eat it, too.
She was gazing intensely at Marie, whose gaze had not left her figure. Marie was raking her with her eyes, and Serena could feel her pussy gush a mass of cream.
She walked, fully in command, over to where her daughter sat. Smiling, she reached under the table and picked up the cat.
Then she sat down and acknowledged her admirers.
"Thank you, dear," said Serena, kissing James Sr., James Jr., and Leticia. She paused, wanting for all the world to kiss Marie. "I feel much better this morning," she said, sitting in her accustomed place, and ringing the crystal bell.
It was time now to try out her new-won self-respect and self-control on normal situations, like eating with everyone else. Marvin came into the room. His eyebrows also danced on his brows, as he looked with interest and obvious admiration, at the radiant Mrs. Caruthers, who was sitting so erect and energetic looking at the table.
"Breakfast, Madame?"
"Yes, Marvin. Coffee, a boiled egg, and a piece of whole wheat toast, thank you."
Marvin danced out of the room. The Wall Street Journal still lay supine on top of the breakfast plate in front of Mr. Caruthers. He was staring at his wife, probably seeing her for the first time in several years. And what he saw was interesting him enormously.
"You look lovely this morning, Serena," James husked, his eyes caressing the dancing red lights in his wife's long hair, the glow in her cheek, the sparkle in her eyes. Their eyes met, and Serena's chin dimpled in a subtle smile.
Well, she thought, after all these years of stifling yawns. It was amazing to her what a good state of health did to the temperament. After years of putting up with her husband's indifference, all the other women, who hung like ghosts around them when they were in bed together, or dining together, saying little or nothing to each other, Serena suddenly found herself all out of patience.
She was surprised at the quick rise of anger, that further flushed her cheeks. Marvin was at her side, his movements a mere whisper.
He smiled at her as he poured her coffee, and backed away, when she waved off his attempt to pour cream into her cup. As Serena looked at Marvin, she realized that this man had been a trusted member of this family for ten years, and she had never realized how attractive he was. She smiled at him.
"Thank you, Marvin," she said, patting his arm, lightly. Marvin beamed at her, his eyes twinkling.
Serena turned her attention to Marie, who was sipping her coffee, and gazing over the rim of the cup at her. Serena caught her look, and held it brazenly. No more doubts about what she wanted! Serena was going to have Marie. And it was going to be soon.
Her husband should be going on one of his
"business trips," soon, and Serena knew what that meant. It could be a for-real thing or a faked escape to shack up with someone else. Serena smiled. She knew she was going to be one-up on him now.
And Marvin ... that was a whole new dimension.
Another month passed. James Caruthers did not go on a business trip.. With the sole exception of Serena's successfully completed effort to attain her old figure, to explore the meaning of her old world, and her sexual escapades, which still distressed her, life seemed to go on around her as usual.
Even Marie, the French governess, who was managing the children beautifully, seemed to fall in with the dull, plodding rhythm of the life they led. Whereas the children before Marie, had been a constant source of irritation, frustration, and, yes, Serena had to admit it, excitement, they were now incredibly quiet.
Her husband did not read The Wall Street Journal with the same single-minded devotion that he once had. Some of that intensity had been transferred to his wife, who had once again gone back into society, and become the belle of the ball. Her natural good looks had been enhanced by the healthful regime she had followed, and by a sudden aversion to the overdone hairdos and over-painted nails, and overdressed styles, which she had acquired.
She was the center of attention when she entered a room, and every eye followed her as she moved with her old lithe grace among her friends and acquaintances, and no eye moved with more unswerving attention than her own husband's.
Serena basked in glory. Where once she had pursued her husband with a fury that would have frightened anyone, now her husband pursued her, courted her, paid small and large attentions to her, and gave her small-and large-gifts.
Frequently, at night, he knocked on the door that joined their rooms. Serena was inevitably "asleep," and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. It had never occurred to her that the tables would be reversed. It had never occurred to her, as she spent her evenings, like a cat, patiently waiting, and ridding herself of excess energy by masturbating, that she would wind up with the full deck, the winning hand.
She remembered the first morning Marie had come into the dining room, her charisma overflowing and startling all the members of the family. Now, Marie seemed to be a quiet, efficient, and retiring woman. Serena wondered at the change, until she remembered the look the Frenchwoman had given her when she emerged from her two weeks of solitary confinement. So, Marie wanted her, too.
Where initially she had been afraid of the possible coupling between Marie and James, now she was assured that they would both toe the mark, waiting for her smallest wishes to be voiced.
Serena stretched and remembered. The memories were good. If they still startled her, and they did, if they pricked her none-too-easy conscience, bringing them to light certainly gave her a picture that was slowly, but surely making sense. For many years she had repressed those memories, denying that she was ever a part of that perverse reality, striving to shape herself to the mold desired of her by her new-found family. And therein had lain her defeat.
Serena had startled her friends and her family this past week, by joining a volunteer force which went three times a week to the local women's prison. She was tired of quarreling over which painting should be bought for what public institution.
Besides the memories of her own rough early life, there was also the solitary hours to think, to try to place her life in some kind of context. And Serena had felt a need to be useful. She was tired of being an ornament, a frill in a frivolous society. Serena had a lot of guts. If the soft living had turned those guts somewhat mushy, the new regime, which Serena had vowed she would follow faithfully for the rest of her life, had built up in her a sense of worth that spilled over in a need to help someone else, to bring some worth into the lives of those deprived of meaning, by circumstances beyond their control.
As Serena heard the soft knocking of her husband at their door-the two rooms had been a convention from the first in their marriage, a convention which Serena had hated, but which she had never spoken against, since it was "what was done," among their married peers-she firmed up her resolve to "be asleep."
She was angry. She was angry at the timid and mild advances made by her husband. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate his gentleness, his suave and sophisticated manners. But she did like to be swept off her feet, and he wasn't doing it! She was going to get even with him for the two bedrooms, and the long, solitary nights she had spent in her own room, wanting him, and waiting for him.
She heard a door slam on the upper floor, where the help slept. And her smile deepened. It would be Marie. She heard Marie's footsteps walk quietly down the stairs, and then around the balustrade, down to the kitchen. Serena was suddenly the center of everyone's attentions, and she loved it!
Serena stretched on her bed, and closed her eyes. The scene that came unbidden to her mind, as she let herself float off to sleep, was a disturbing one, one she had witnessed that afternoon at the prison. Several of the girls in the juvenile wing of the prison had rebelled against the bad food. They had stood up in a screaming mass, and flung their plates against the walls of the dining hall, and splattered the matrons guarding them.
Of course the demonstration was quelled quickly and violently, the young instigators of the plot being singled out for a quick lesson in the wisdom of abiding by the law, in or out of prison.
Three of them, all under fifteen, were lined up against the wall of the assembly hall, and bent, bare-assed, over three stools. One of the matrons stood up in front of the silent, sullen assembled audience, surrounded by armed guards, and gave them all a lecture on obedience, and living with the established order of things.
Serena, who had been up in the hospital ward, talking to two piteous young adolescents, one with pneumonia and the other with a severe case of anemia, had heard, but not seen the insurrection. She did hear the lecture, which incensed her. What followed was not designed to calm her down, or quell her growing indignation at the conditions under which these poor girls, and young women, lived.
Two other matrons came up to the front of the assembly hall. One of them handed a black belt to the matron who had given the lecture. Serena noticed that both the other matrons had black belts in their hands, thick, and ugly-looking. They swung the belts with a practiced ease that made Serena's heart sink.
She caught her breath and held it as the belts came down on the soft white bare asses of the pre-adolescent girls bent over the stools. There were cries and growls in the audience that were soon hushed by the guards.
Serena was shaking from head to foot. At first, she knew it was anger, and compassion for these poor children, so brutalized. She had a vague thought which later became a determination, that she was going to bring her own two children up here, just to show them how easy life was for them.
The belts landed hard and unsparingly on the soft white quivering flesh of the three girls. Every now and then one of the belts would cut with particular violence, and a cry would be wrenched from a stoical ringleader's unwilling throat. And Serena cried with them.
She was also creaming in her pants, and mortified that she could witness this scene of degradation and be so aroused. What was wrong with her anyway? What defect in nature had made her this way. She knew that there were other women who pursued similar pleasures, but she had never met them, and therefore could never voice her doubts or share her experiences.
She had no touchstone against which to measure her own impulses. She just watched, her anger growing, as the matrons beat the bare bottoms of the three children. Their soft white asses were becoming red, and welts rose, which were visible where Serena stood, several feet away.
She noted that the assembly hall was now almost silent, except for the heavy sonorous sound of breathing which was quicker, and louder than normal breathing should be.
She looked around, feeling the panic of her errant heart growing in her. Could it be that even so-called normal people were aroused by whippings. Serena had had some of her best orgasms after having her bottom whipped. She felt her ass muscles contract, with the remembered pleasure of a tingling bottom, as some man's cock plowed into her, or some woman's tongue reamed her out.
And then, the memory of her own perverse pursuits overcame her, and she could feel her knees trembling. She knew she was going to come, right there in the assembly hall, right in front of all these people, without even putting a hand to herself.
She could feel her clitoris trembling in that wild, stinging way that drove her over the top of her climax. She could feel her whole body grow taut as it braced against the onslaught of pleasure that was filling her to the brim.
She watched the beaten asses of the children, and her own ass tingled in sympathetic response. She wished she were in their position now. And she cringed as she abandoned herself to her lustful impulses, and let the pussy cream drip down her legs, as her pussy muscles contracted and relaxed, contracted and relaxed.
Serena had broken out into a sweat, and her face was flushed. Her eyes were gleaming. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, and gritted her teeth against the spasms that were coursing through her.
Finally, the ecstatic spasms eased off, leaving Serena feeling drained. She felt as if she were a rag doll someone had taken all the stuffing out of.
The fear that she had become a slave to her lusts became too much for her.
"Stop!" she cried, "stop! This is obscene!"
There was a loud murmer running through the hall, as Serena went up to where the matrons were standing, frozen in mid-stroke. The three little girls, their heads hanging over the stools, turned to look at her over their shoulders, which were quivering pathetically.
"How dare you brutalize children this way?" she screamed, feeling her indignation rising, and giving full vent to it, as a channel for her pent-up sexual energies, which had achieved a dangerously high pitch.
She didn't hear the response of the head matron. Her eyes became riveted on the young, almost hairless pubes of the three young girls. All three of them were creaming. Their moist little labia were swollen and gleaming with their sticky young pussy juices.
The sight did little to diminish Serena's own rampant eroticism. So! They were enjoying it. And the heavy breathing in the hall. Serena was slightly calmed by the knowledge that far from being alone, she was among women who were intimate with the slightly perverse facets of sex. And of course, they would have to be. Where else did they get their relief from? There certainly weren't any men, all the male guards being assigned to the public rooms, and the outside of the prison.
She was ushered into a room, with one of the matrons, while the head matron ordered the girls released from their punishment, and placed in solitary for a week. The rest of the inmates were ushered back to their regular places of work or study.
The matron was a big, burly woman with a slight mustache on her upper Up. Serena found her very attractive. Apparently, the matron reciprocated the feeling. They had a long, long talk together.
The upshot of the conversation was that Serena was willing to proffer the services of her cook to teach the cooks in the institution how to make the food a little more palatable, granted of course, that Marvin and Martha were willing. She would ask, and return the next day with an answer.
Serena, who had her in-laws to dinner that evening for the first time in several montns, was extremely restless, and her restlessness spilled over into a scintillating wit. Serena spoke more and appeared to be more interested in her in-laws than she had ever been.
As her mother-in-law was leaving, she reached over and pecked her son on the cheek, whispering in his ear, "I've never known her so enchanting and so lovely. You are a lucky boy, indeed."
James grinned wryly. When he had come home with the announcement that he was marrying the chorus girl, the shoe had been on the other foot, and Serena had been fed to satiation with the story of how lucky she was!
Of course, Serena was restless because of her aroused state, which became aggravated during the course of the evening, by the surreptitious looks flicked at her by Marie, and her husband's mooning gaze, as well as the obvious lump in his crotch.
Even her nightly masturbating did not relieve the tension that was building to a dangerous peak. She would have to do something about it and quickly. It was one thing to wreak vengeance by keeping her husband and Marie waiting. But she was keeping herself from her own pleasure, and she had decided that pleasure was one thing she would no longer deny herself.
At seven-thirty the next morning, after her daily work-out at the health club, she stepped briskly into the kitchen. Marvin was preparing a sauce for the eggs benedict which was the morning menu. Martha was preparing the rest of the food, and fussing over the luncheon menu. It was a hot morning, and Marvin had not yet put on his shirt and suit coat.
Serena gasped. She had never realized the man was so well-built. His bulging muscles rippled through the immaculate white T-shirt which he was wearing. He was sweating, and the cotton material clung to his muscular, hairy frame. His belly was washboard-flat, and corded. Serena wondered quizzically to herself where he did his work-outs, and when, given the myriad of duties he performed for the family, he found the time.
It seemed that one only had to think without voicing the wish, and Marvin was there, on his feather light, discreet feet, holding out to you exactly what you wanted.
He started when he saw Serena come into the kitchen. "Oh, Madame, please forgive my attire...." he said, seemingly flustered.
"Nonsense," said Serena, who had discarded some of the flighty mannerisms that she thought were high-style, reverting back to her gutsy directness, "I wouldn't expect you to dress any other way. This kitchen is hot. I should have come out here before to see the conditions you were working in."
She smiled sweetly at Martha, sweating over a shopping list.
"I shall see to it that an air conditioner is installed in here this week. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Oh, Ma'am, it isn't always this bad. It's just an exceptionally hot day, is all," husked Martha, beaming at her fondly.
Serena came in and sat down. She was tempted to cut a piece of the caramel cake sitting on the table, but she resolutely pulled her eyes away. No more self-indulgence for Serena!
"I wanted to talk to you two." Marvin removed the double-boiler with the white sauce, and came over, sitting down at the table. Serena had to place her hands, folded in her-lap, so strong was the desire to caress his powerful forearms, which lay so gently on the table. How could a man that powerfully built be so soft and exhibit such finesse in all his movements?
Again, Serena's pussy creamed, as the picture of her, fainting with desire in Marvin's passionate arms, flitted through her sex-charged imagination.
Gazing out the window, to avoid the temptation at hand, Serena described to the couple the scene she had witnessed the day before, and her suggestion to the head matron.
"Of course, I shall see to it that you are paid for the extra work, if you decide you want to do it. The circumstances are not the best in the world, and I want you to feel free to refuse the suggestion. It is only a suggestion!"
Martha and Marvin looked at each other, and Martha put out her work-worn hand, caressing Serena's white hands, still folded in her lap.
"My dear," Martha's voice caressed her ears. "Of course we'd love to do it. We think it's such worthy work you're doing up there, and if we can help those poor women in any way, we'd consider it a privilege."
"And you can forget the remuneration, Madame. We are not interested in the money. Just happy that we can be of service," said Marvin, also beaming at her.
Serena's eyes filled with happy tears, as she looked at this devoted couple who had served her and her family so well for so many years. She would speak to James this morning about giving them a raise, and about raising the amount of money to be left in the will.
"Thank you," she said, simply. "I'll get back to you with definite plans when I speak to the matron."
Marie had the morning off, and Serena took charge of the children. She had an air of authority now, and they didn't flabbergast her, as they once did with their high-jinks. Marie was due back at one o'clock, and at twelve-thirty promptly, their luncheon was served.
Serena sat at the table, going over their French lessons with them, eating an apple, while the children dabbled in their food. Serena had the first real conversation she had ever had with her children.
"Leticia, have you ever thought of just eating food, and leaving the playing to your toys?"
"Huh?" said Leticia, looking up at her lovely mother, her little-girl eyes straying to her gorgeous breasts.
"Come now, Leticia, you can think of a better response than that."
"I suppose so, Mommy. But I don't know what you mean."
"I mean," said Serena, taking a deep breath, as she took the bull by the horns, "that you eat like a truck driver. Your manners are awful."
"Oh," said Leticia, thunderstruck at the honest response. She put down the peas she was cradling in the palm of her hand, aiming to start a soft war with her brother, and placed her hands in her lap. Her mother reached over, and covered Leticia's little hands with her own. Then she smiled at her daughter, softening the blow a bit.
James Jr. who could have been a clone, he was so like his father, was amused at Leticia's embarrassment. He took a pea from his plate, and flicked it. It landed square on Leticia's forehead. Leticia who was beginning to adore this gorgeous creature her mother had become, twisted her mouth into a look of rage, but kept her hands folded in her lap, loving the warmth emanating from her mother's warm palm.
"James, you may leave the table and go to your room. You will sit there alone, thinking about what you have done. And you may come down to dinner if you have with you a composition of no less than one hundred words, stating why you did what you did, and whether or not you thought it was worthwhile."
James Jr.'s eyes popped in his head. His mother wouldn't dare take that tone of voice with him. Marie was bad enough, but his mother! Never! He set his chin in defiance, exactly as Serena had seen her husband do it time and time again.
"No, I won't."
"Then, you will not come down to dinner unless you can present me with a composition of no less than two hundred words on why you should defy your mother in so ungentlemanly a manner."
"No, I won't!"
"The composition is now three hundred words, and if you keep defying me, you may not get breakfast, either," Serena said, firmly.
James Jr. was at a loss. No matter how he played this game, he was going to lose it. He was glad it was his mother, and not Marie.
That is, he was glad it was his mother and not Marie until he flicked another pea, which landed with deadly accuracy, right in the cleft between his mother's succulent globes, which James Jr. had had an irresistible urge to grab since his mother did, whatever it was she did to get the way she was.
He noted with a rising fear the look his mother cast him, as she removed her hand from her daughter's hands, and rose from the table, approaching him.
Leticia had acquired a rather smug expression on her face. She was about to be revenged without having to raise a hand. Very quietly, and very firmly, Serena approached her son, watching his eyes widen with shock, and bewilderment, as she reached over, picked him up firmly, and then sat down in his seat. Very quickly, she pulled down his summer shorts, exposing his bare bottom.
Then she folded him neatly over her knee, and spanked him, very firmly, and hard enough to sting her own palm. As her hand paddled her son's bottom, her own ass began to twitch. What she wouldn't give to have someone doing this to her! She paddled hard, deaf to her son's pleading, and his kicking and squirming.
"Oh, Madame," she heard Marie husk behind her.
Serena did not pause in her slapping, feeling her son's soft, white little-boy flesh against her stinging palm. His ass cheeks were getting very red. She turned to Marie and said, "Good afternoon, Marie. Please sit down. Lunch is ready. I'll be with you in a moment."
She then continued to spank her son to her own satisfaction, and much to the dismay of James Jr.
She finally let him up, and pulled his trousers up over his exposed baby genitals, and red little ass. She had a wild urge to caress his ass, to put her mouth over his little prick, which bobbed there, so adorable, so soft, and so small. She carefully tucked his little shirt in, and then led him to the door of the dining room.
"Remember, three hundred words. One, why you threw the pea at Leticia; two, why you disobeyed your mother; and three, why you were so disrespectful to your mother by throwing a pea at her. If you don't have the composition ready by dinner, then you better have it by breakfast. That is, if you expect to eat. Now, go to your room."
James left, rubbing his sore behind. Serena stood in the doorway, watching him, and having a wild urge to laugh. He looked so crestfallen, and she suddenly loved him, and Leticia so much. James got halfway up the spiral staircase, and turned, stamping his little foot. "I'm going to tell Daddy on you!" he bellowed, and then ran helter-skelter to the top of the stairs, down the long corridor to his room. She heard the door to his room slamming and she came back into the dining room.
Marie was smiling at her. "I think that was rather well done, Madame," she said, as Marvin poured her coffee.
Serena blushed with pleasure, and sat down. Marvin poured her more coffee. Serena smiled up at him, aware of her growing attraction, and wondering how much dispassion there was in his solicitous care of her every wish and comfort. There was a bond between them now, their mutual work to alleviate some of the misery of the women's prison.
Marvin's hand brushed against Serena's arm, as he took away her dish. He was not maladroit, and had never done that before. It startled Serena, made her wonder. She took a deep breath. She was in command of her household now, finally, and she could control her own destiny, and therefore her sexual involvements. She was not mad, nor out of control. She just liked her sex kinky. And lately she was becoming very aware that many of the people around her liked their sex kinky, too.
She smiled and looked at Marie. Marie smiled back.
Serena was positively twitching in her seat, and Marie, at the moment didn't appear to be the epitome of composure herself. The hand in which she was holding the coffee cup was shaking slightly.
Marvin came to the door of the dining room. "Leticia, it's time to go to your horseback riding lesson."
Leticia rose from the table and bounded to the door. Serena clapped her hands.
"Leticia!"
Leticia spun on a dime, and stared at her mother. "Come say goodbye to your mother and Marie."
"Oh, I forgot!" And Leticia came back, and kissed her mother goodbye, and formally shook hands with Marie, who was grinning at her.
Both women laughed, as Leticia danced out of the room.
"You know, Madame, it is so much better, when the mother helps. I know most women merely drop their children into the custody of French governesses and nurses, to be free of the responsibility for caring for them. But it is so good to see you take an interest."
Serena looked intensely at Marie. She was hearing the words, but she sensed that there was a message hidden between the lines. She used to be good at reading body language, before she isolated herself in this silk cocoon. The work at the prison was helping to remove the blinders, and her own demand to spend some time alone with her own thoughts, was another aid.
"You know, Marie, I like you. I can't tell you how intimidated I was-we all were!-the first morning you came here. Now, I just couldn't do without you."
Marie smiled, and reached over and touched Serena's hand, a bold move, but Serena sensed, a calculated one. "I feel the same about you, Madame. My first impression of you was ... well ... erroneous. I thought you were passive and indifferent."
Marie shifted in her seat, and removed her hand from Serena's. "Also ... and this is a little difficult to say, but ... well, you don't know how, err, stimulating it was to see you spanking your little boy."
Serena laughed, long, and loud, the laughter ringing in musical peals from her belly. "Marie, the laugh is on me," she sputtered. "You turned me on when you spanked Leticia. Let's face it, a little spanking never hurt anyone, and it certainly is pleasurable at times. I got turned on spanking little James, myself!"
The tension in the air lifted suddenly, and Serena decided to make her own move. "Marie, we hardly know each other, and yet you are an indispensable member of this family. I have to make a phone call, and then I have the whole afternoon to myself. James is to remain in solitary confinement until dinner. Why don't I set Marvin to watch James, and you and I can go swimming. There's a lovely pool in the woods behind the house."
"Why, Madame, I would love to."
"Call me Serena," she said, rising from the table gaily, tossing her sparkling red hair, and going up to her room. In her room, excited, and feeling younger, happier than she had in years, Serena called the prison. A conference was set up for the next morning, among the cooks, Marvin and Martha, Serena, and the head matron.
Then Serena divested herself of her clothes, looking happily at the lithe, gorgeous, velvety body that met her gaze in the mirror. She put on one of her old bikinis-one she had kept for old times' sake, but had not been able to fit into since the birth of her first child. The black bikini set off her white skin to perfection. She twirled happily in the mirror, loving the look of herself, her proud full breasts spilling over the brief top, and the tip of her now-firm ass crack peeking out of the top of the satin bikini bottom.
Then she threw on a beach coat over the bikini, donned sandals, and headed downstairs, to wait for Marie.
They were both chattering gaily as they headed for the cool green woods, and the limpid pool, where they planned to spend the afternoon. Both of them knew that there was more to look forward to than just swimming and sunning on the cool green banks of the-pond.
They divested themselves of their beach coats, and both women took long, admiring gazes at each other's body. They were truly a luscious pair, long-limbed, full breasted and full-hipped. Contrasting with their full feminine hips and breasts were their long, slender waists.
They dived into the cold spring water, titillated by the cold bite of the water on then-warm flesh. Together, they swam out to the center of the pool, and then started back. Serena was alive to the day, and her own self-love, which flowed out into a love for everything, including this lovely woman, who had enhanced her household, and who she was sure was going to enhance her sex life, very soon, this afternoon.
Serena turned, treading water, and splashed Marie, who returned the favor. Soon, the two women were wrestling with each other, squealing and giggling in the cool green lagoon. Marie reached over to the heaving breasts of a giggling bright-eyed Serena, who was trying to push Marie under water, and ripped off her bikini top.
Serena gasped with the sense of freedom, as her gorgeous melons floated free in the water. Marie threw the top onto the green bank, and gasped, as Serena reached over and pulled off Marie's top. Marie's breasts were slightly smaller than Serena's, and they perched proudly, like large grapefruits on her chest.
"You have such lovely breasts, Serena," husked Marie, reaching over tentatively, and caressing one of Serena's lovely melons. Serena reached over, an imp having apparently taken possession of her, and pinched Marie's nipple.
"Ouch!" squealed Marie, and the wrestling match was on again. It wasn't long before the two lovely women were completely nude, snatching and grabbing at each other's pussy hairs, twats, and breasts. It almost looked for a minute, as if Serena were winning the wrestling match, and then Marie would pull a dirty trick, such as pinching Serena's nipple, or pulling at her pussy hairs.
They were hurting each other slightly, but not enough to bruise or do damage, and only two women would know how to please in the art of hurting. Finally, Serena could stand it no longer.
Her pussy was creaming and throbbing in the cold water. Marie was giggling and trying to push Serena under the water. She had Serena by a thick hank of her lovely long red hair. Serena reached over, and took Marie's head in her two hands, and planted a long, passionate kiss on her mouth.
Marie stopped wrestling. She stopped breathing for a minute, as her passion built up in her belly, constricting her throat for awhile. She felt Serena's lovely, long tongue snake into her mouth, and Marie opened her mouth wide, accepting the tongue, and caressing it with the tip of her tongue.
Soon, the two women were moaning against each other's mouth, as the passion of the kiss increased, and their bellies pressed into each other. Serena was treading water in the direction of the shore. She wanted Marie so much that her belly ached with her desire. They were alone, with the cool green, sensuous woods, their skins cooled by the water, and their bellies boiling with passion.
And they both sensed each other's desire, as sensitive women will.
Serena reached the shore, still kissing and embracing Marie, who was returning the kiss passionately. She interrupted the kiss, long enough to climb up onto the grassy banks, and she let out a squeal, as she felt Marie's hand land a smart smack on her behind.
"That's dirty," teased Marie, slapping her again, before Serena could get out of the way, "seducing me like that, to lose the wrestling match."
Serena looked at Marie, clambering out of the water, gleaming streams of moisture trickling down her soft, white skin.
"I want you. And I will do anything to get what I want."
A wicked gleam appeared in Marie's eyes. Serena caught it and understood. Before Marie's hand finished curving the arc that swung against Serena's haunches, Serena had landed a good blow on Marie's bare, wet arm. It stung, and Marie let out an emphatic "Ouch! Dieu!"
And the two women again wrestled, this time with their own pleasure, as they landed slaps and blows on their bare, wet skin. The woods resounded sensually with the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Their white skins were marked with red marks, where open palms had landed effectively on bare skin.
Serena, in a passionate moment of adoration for the gutsy, kinky Marie, landed one squarely on Marie's cheek. Marie was staggered by the blow, and landed on her round ass cheeks, with a little grunt.
She looked up at Serena, nursing the stinging red mark that had appeared on her cheek. "Ohhhh!" she gasped, "that was marvelous!"
Serena wanted to be dominatrix, and she fell on Marie, pushing her soft, yielding body back into the grass. She watched Marie wince as the prickly grass tickled and scratched her skin. And Serena wanted to hurt her, just a little. She pressed her gorgeous body into the body of Marie, and felt Marie writhing against her. They were stuck sensually together, breast to breast, belly to belly, their pubic fur grinding together, pressing apart their already swollen pussies.
It was as if they couldn't get enough of each other, as Serena bit Marie's neck hard, hearing her squeal, as Serena left a small hickey on the lovely, swan-like neck.
Their hands roamed all over their soft bodies, as their pussies ground into each other. The wet lips of their pussies kissed each other, making wet smacking sounds as the rhythm of their humping increased, and their passion rose to wild heights.
They were entwined around each other, and looked like two snakes copulating in the grass, their long limbs snaked around each other, arms curling over necks, legs entwining with legs, as they roamed all over each other's bodies, pinching, and kissing and biting.
Serena, so long without a real sexual partner, came first. She felt her belly tighten as her pussy started its rhythmic contractions. She pressed Marie's shoulders hard into the grass, covering her mouth with her own, her tongue rolling around the warm, wet cavern of Marie's generous, Gallic mouth.
She felt Marie moaning against her mouth, and felt her pussy cream gushing from her, wetting their lewdly pressed-together pussy hairs, matting them with sticky come juice. Serena increased the speed of her humping. She was pussy. Marie was pussy. Serena felt her whole body and soul travel to her pussy, felt her pussy become a gaping maw that wanted to envelop the whole world, felt the mouth of her womb opening and closing with a sucking sensation that turned her stomach inside out, and sent her brain reeling.
She was coming with great gushing flows of cream, her pink, wet woman meat pressing stickily into the wet woman meat of Marie's twat.
Marie was starting to hump rapidly up into Serena's snatch, and her moaning got louder, more prolonged. She was coming too. Her long arms snaked around Serena's neck, and she threw her legs around Serena's waist, to open up her swollen rose of passion wider to Serena's demanding, humping twat.
Their clitorises battled with each other, each kiss and each little pressure from their writhing hips creating a growing heat between them that was scorching them, driving the rhythmic beat of their orgasm out of their control.
They were both covered with sweat as the heat of their passion grew to almost intolerable heights. They came in a squealing, writhing, sensually grinding heat of passion and pleasure. Their bodies roamed over every inch of frontal skin they both had, and their hands and mouths joined in, increasing the intensity of their mutual ecstasy.
"Ohhhh." moaned Marie. "Ohhh, Serena, I love you," cried Marie, feeling her clitoris go wild under Serena's heavy humping motions.
"Yesss...." hissed Serena, covering Marie's face, her mouth, her neck, with rapid little biting kisses, that sent little pricks of pain and pleasure coursing through Marie's body, like stars twinkling in a pitch-black sky.
Finally, their pleasure peaked. It was almost pain as they hit the heights, and slowly traveled down, floating in a cloud of passion and ecstasy, collapsing into each other's body. For a moment, they had been one.
Now they lay together, two white, still entwined bodies, resting on the soft, green grass, gleaming with sweat, and trembling still with their recently spent passion.
They lay there for the longest time, listening to the sound of each other's breathing, feeling the pressure of breast against breast, their loins still lewdly coupled, and their combined pussy juices coursing still out of their still twitching twats, onto the green grass.
Marie ran her long, lovely fingers through Serena's bright red hair and kissed her. Then she put a strand of the hair into her mouth, and tongued it.
Serena smiled. It was such a sensuous gesture, so typical of this marvelous woman. She rolled off Marie, and they lay side by side, talking intimately for a long, lovely time, while the sun bathed their naked bodies. Their passion for each other grew with the heat of the afternoon sun.
"I would love to taste you," husked Marie. Serena felt her love juices flowing copiously.
She turned and looked at Marie. "I have been thinking the same thing."
Sensuously, they writhed around each other, touching, biting, pinching, and kissing, leaving little marks of possession to remember each other by, down each other's body, until they were in the classic sixty-nine posture. They were both exalted with the clean, musky-sweet smell of womanhood which greeted their nostrils.
Marie flicked out her tongue, and teased Serena's clit. Serena squealed with delight, having buried Marie's whole cunt in her mouth. The squeal sent shivers of pleasure through Marie, as she felt her cunt safe, and tucked away, warm, inside the wet womb of Serena's sucking mouth.
Marie humped her hips up, fucking Serena's mouth gently. She bit down on Serena's clitoris, and was rewarded by feeling Serena's pussy gush cream, and arch up abruptly into Marie's wide-open mouth. They sucked each other to one orgasm after another, as they lay, lazily, and passion-filled in the late afternoon sun, their clitorises jumping madly with each flick of a teasing tongue, their vaginal canals reamed with probing lance-like thrusts of tongues, burying each other's womanhood, in their wet, sucking mouths.
Finally, they exhausted each other, and lay, side by side, holding hands and panting. Serena's clit was sore from the sucking and biting that it had received all afternoon.
Marie was nursing the hickey on the side of her neck, threatening vengeance to Serena for her having given it. Serena smiled. "I love vengeance, particularly when it is wrought in bed," she husked, reaching over and pinching one of Marie's still passion-puckered nipples.
Marie smiled. "Serena, do you like the lash?"
Serena sat bolt-upright. "I don't know," she gasped, feeling her pussy rumbling upward toward another passion-fit. "I've never tried it."
"Would you like to?"
Serena lay down, and cuddled close to Marie. She was a little bit scared, but Serena knew better at this point in her life than to deny the reactions of her pussy, which always told the truth.
"Yes," she said, her eyes dimming with the growing lust in her belly.
At last, she had met her match. A woman to console her, to talk to, a woman who had the same kinky bent in her sexual nature as Serena had.
Serena was no longer alone.
"When?" she asked Marie, smiling.
Marie arched her expressive eyebrows. "Oh, I don't know," she purred. "Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week."
"Now!" demanded Serena.
"No, my lovely one," said Marie firmly. "You have won this battle, but there are others, and I must redeem my Gallic pride. You have seduced me, and for doing that there is a price to pay.
"I will tell you when we will share the lash. And I assure you, I will keep you in an agony of suspense."
Serena lay back, caressing her pussy, as Marie stood up and put on her damp bikini. "I think it is time to go back," she said.
Serena gazed up at her lazily. "Mmmmm...." she said, rising slowly, and also putting on her bikini.
"That's right," Serena said. "There is another suspense story going on in the house. Will James Jr. have his composition ready, or not?"
Marie smiled. They walked back to the house, hand in hand, relaxed and serene.
"Well," said Marie, as they approached the back door. "If he doesn't have his composition ready, he will not eat. And I think that will persuade him that he does not make the rules in the house."
"Chip off the old block!" muttered Serena, wryly, wondering how she could get her husband in on this act.
"They both just need a little more housebreaking," said Marie, looking pointedly at Serena. "And you and I are just the ones to do it."
"No," Serena said firmly. "I know so!" They walked in to prepare for dinner, and the resolution of the confrontation between mother and son.
The training of the members of the Caruthers household was off to an auspicious start.
CHAPTER FIVE
Serena was the first to the dinner table that evening. She was wearing a lavender, silk jump suit which displayed her feminine charms to the utmost.
Her hair was free, and rippled in natural, shining waves down her back. She was wearing her most expensive and seductive perfume.
Round one had begun in the training of her husband. Marie was equally seductive, and as Serena observed her, as they sat in the living room, sipping before-dinner cocktails, she wondered just what made Marie tick.
Serena wanted Marie in the worst way, and she wanted her husband, too. But then, hadn't she decided to have her cake and eat it, too?
She smiled at Marie, and her eyes caressed the silky, full curves of the French Governess's body, as she became aware of how lovely her own was.
It was a nice feeling, being aware of your own body, especially if you approved of it. Serena definitely approved of hers. She couldn't wait for her husband to come downstairs. And because Serena had fallen in love with her own body, she could afford to wish everyone else well, and appreciate the curves and contours of their bodies, instead of being jealous of them, or seeking to find fault.
That's the way it had been with Serena, before she let herself go, and now that she was back to her old physical glory, she was enjoying the feminine charm of Marie.
They proceeded to the dinner table before James arrived, as he was late.
James was late because he was taking extra care of his attire these days. And he certainly had good reason!
Serena had plenty of time to observe the effects of the wealth of feminine beauty. As James Sr. came to the table, his cock jumped to stiff attention. There at his board, were two of the loveliest women he had ever seen.
If Serena had wondered why James's business trips had dwindled in number and frequency, James knew damned well why! This gorgeous creature who was his wife, was driving him crazy. Initially, he had been attracted to her brazenness, the slight hint of something sexually perverse about her.
James was no coward. He had built an empire out of nothing, and he stopped at nothing to make it work, and to maintain it. But James was a bit of a prig with regard to sex. It wasn't that he wasn't fond of his wife, but she settled in so easily to being square, when what James wanted was a wild, crazy fling, and she became so dowdy so fast, due to the children. But this woman before her, this vision of mist and fire, was incredibly attractive to James.
He regretted having followed convention so long. He regretted all the proper decisions he had made that left him out in the cold, and caused him to resort to occasional flings in the hay with other women. He knew Serena hadn't liked the idea of separate bedrooms.
And he knew he shouldn't have demanded that she conform so much to the ways of the family. But there it was, and now, that conforming, very bored and often boring woman, had become dynamite, virtually under his nose. The problem was, she was carrying the game too far.
James suspected, when he knocked on her door, which he now did every night, that she was getting even for her years of bondage. And his anger was growing by leaps and bounds. He was so enamored of his wife now that he couldn't even get it up with another woman, desiring her so intensely that he had a perpetual hard-on.
Tonight he had more reason than usual to be angry. It wasn't a fact he could prove; it was a suspicion he had, as he watched the growing intimacy between the two lovely women, the easy way they had with each other, the expression on their faces as they looked at each other.
His wife? Well, it would be more in keeping with the hellion he had married! And the way his man, Marvin, was looking at her lately! That was another puzzlement. Had she...? No! That would be unspeakable.
But why? thought James, as he took his place at the head of the immaculately appointed table. At least she had been discreet, if she had, err ... And God knows, James was no paradigm of faithfulness. He smiled grimly to himself as Marvin poured the wine, the candlelight picking up the amber glow and warming it.
How beautiful some of the smallest things were, thought James, looking at the way his wife's red hair picked up the candlelight, and threw it back, shaming their glow. The way the candles reflected in her deep, suddenly alive and glowing brown eyes. He watched the chubby curl of Leticia's hand around the stem of her glass, filled with a lot of water, and a wee bit of wine, watched the moist young gleam of her skin, and the way she looked up suddenly, sensitive to his gaze, and smiled at him.
James really loved his home. He had absented himself from it for a long time to build his business, to build security. At least that is what he had always thought. But James was beginning to doubt his own motives.
He had more than enough money to live on comfortably for the rest of his life. And he had more than enough power, unless he wanted to be a dictator, which didn't particularly appeal to him.
Suddenly, he started.
"Where's James Jr.?"
Serena looked up at him, a twinkle in her eye. James noticed that even Marie's and Leticia's lips were twitching.
"He's under room arrest, darling. He may come down to dinner if he brings his pass."
"His pass?"
"Oui, Monsieur," giggled Marie. "His pass is a three-hundred word composition on why he shouldn't throw peas at his sister and say no to his mother."
James raised his eyebrows. Another new development. Serena taking an active interest in the rearing of her children. Well, will wonders never cease! He suddenly looked at Leticia. Somebody was teaching her decent table manners. She was using her fork and spoon properly, and she wasn't paddling in the finger bowl, nor playing with the food.
"Ohhh!" gasped Serena slightly.
"Anything wrong, darling?"
"No, dear, just a little charley horse. I was swimming all afternoon." Charley horse, my foot, thought Serena avoiding looking at Marie, whose hand had reached under the table cloth, and pinched a piece of her pubic hair!
Marie was cooing in French to Leticia, who was answering her very prettily. Serena joined in, her French a little more awkward, since she had not spoken it for years, nor ever properly studied it, until she started helping her children with their lessons.
James appeared in the doorway, a grim picture of childish wrath. Serena shook her head, wondering, as she often did, at his similarity to his father. James Jr. marched straight up to his adoring father. "Father?"
"Yes, son?" said James, smiling up at his own youth, reflected in the face and body of his progeny.
James Jr. pointed with the aplomb of a lawyer down the expanse of table to his gorgeous mother. "She spanked me."
"Oh?" husked James Sr., wondering whether to laugh or play it through to the end. He had never really regarded his children as real persons, treating them rather as toys, or pets. He decided on the latter course, especially since life in this house had become so interesting lately. Heaven only knew what would develop now. He had a feeling that Serena was absolutely right about slapping the child. But he didn't want to place too onerous a burden of guilt on James Jr. He didn't want the boy to think that the adults were ganging up on him.
"Yes, Dad, she did. And then she made me write a composition."
"No, I didn't make you write a composition. I merely suggested that, if you wished to eat dinner, it would be wise of you to explain yourself in so many words. And those so many words were three hundred to be exact." Serena was gazing with a warm firmness mixed with amusement at her stubborn son. She couldn't be too hard on the boy. She knew he came by his traits honestly, and that she and James had spared the rod for too long to come down heavily now.
"Do you have them?" Serena asked of her son.
James marched stiff-legged, down to the end of the table and thrust out his hand. In it were seven lined pages filled on both sides with script. Serena, so like a queen that James Sr.'s hard-on twitched again in his pants, extended her hand to receive her tribute. She smiled at her son, and asked him to sit down.
James sat. And sat. There was silence for awhile around the table, not a tense, bored silence which was so familiar to all of them but the warm, intense silence of excitement and anticipation.
"Well...?" questioned James Sr. of his son. "You had a complaint?"
James Jr. twitched in his seat, and fiddled with his napkin. He was rolling it into a ball, and then unwinding it.
"James," said Serena, "your napkin belongs in your lap. If you wish to play with some cloth, to experiment with shape and form, I shall be happy to supply you with some-after supper."
James unfolded the wrinkled napkin, and placed it in his lap. Serena had taken the composition James had written, and placed it neatly by her dinner plate.
"Aren't you going to read it?" James Jr. asked.
"After supper, when I have time to concentrate on it."
"Oh...." said James Jr., thoroughly at a loss for words. And he had decided, as he handed the composition to his mother, that he really didn't want to arouse the powers-that-be, by detailing his grievances to his father. James Jr. was too smart not to know that the spanking he had received was well-earned.
He was still enjoying the tingling sensation in his ass, occasionally twitching against the seat hard, to stimulate the pleasure sensations, which had given his little boy cock a mild erection. He wondered that his mother didn't land on him for the twitching.
He wouldn't know, until years later, how much his mother understood, and sympathized!
The evening passed quickly and pleasantly. Serena was pleased with her afternoon with Marie, and the anticipation of more to come. She was also pleased with the large bulge in her husband's pants, and the way he twitched and kept rising and moving around the room.
There was a new dimension to his restiveness this evening, however, and Serena couldn't quite place her finger on it. But he certainly wasn't mooning over her like a love-sick boy. He was actively desiring her. Serena's pussy, bare against the silk of the jump suit, twitched. Maybe if she drove him sufficiently to distraction ...!
She couldn't believe that a man would consistently prefer a missionary position, consistently come just before the woman, and consistently mutter the same old sweet shit in her ears as he was coming.
Serena certainly appreciated gentleness, and probably more than most women, given her sexual predilections for violence. But all the time? No, she loved a few obscenities husked into her ears, a rough hand bruising her soft white skin. A jolt or two, to remind her that she was small, and female, and helpless before the strength of a man.
She needed to know she was loved and desired, as surely as she needed to know she was needed, useful. And a bland performance with no great heights of passion was not her idea of an ideal marriage. That was the one thing that should keep the marriage going over all the rocks that were inevitable, given that there were two people, a husband and a wife, who were supposed to strive to achieve the impossible dictum, "And the two shall become one."
The closest you could come to achieving that stupidity was in sex, when all the boundaries that closed you in were lost in the giving and the getting, in the offering and the demanding. When the great I became we in passion and togetherness. Serena felt faint with desire.
She really did love this man, and the love had grown over their years together, almost unbeknownst to her. And she wanted him, as she had never wanted him before in her life-without the good family name, and all the superficial accoutrements of their fine life together-just him, the raw, naked, stubborn, striving, family-loving man. The man, who like her had grown up with a lot of preconceived notions that it takes a lot of hard work to get rid of.
Well, maybe she had been selfish. She was so eager to please, and to gain approval, that she had never voiced some of her desires to him.
And the way she had minced around, trying to imitate "high class" manners.
There's only one way for a man to behave in bed, and that's like a stud. And there's only one way for a woman to satisfy a stud-and that's to be a whore of the most abandoned sort. She had tried too hard to be a lady, even between the sheets, and he had never lost the veneer of being a gentleman.
That didn't make for togetherness!
Serena was extra lonely as she sought her bed that night, locking the door adjoining their rooms carefully. She had a feeling if she just gave in to him that it would be a dud, as many of their sexual sessions were. She wasn't going to put out easily. Let him fight for it. If he got desperate enough, maybe he would break out of his shell, and it would happen for both of them.
Her thinking was basically accurate. James was pacing the floor to his bedroom. His passion had become inflamed to a wild pitch by the lovely woman who was his wife, wafting around and leaving behind that gorgeous scent. And his passion was exacerbated by the two women who were so intimate. He was jealous, and of a woman!
And as he paced, there was one thought, which started small in his fevered brain, whispering so he could barely catch the accents, and then building in volume until it became a roar in his head and a conviction in his loins.
Rape!
Why in hell shouldn't he have her! She was his wife. And denying a man consortium was grounds for divorce, and he was damned if he was going to divorce that gorgeous, sultry creature-besides being the mother of his children!
And so his thoughts whirled in his head, as he paced the floor, his cock under his loose robe bobbing, each bobbing of his cock an agony that kept him from sleep. At one point, he felt he had to relieve himself, and he started for the bathroom, to jerk himself off.
As he stood there, in front of the toilet bowl, his throbbing pleasure pole in his sweaty hand, he rebelled. No, it was going to be his wife or nothing.
He was well aware of what a spitfire she was. He knew if he meant to rape her, that he would have to subdue her. His cock gave a lurch, and grew again. He had never felt it so big, or so demanding. It was like a monster, and it was leading him, as it stood there, at right angles to his body, the piss slit oozing pre-come. He was in its priapic power.
In desperation, he went to the door between their rooms, and knocked. There was no answer. He put his ear to the door. There wasn't any sound coming from the other room. He knocked again, louder. Still no answer.
With one violent move, he braced his hands against the door frame, reared back as far as the length of his arms would permit him, and buckling his knee into his solar plexis, rammed the heel of his foot against the door. It gave James a sense of primitive power that he had never felt before.
He had never been subject to outbursts of temper. His temperament tended to be steady and amiable, if firm. If he were angry, he stated his anger in terms of a gentleman, and he had always approached his wife as a gentleman.
He thought that was what she wanted, what all women wanted, and what any man worth his salt would give a woman. But now it was different.
Now, as he felt the muscles of his body bend to their unaccustomed task, he felt the throbbing of his cock deep in his bowels, as a war drum, bringing out all the latent violence that exists in any human being.
If he had been pallid and predictable before, Serena would be shocked now, and soon, would experience that shock, when she saw the James who would appear before her, divested of the thin veneer of civility which hid his animal nature, that very nature that Serena craved with all her heart.
Again, with a growing sense of wildness and joy, James reared back, and bucked forward, landing his heels on the wooden door.
He grinned, his upper lip flattening against his gleaming teeth. The heavy, smartly designed door cracked and splintered.
He had broken through!
Serena reared up in bed. She had been smirking. Now her eyes were wide with apprehension. Had the man gone mad? Gone from her head were all her cute little thoughts of driving him mad with passion. She was frightened.
She heard the impact of James's heel against the door, and it gave. Serena didn't know whether to run and scream, or stay and ride it through. She hated scenes. And what would she say if she ran out onto the landing, screaming for help.
Should she tell them her husband was going to rape her? And she knew, as James's heel landed for the third time against the door, wrenching it partially from the hinges, that that was, indeed what the man had in mind. She had been watching the bulge in his pants all night, and he hadn't left the house, and to the best of her knowledge, he hadn't had any of his extraneous nookie lately. He had been getting home from the office at a reasonable hour. He had not taken any trips. And he was more irascible, and itchy lately, meaning that he wasn't getting off.
Serena knew the feeling well. As she sat there, a prey to her own indecision, James's heel landed again on the door, and it gave, toppling over in slow motion until it landed with a crash on the carpeted floor. Surely someone in the house would hear the noise and come.
"J-J-James, what's the matter?"
James stood there, panting. In one lewd movement, he had shucked the loose dressing gown, and he stood there in all his priapic glory. Serena had never seen his cock so large.
"H-Have you been drinking?"
James was not talking, which scared Serena even more. What should she do? He approached her bed, walking deliberately, his throbbing cock bouncing with each of his heavy steps. Serena sat, quaking in the bed, the sheet drawn up to her chin, wondering if he had lost his senses.
Was this her James, her husband of ten years? Gentle, passive, sweet, considerate, under-sexed James. Oh, you fool! she thought to herself. Was he under-sexed, or had her neglect kept him under-stimulated?
There was no denying the throbbing monstrous glory of that inflated pleasure pole, pointing ineluctably in her direction. There was no gainsaying the passionate glow in his suddenly alive and lusting eyes. There was no escaping his inexorable and naked approach to her bed. He reached the side of it. She watched his handsome, well-built chest heaving with his passion. She was dumb with shock and fascinated with the power in his face.
And she felt her pussy cream with desire. She had kept him away to drive him to distraction, and here he stood before her, distracted beyond her wildest dreams. It was a sexual fantasy of the first order, one of the finest, and it was hers. She was going to be raped by her husband. But not without a fight!
He had reached over swiftly, and pulled the covers away from her quivering body. She gasped and jumped out of the bed on the other side, away from him. The bathroom! If she could get to the bathroom, she'd be safe.
James leaped over the bed, grabbing at her ankles, as he lay sprawled on the soft mattress. She toppled over, landing with a heavy thud on the carpeted floor.
"James, please, you are losing your mind! Stop, please!" James threw himself off the bed, landing partially on top of her. She scratched at his face, her fingernails leaving a large welt down one cheek. She was squealing and panting and writhing desperately under him.
"Noooo...." she cried. "Don't ... please...!"
A sudden knock on the door, caused James to clamp his large and powerful hand over Serena's mouth. She tried to bite his hand, but he squeezed hard against her cheeks, bruising them.
She hard Marvin's voice. "Madame, is everything all right?"
James found his voice at last. "Everything's fine, Marvin. Sorry we disturbed you. Just a little horseplay."
"Oh!" came Marvin's voice, lightly. "So sorry, sir."
James laughed, loud and long, and then grunted, pressing himself harder . into the struggling body of his wife.
"One more sound out of you, and I'll whip that soft, lovely skin right off you. You're my wife, and I'm sleeping with you tonight."
He laughed lewdly into her face, as he squirmed all over the soft, lovely contours of Serena's flesh. "No, we're not doing any sleeping tonight. I'm going to fuck you to death."
He released his hand, to plant a kiss on his wife's full lips. She bit his lip. Her head reeled with pain, as he brought his palm down on her cheek in a violent, head-wrenching slap, which left her gasping.
James had taken her arms and pinned them over her head, against the floor. "Now clean up the blood you drew," he growled, pushing his mouth against hers.
"Mmmmm...." protested Serena, feeling her pussy lips spread, as the blood rushed to them to feed her passion. James slapped her again.
"I said wash the blood from my lips!"
Reluctantly, Serena reached out the tip of her tongue to her husband's mouth, where her teeth had cut them. She licked, gingerly, not wanting to kiss him, knowing that if she did, she'd give in too quickly, and the fun was only beginning.
James's tongue flicked out, running along her lower Up. Serena reached up and bit the tip of it fiercely.
"Unnhh!" grunted James, grabbing her hair suddenly, and pulling her face away from his.
"You little fucking cunt of a spitfire. You need some manners beaten into you, as you beat them into my son today."
While Serena squealed, and kicked, her arms flailing, and useless against the undeniable strength of her husband, he pulled her to her feet, and dragged her to the closet. There, searching among the clothes, he found what he was looking for-her riding quirt.
Serena redoubled the strength of her fighting. "No, James, you've gone mad. You can't mean that-ouch!"
Serena felt the little whip bite into her calf, as her husband brought it down hard, then he threw her on the bed, and brought it down again. It landed on her ass cheek. She screamed, the blow causing her to bounce on the bed. She raised her arms to defend her from the rain of lashes now falling freely on her lovely, flawless white body.
She started to cry. She was being beaten by her own husband! She felt the welts rising on her skin, as her husband whipped, aiming for her breasts, her ass, her back, her sides, her arms, and the blows hitting with a frequency and accuracy that increased the pain growing in Serena's body.
And as the pain grew, so did her pleasure. Her pussy was sending out little signals of fire. She wasn't going to give in. She wasn't going to put out. Let the bastard take her. And that was exactly what he was going to do.
Serena knew that was what he intended to do when he broke the door down. She was squealing frantically now, writhing all over the bed, as the whip came down in a rythmic, increasing tempo, which drove her to a frenzy.
She watched her husband, sweating like a pig, driving the lash onto her body. She watched his breathing becoming shallow, rasping in his passion-constricted throat.
And she watched as he threw the whip to one side, panting, and stood there, staring down at her, his eyes mad with lust, his body shaking, his cock throbbing, stood there, about to take what was his by right.
Serena lay, trembling, waiting for her fate.
CHAPTER SIX
James threw himself suddenly and violently, on his wife's trembling body.
"Now you're going to get fucked," he husked, pressing his body into hers, while he maneuvered her into position. He spread her legs harshly wide, with his knees, having forced them between her trembling legs.
Serena was weak from the beating, and from her own pent-up desires, and it wasn't too much to expect that she would feel faint.
She did, much to her joy. She felt overpowered, weak, and small, and at the same time, secure in the hands of this brute with whom she had lived on terms of easy familiarity for so long.
If familiarity is, indeed, what breeds contempt, then Serena felt her contempt whisked away with the violence and the powerful charisma which her husband was exuding now, his weight pressed into her.
And Serena wanted him now in the worst way!
As she lay beneath him, holding out for one more delicious second, made all the more sweet by the knowledge that if she didn't give in, and she really wanted to, he would take what he wanted.
And she adored him! Adored this sweet, gentle, predictable man turned caveman before her very eyes. She loved the gleaming look of lust in his eyes, the feel of his cock throbbing against her quivering, helpless flesh.
She felt herself, trembling on the brink of her orgasm, and lost it as her eyes seemed to bore through the eyes of her husband, as they pierced through her, heating her with their lustful, passionate glow.
She raised her knees, so it would not be difficult for James to gain access to her. Serena moaned, as James's hands came up, and pulled her hair, jerking her face up to his. Then he kissed her, violently, with bruising pressure that caused her lips to swell. His rough tongue snaked between her resisting teeth, forcing them apart, and he invaded her mouth, his tongue running wild in the warm wet oral womb.
His tongue reached all the way back to her soft palate, almost causing her to gag. Then she felt his throbbing merciless mauler at the door to her wet, weak-with-desire, all-too-willing pussy.
She gasped against his tongue as he pushed hard, ramming his cock balls-deep into her aching cunt. She felt his balls slap hard against her ass cheeks. She hadn't felt that full in a long, long time, and never had her husband's cock felt so hot, so driving, so demanding.
She almost fainted with ecstasy. She closed her eyes, and abandoned herself to him, arching her hips up into his hard-thrusting groin, feeling his pubic hairs slamming into her mons pubis, as he pulled out to the tip of his cock, and then rammed home again.
He fucked her without mercy, and seemingly without end. Serena flew to the heights of passion, and stayed, trembling on the brink of an ecstatic fall into space, willing herself to stay where she was, surrendering to the hard-driving stud who was raping her.
There was no gentleness, no consideration of her sensitivities evident in this violent man, no soft sweet nothings whispered with civility into her ears.
This was a wild man, who was bruising her, his strong, iron-hard fingers digging into her flesh, causing her pain, and more pleasure than she had ever known with him before.
His fucking had a wild, demanding rhythm to it that required no cooperation on her part, indeed, it would have been impossible to meet him thrust for thrust, as his cock abraded her delicate pussy membranes, grinding in and out of her twat without mercy.
She felt the first shivers of her passion run through her, lightning like in their effect. The pleasure was an agony of joy. And the joy was augmented to a frenzy by the knowledge that this man, this strange, wild rapist, was her husband, and she loved him.
She loved him to distraction, loved the abandon with which he fucked her. She felt his lips oh her neck, felt the hard bite of his teeth, as he left a hickey on her white flesh, his mark of possession. She was bruised and marked all over, her whole body a story of his passionate possession of her.
She went wild under him, her body quaking with violent spasms that wrenched her free from all constraint, as his cock drove home again and again, driving her orgasm higher and higher.
And then she was screaming, and her mouth was being covered by the wide, demanding mouth of James, striving to stifle the scream, and it was buried in his mouth. His teeth bit down hard on her lower lip, and Serena tasted blood. The pain eased up some of her mad frenzy.
Then she felt her husband coming, in great warm gushes of spunk that splashed against the walls of her brutally fucked pussy. She felt his manhood spewing into her, spreading to all the secret places of her womanhood, melting her with liquid fire.
Oh, please, she thought, let it be a baby. I want a baby from tonight! Tears of joy and passion coursed down her cheeks, as her husband, his passion spent, at least for the moment, collapsed heavily on top of her, his chest heaving, pressing against her breasts. His body, as it relaxed, seemed to spread, covering her.
They were glued together with their private juices, and the sweat that had poured freely from their bodies, as they joined in their lewd coupling. James's hands relaxed their mauling movements, and he forced his arms under her back. She winced as the pressure exaggerated the pain from the whipping she had received.
He squeezed her into him, seeming to want to press her whole body deep within his, until they were truly one. Serena ran her tongue over her husband's quivering shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat, her tongue outlining the quivering muscles, the pulsing veins.
Wonderful! How sensitive a tongue is. The tip can pick up taste, and odor, detect the delicate coursing of blood through a vein, and through skin. It was an erotic organ that was seldom acknowledged she felt. She wanted to suck her husband off.
She looked up at him, relaxed and warm and comfortably, erotically sticky, under his still heaving body, looked questioningly into his eyes. The lust was unabated there, and the face was still the face of a rapist. Again Serena felt her pussy melt with desire. Their night was by no means over. The very thought sent shivers running up and down her spine, as she felt her husband's cock shrink slowly, throbbingly, in her well reamed-out snatch.
His arms did not release their grip on her back. James was not about to relinquish his proprietary rights. Serena buried her face in James's shoulder, and lay there, quietly breathing in his heavy, musky, sexy aroma, and waited, as the slave she had become, waiting for his next demand.
She knew it would be a heavy one.
James pulled out of Serena with a heavy plopping sound. Serena's pussy almost cried out with agony at the loss of James's cock.
Serena looked doubtfully up into James's face. He was looking at her, the lust still unbridled in his face and eyes. He rolled off her, and lay beside her. Serena turned on her side, running her hands over his washboard belly. James slapped her hands away, brusquely.
She lay back, and turned her head away, her eyes filling with tears. Could it be that now that she had discovered her great love for him, that James no longer cared for her?
James, for his part, was wondering at the disparity between desire and reality. He wanted her again, wanted to take her all night, but he was temporarily spent. He heard her sniffeling quietly, unobtrusively beside him, and he felt the heat grow in his loins.
He had her in his power, finally! The cool, easy-going, distant Serena had behaved like the hottest sow in heat when he took her by force. Was that what she wanted? He had felt guilty when he first kicked the door down. Now he was basking in his own pleasure, and the fact that he knew Serena had climaxed, too.
Then he remembered some of the magazines he and his wilder girlfriends had read. Serena could suck him off! Now James was a fully-sexed man, but he had not had much feedback into sexual practices. His father, a bona-fide member of the Old School in good standing, had taught him to be gentle and respectful to his wife, and to sow his wild oats with the wild women, who'were "not ladies." James had followed his father's advice to the letter, until tonight.
He had been wondering how he could make up this act of violence to his wife, how he could prevent her from leaving him for the outrage he had committed. However, the memory of Serena, squealing and climaxing under him, as no woman had ever done, gave him courage.
James rolled over, and straddled the sobbing Serena, his knees braced on both sides of her lovely tits, his .cock pointing to her averted jaw. He reached over and slapped her face toward him. Serena's lovely, tear-filled eyes looked up at him. She was frightened.
"Suck me up again. I'm not finished with you yet," he growled, hating himself for the roughness with which he was treating her, and the surly sound of his voice. He wasn't being a gentleman at all!
Serena's eyes roved to the semi-erect penis, lying on her chin. She reached down without a word, and sucked in the tip of James's demanding dork. James threw his head back as he felt her soft mouth embrace his penis wetly. He felt his cock jump, felt the blood pumping into it. He moved up farther on her lovely, soft breasts, squeezing his thighs against her sides to get a better feel of their spongy, sexy texture against his rough, hairy inner thighs.
Then he leaned down, pressing his bruising weight against her shoulders, as Serena sucked. She licked up and down his long, and rapidly-growing cock, her mouth acting like a vacuum, sucking the spunk up from his balls.
She looked up and watched her husband's face, twisting lewdly into a mask of passion. She felt the bruising grasp of his passion-ridden hands, pressing into her shoulders, leaving black-and-blue marks. She knew she would be covered with bruises in the morning. And she didn't know how she would explain the black eye she had received from James's rough slapping of her face.
But she loved the rough way he was demanding his pleasure from her, loved the feel of his long, throbbing pleasure-pole, growing in her mouth.
"Stop!" he bellowed. She paused in her journey down to the base of his cock. She was aiming for his balls, wanted to feel them in her mouth. James pulled his massive, throbbing dick out of Serena's sucking mouth. Serena could see the drop of pre-come oozing from the slit, and she knew he was about to come.
He moved down the bed, still straddling her, until he was at a level with her knees. He slapped her roughly on her white haunches.
"Turn over," he husked. Serena's heart was beating violently, as she did as she was told. She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, as she contemplated the possibilities, and she was pretty sure which one he had opted for.
She had her suspicions confirmed, when she felt his rough hands yanking her hips up into the air, until her white ass cheeks were waving obscenely in the air. They were covered with welts, and as James caressed the welts, occasionally pinching the soft white skin, and making Serena yelp with pain, he thought with a perverse pleasure that he had caused these welts. They were his brand on his woman, and he was going to make her completely his woman tonight, or kill her in the attempt.
He spread her ass cheeks wide, feeling her muscles cringe under his rough handling. He stared at the brown, puckered entrance to her ass hole. He had had her pussy, and her mouth, and now he was going to take her ass.
He was going to shove his prick into every orifice he could. If he could have made it in her ears and her nostrils, he would have done that, too, but her ears were too tiny, and so were her nostrils. He would have ripped the flesh trying to enter her.
He aimed his red, angry-looking prick at the quivering entrance to her shit chute. There was a sardonic grin on his face, as he thought how obscene this act was. But James was a man obsessed, carried away by his lust for his own wife. He didn't care anymore, how degraded the act was. Never in his life had he done this, not even to the call-girls he had had. The very thought of it had repelled him. But James was not himself, or at least he thought he wasn't, and his pent-up passion had got the better of him, was master of his finer instincts.
And so he humped his hips forward, and heard Serena squeal with pain, as the thick, mushroom-shaped head of his cock pushed past her resisting sphincter muscle, and wedged itself in her nether channel.
He could hear Serena gasping, felt her ass cheeks trembling as he pushed hard, harder, striving to bury his cock in her shit chute.
"Ohhhh, nooooo...." moaned Serena. She felt his massive, throbbing cock pushing inward, into the very depths of her bowels. Tears of pain were streaking down her cheeks. Nobody had been this rough with her ass, since the two beasts she had picked up on the eve of her wedding. And James was even rougher, and his cock was bigger, stuffing her painfully, filling her asshole as she had never been filled before.
It was like poetic justice. Serena tried to relax, but James's demanding dork was drilling its way up her rectum with a ferocity that was driving Serena crazy with pain.
She really didn't want this pain-it was too much. She started to struggle under his driving ramrod, and the effort only further impaled her asshole on his pile-driver.
"No, James, pleeeeeaasssee!"
James was driven to further fury by the sound of her pleading, by her gasping, by her frenzied struggling under him. He pushed harder, and heard Serena scream, saw her mouth open and her eyes close shut against the fierce pain as he pushed himself deep into her, balls deep.
He reached his hands up from her hips, where he had been holding her, pressing her ass onto his spunk-filled male javelin, and ran his hands up her belly, feeling the muscles contracting against the pain, feeling her quick heavy breathing, as she panted in agony.
Her body felt warm and soft, and beneath the soft skin he could feel the muscles, contracting violently as he inflicted this cruel punishment on her. James almost relented of his perverse punishment. He felt a growing wave of pity for his much-abused wife, and the pity only served to further inflame his driving cock.
In a fury, he slammed home again, driving his rod deep within her bowels, hearing her squeal with pain, and then moan. He felt the walls of her rectum being dragged along with his cock's movement, watched the puckered rectal opening flower out obscenely, stretched to its ultimate capacity.
And as he drove his pleasure pole home again, violently, he got more and more turned on by the very obscenity, the very violence and perversity of the act he was committing.
He was reaming out his wife's asshole. Serena's moaning was becoming softer, more prolonged. It couldn't be! She was enjoying this? As he slammed his hard-driving rammer home again, he reached down with his hands and felt her pussy.
The lips were swollen and hot, and sticky with her pussy cream. The very idea of it sent James into further paroxysms of passion, and the speed of his plowing in and out increased, and the intensity of the strokes increased, as he fingered her twitching clit.
Serena had relaxed a little, which opened her rectum a bit more to her husband's painful plowing rod. The pain and heat from his cock's friction against her rectal walls was traveling upward, coursing through her whole body. She remembered, with a start, the eve of her wedding, and the way she had shamelessly courted degradation, violating herself before her wedding, cheating on her husband-to-be.
She was getting it all back in spades now.
Her pussy creamed more, as she thought of the poetic justice involved in this humiliating act which her husband was performing on her now.
She could feel her whole body singing with her impending orgasm. Her head felt light, as she realized who was doing this to her. Her conventional, ordinary, impassive husband. Dork-man couldn't have been wilder or more brutal in his taking of her, as her husband was being now, and Serena was loving every minute of it.
She wanted him to go on and on and on, to kill her with his passion, to drive his cock right up to her throat.
She moaned, long and low in her throat, her head bouncing from side to side, from the impact of her husband's hard-driving cock.
The reaming out her ass was getting was driving her crazy, the agony shooting wildly to her head, making it buzz with pain, spreading to her arms and legs, causing them to tremble with weakness and anguish.
Then the pain and the warmth was traveling slowly to her pussy, warming it, making it wet and ready to come again. She clawed the pillow with her hands as she felt the impending violence building in her. She knew that her body was going to go wild again, and her husband's rough finger on her clitoris was increasing the speed with which she was climbing.
She braced herself, feeling her rectal walls give under the enormous spreading plow as it rammed in and out of her. She had broken out in a cold sweat, as her body began to shiver uncontrollably.
The first orgasmic spasm rolled over her like a juggernaut, destroying all vestiges of her rationality, turning her into a jibbering, squealing writhing animal, as her husband rutted over her, labored with his long, manly plow to bring her to fruition.
As her pussy began its white-hot spasms, her anus contracted around her husband's driving cock, sucking the gism out of his rod. She felt the first splash of come coat her abraded asshole, soothing the fiery pain into quiescence, and after that she remembered nothing. Just felt the wild, all-encompassing waves of pleasure flow over her again and again and again, felt her husband, dominating her, driving her to her highest peak of pleasure. The pain still flicked through her, lighting and contrasting garishly with the pleasure that had drowned her reason.
She was frothing at the mouth, her body taut as a strung bow, her ass now grinding wildly into her husband's humping hips, as they came together, in insane, erratic, bruising, beating rhythm, which drove them both wild. The waves receded almost as suddenly as they had come, leaving them both collapsed, breathing heavily, glued together in their sweat, and come and passion. Serena, lying prone on her belly, felt the weight of her husband almost smothering her, as he lay, covering her. She felt his cock dwindling slowly, until it popped out of her-rectum with an obscene squishing sound. Still her husband's body covered her, silently.
Serena lay under him, savoring the warm, wet feel of him, feeling his heaving chest, as he strove to fill his tortured lungs with air, felt the hard puffs of his breath blowing against her neck, wetly, sexily. Serena was turned on again. She wanted more of this wild man her husband had become, this stud who had driven her mad with passion and lust and pleasure.
But James lay there, silent for the longest time. She felt his wet, sticky body relaxing by sudden little jerks against her. She realized that he had fallen asleep. She lay there for the longest time, feeling his breathing turn rhythmical once again, and deep, as James plunged into a deep, after-fuck sleep.
Slowly, Serena wiggled out from under the dead weight of her husband. She winced as she sat up slowly in bed, and gazed at her flawless body, marked by her night of passion with her husband. Her body felt alive, tingling. She was by no means spent.
Serves you right, she thought to herself, ironically. If you hadn't deprived yourself, trying to deprive him, you wouldn't be such a rutting sow now. She got up and went to the bathroom. As she looked in the mirror, she gasped at the welts and bruises covering her body. And sure enough, just as she suspected her husband had given her a black eye.
Serena smirked at her bloated, abused face in the mirror. The marks would all go away, and she was amused to think that James, gentle, over-refined, over-civilized James, had become a raging, rutting brute and had given her a black eye, just like the lower classes!
Serena laughed out loud. It was worth all the deprivation to have him come on like that. She was hoping he wouldn't be too guilt-ridden in the morning. She didn't want such a wonderful thing spoiled. She didn't want her husband scared off the rough stuff.
She turned on the shower, and bathed her aching body under the steaming spray, caressing herself with the soap. She guessed she would wake him up early in the morning. Have a good rousing fuck with him, if he weren't too hung up on tonight's proceedings. She also knew that she would have to talk to him more, explain what she wanted.
Yes, there had been a lot of drawing room talking, but precious little intimate communication between the two of them. And that would have to cease. She could get the ball rolling in the morning, by waking him up. She grinned as she thought how she was going to do it.
She got out of the steaming shower, and dried herself off. She was hungry. She smiled. She had forgotten how good an appetite sex always gave her. She quickly calculated in her head how many calories she had consumed, and decided she still had a reserve left. She could have a bowl of consomme. She dried off quickly, and threw on a gorgeous satin robe, and quietly left the bedroom, closing the door carefully behind her. Her husband was out like a light, and snoring slightly.
She had never known he snored, but then, they had seldom slept together, each having their own room. James had been so proper before the marriage, that after she had seduced him, she strongly suspected that his desire to make an honest woman out of her was one of the reasons he married her. She smiled, before closing the door, and blew the dear, sweet man a kiss.
She reached the kitchen, and turned on the light. She had seldom been in the kitchen, and it took some looking before she found a can of consomme, and it took more opened and slammed shut cupboards before she found cooking utensils. She would have to take care of that. She used to be a good cook. She hadn't touched a pot or pan since she had been married.
As she sat down at the table with the steaming warm bowl of soup, slurping it happily, her mind was planning tomorrow.
It was going to be a big day. Martha, Marvin and she were going up to the prison, to start a new program there with the cooks. And of course, the highlight would be her waking up her husband. She slurped her soup with some anxiety growing in her.
What would their relationship be like now? Would James have scared himself by his violence? She remembered the perverted way she had spent her wedding eve, how awesome the guilt felt the next day. Well, she was sure she could take care of that, especially, if she made the approaches in the morning. That would at least tell him that she hadn't been turned off, still loved him. Still loved him?
Had just found out how much she loved him!
The clock in the kitchen ticked a comforting, steady tattoo in her head, and Serena started to get sleepy in the quiet, warm, homey atmosphere.
Then she heard a noise. It startled her out of her warm, sleepy mood. She was not initially alarmed when she heard it, until she heard it again. A sharp, cracking sound, a moan, and the muffled, evil sound of a man's laughter. It was coming from the cellar.
Slowly, Serena rose. Should she go get Marvin, or her husband, or should she just call the police? Serena decided against those more rational alternatives.
Gutsy as she was, her curiosity could not be quelled, even in the midst of anxiety, so she wrapped her satin robe tighter around her, and crept to the cellar door.
She opened it cautiously, and winced as she heard it squeak on its hinges. There were no sounds in the dark cavern below, and she descended slowly, feeling her way with her hands. She knew that at the foot of the stairs there was a light switch. She had been down here a few times to get the children's bicycles.
As her hand reached, fumblingly for the light switch, her heart froze in her breast. She felt a rough, masculine hand clamped over her mouth, and a powerful arm around her waist, lifting her and carrying her into the gloom beyond.
The shock set her senses reeling. She had no ideas in her head and only fear in her heart.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Serena struggled against the rising panic that was threatening to bury her sharp wit and her strength. As she felt herself being carried through the pitch black to the farthest reaches of the cellar, she tried to control her panting, erratic breath.
The man's fingers, covering her mouth, were bruising her cheeks, pressing cruelly into the soft skin. The panic lifted somewhat, when her native humor got the best of her. She could always detail this incident in the cellar as the reason for the black eye.
She had a feeling that James was going to be very embarrassed when he saw it. In the distance, she saw a dim light. It was the old tackle room, now long abandoned. It had been used when the inhabitants of the house had owned a carriage before the days of the automobile.
As a matter-of-fact, the old equippage was still there, the landau, the turnabout, and the magnificent coach, which used to be driven, so the old-timers in the neighborhood said, by an incredible matched set of four bays, imported from Ireland. The room was seldom visited, and James kept it carefully locked, due to the value of the old-fashioned conveyances. A very prominent buyer from a very prominent institution in Washington had offered James thousands upon thousands of dollars for the vehicles, and James, as a matter of family pride, since the coach still bore the family crest proudly, had refused, preferring to keep the treasures in the family.
Their value could only be enhanced and twice a year, he and Marvin came down to oil the old wood down, and rub the rust from the axles and the iron braces. Serena felt herself carried to the door, beneath which the light shone in a long, broad, flat ray of gold.
She lay passive in the powerful arms which were carrying her, wondering what fate lay in store for her behind that formidable, and until now, locked door.
She felt as if it were a fairy tale out of Grimm, only more explicit in its sexual nature, not that Serena ever kidded herself about the fairy tales she had read to her children, when they were younger. Some of them used to make her cream in her pants.
And Serena's pussy was really creaming now, as she felt herself suspended from the powerful arms, felt the male odor of sweat, and recently expended sexual juices, felt the hot, moist breath of the man's mouth, blowing on her pinioned neck.
She could come just like this, she thought, wondering at her perversity, and enjoying it anyway.
Against her ass crack, she could feel a monstrous bulge, and she knew that the man was in full erection. The very thought of it, and the thought of the recent ass-reaming her husband had given her, caused her to become weak in the knees.
What was going to happen to her? Serena could go a little pain with her pleasure, but mutilation, and terminal sado-masochism, that is, torture that ended in death, or close to it, was a frightening prospect.
Then she saw the door open, and she was carried through. The door slammed shut behind her, and she caught her breath in her throat, as she heard the heavy lock slam into its bolts.
At first, she was slightly blind, as she tried to adjust her eyes to the dim light. Even though she had been carried a way in darkness, the bright lights from the kitchen were still with her, contracting her pupils. As her eyes adjusted, her pupils dilated with terror.
What greeted her wondering eyes was the runabout being slowly dragged around the room by-Martha! Martha's strong, work-worn, thick body, naked as the day she was born, was chained to the traces of the sharp little cart, a bit in her mouth from which her saliva dripped down both sides, dribbling off her chin, and splashing on the stone floor.
In the runabout itself sat Marie, a vision in black leather. In her hands she was wielding a long, brutal looking black leather whip, which she was cracking over Martha's broad, straining back.
Marie stopped in her driving of Martha, pointing the whip in Serena's direction.
"So! You have brought the little lamb to slaughter, eh, Marvin!"
Behind her, husking in her ear, She heard the sultry laugh of Marvin.
"Bring her to the cart. Let her be a passenger for awhile. Soon she will know the tip of the whip, too."
Marvin hauled Serena, shaking and awe-struck, over to her beloved Marie. She was still in shock, the scene registering in a bizarre, alien kind of way. She felt divorced from it, as if it were something happening outside herself, away from her immediate environment, but still Marvin's powerful arms were around her waist, although he had removed his hand from her mouth.
Serena's mouth was wide open, but not in any attempt to scream. She doubted, even if she desired to make the attempt, that she could.
Her breath was coming in quick gasps, as Marvin heaved her on the seat of the runabout as if she were a feather, and jumped into the cart, sitting on the seat opposite to Marie and her.
She turned to look at Marie, and found her black-masked face gazing into her face. Her eyes behind the black leather mask, were twinkling.
"So my pet, you will taste the whip sooner than you expected."
Serena turned to Marvin, attracted by his husky, deep-throated chuckle, and she gasped.
Marvin was stark naked, with the exception of a black leather mask, leather, studded wrist bands, and a huge, studded leather belt around his waist. ilis cock was massive, fully twelve inches, and it was erect. It stood at an obscene forty-five degree angle from his belly. Serena's eyes widened as she stared at the massive, gorgeous body of the faithful manservant who had tread so lightly in her home for so many years, had attended to her wants and needs so faithfully, with such self-effacement.
Charles Atlas in his heyday, Samson, Atlas, himself, would have envied the perfect, powerful body that sat with such ease in the pleasure cart. Every muscle on his body was delineated with perfect, Michaelangelo-like precision. His smooth, tawny skin was gleaming with sweat, and Serena creamed in her pants as she thought what effort must have been put forth to produce the perspiration. The room was redolent with the odor of sexuality, recently indulged in.
Then her gaze wandered to Martha, her broad body gleaming between the traces. Martha was heavy, but not fat. She had a beautifully formed, Germanic body, and her muscles, too, gleamed solid, and well-formed on her buttocks, her back, her thighs, and her rounded, firm arms. Her waist was small in comparison to her hips and breasts. And such breasts she had. Huge, melon-shaped, and swinging pendulously under her, jiggling with her every movement. She could have been sculpted in marble, a tribute to Mother Earth, and she certainly was the epitome of that rotund, fertile womanhood so universally worshipped throughout the world.
Serena was staring at her round, marble-perfect white haunches, and watched her pussy lips, peeking through the abundant flesh. They were red, and swollen, like a budding rose of passion, gleaming with come juice. She could see little trickles of cream seeping out of Martha's little hole. Martha was obviously enjoying her bondage.
Her back was raised in long, gleaming welts from the ministrations of Marie's lashing. And as Serena stared fascinated at the woman, Marie stood up in the cart.
"Enough, you slut, you've had your rest. Move! Move!" With that she flicked the whip with a practiced hand, and the tip of the whip raised another welt on Martha's heaving back. Martha tossed her head back and grunted from the pain of the whip, and moved, her heavy, strong arms and legs moving the cart, and its occupants forward. They moved slowly, ponderously, around the room, around the large, gleaming, ghostly coach with the family coat of arms, and the landau, sitting resting on its traces. Serena, as they moved at a dream-like pace around the room, almost heard the ancient ghosts of this ancient family, whispering from the stone walls of the great, dark room, their misty images peeling off the walls, as they rose from their ages-long slumber to witness the bizarre ritual of pain and pleasure being performed here tonight.
What an obscenity, in an apparently normal, sunlit household, where every word and gesture was ritualized for the greatest ease, and the least surprise in life. Serena found it hard to believe that she had been transported to this world of perversions, nestled in a corner of her well-ordered household.
And her pussy twitched. Her breathing had been shallow for a long time now, caught by her shock, and her fascination. It was as if her mind were transported outside itself, stood, slightly above her, hovering over her head, watching in mild surprise.
Finally, Marie desisted from her whipping, and called, "Whoa!" to Martha, who stopped, ponderous, heavy, and obedient in her traces, and waited for the next command.
Marie stepped out of the runabout, and released Martha from her traces.
"Now, you may rest, Mare," said Marie, removing the bit from Martha's frothing mouth. "Go sit in the cart."
Martha climbed in. She stared with grave solemnity at Serena, who stared back. But there were no words exchanged.
"Bring out the fresh horse," shouted Marie, to Marvin. Marvin got up, and stood, smiling over Serena. His cock bobbed at about eye level, and Serena resisted the urge to put her mouth over it. After all, he was married to Martha, and Serena was the lady of the house. She had better maintain at least some of the familiar decorum that was observed. At least that much familiar habit might save her from going over the deep end.
And Serena was being drawn more and more into sympathetic affinity with this blatant outrage to everything civilized.
With a sudden, practiced move, Marvin reached down, and pulled Serena to her feet. With another assured gesture, Serena found herself divested of her satin robe, watching Marvin throw it out of the cart. It described a shimmering pale blue arc in the dim light, and landed in a luxurious, gleaming heap on the stone floor.
Everything to Serena seemed to be in slow motion. She felt Marvin's powerful arms lift her over the sides of the cart, and she felt herself land on the stone cold floor. She had come to the kitchen in bare feet, and she started at the kiss of the cold stone against the soles of her feet.
Marie was snapping her fingers, summoning Serena to her sexual destiny for the evening. As if in a trance, Serena moved toward the powerful leather-clad Marie, and felt herself pushed to her hands and knees, on the hard, cold stone floor, between the traces of the cart.
Still in a dream-like state, Serena felt the cold bite of the steel bit between her teeth, as Marie forced the bit into her mouth, felt the bite of the checkrein, pulling her head back, forcing her to enslaved docility, whether she wished it or not. Marie hauled the crupper over her backsides, and adjusted the breeching, which cut across her buttocks muscles.
Serena blushed, as the breast collar was pulled through the girth, the heavy leather biting into her soft jiggling globes. Then the girth was tightened, and Serena's enslavement was complete. She was nothing more than an animal, harnessed to the brute pleasure of whoever held the reins.
She cried out, as she felt the reins pulled heavily, felt the bit pull against the sides of her mouth. Marvin was at the reins this time, and Serena quaked, as she realized that if Marie's hand was heavy, Marvin's hand was sure to be heavier!
Then she felt the bite of the whip on her naked, white, already bruised and beaten back, and she winced and cried out again. She didn't know if she could take this. She had recently suffered several hours of heavy sexual abuse from her husband. Even if she still felt greased, and alive sexually, she didn't think she wanted to suffer more masochistic pleasure.
She tried to hang her head, only to have her head checked by the brutal leather harnessing that held her body in whatever position her master and mistresses desired. There was no way she could hide, no way she could wiggle out of this.
And as the realization dawned on her that she was, indeed, a captive, her dream-like state vanished, leaving wounded pride, humiliation, and a futile anger in its place. Here she was, the mistress of this household, and these creatures her servants, and yet, she was in bondage to them!
The thought brought angry tears to her eyes, stinging them, and blurring her vision. This was more than she had ever bargained for, when she told Marie that she would like to taste the whip.
And then she did, indeed, taste the kiss of the whip against her white buttocks. Marvin's hand was as practiced and sure as Marie's had been, only this time, instead of being a witness, Serena was on the receiving end. She reared up in the harness, struggling to shed the humiliating, degrading bondage. It was hopeless!
"Move, mare, move!" bellowed Marvin, landing the whip again on Serena's quivering backside. Serena pulled against the breast collar, trying to avoid the pressure of the bit in her mouth. At first she didn't move the cart at all, the weight in it being too heavy, or so she thought, for her strength.
But the body-building and healthy regimen Serena had followed for the past weeks, had built up her body to perfection, and her strength was greater than she herself realized.
As she felt the whip bite into her quaking flesh again, she pulled, harder this time, and the cart moved, slowly, ponderously and jerkily at first, but with a growing rhythm, as the burden lightened with its motion.
"Hah! Hah! Gee-up!" Marvin was shouting.
Serena was doubly frustrated by the fact that she couldn't anticipate the vicious bite of the whip, couldn't look back over her shoulders because of the harnessing that held her head straight forward, to see what was going to happen next. She was bound to a pure, degrading helplessness that stung her breast as acutely as the whip was stinging her white, exposed, and vulnerable flesh.
Serena thought of all the horse shows to which she had gone, her fondness for the riding quirt, which she used liberally on her high-spirited thoroughbred mare.
How dare she, she thought. What a piece of arrogance. We ask a wild creature, a horse, to do our bidding, and then we torture him in the process, force a basically docile nature into servility.
She made a mental note to remind Marie that she was not to be too severe in her punishment of her children, too. Children can be broken the same way.
And while she was thinking of it, her anger building, and her sense of shame as the whip bit into her quivering buttocks, she was going to take riding lessons. A horse, especially a good one, and her mare was superb, shouldn't need more correction than a slight pressure of the knees. She was going to dispense with the quirt, unless her husband and she wished to use it in their games.
She wished her husband were here. It would give her a sense of comfort to know that her husband, her equal-no, what was she thinking? Her superior! It would be nice to know that he shared her kinky sexual customs. But there was hope for him yet.
Serena pulled for what seemed an eternity, feeling the bite of the whip on her white ass.
She hated these beasts. How dare they! And she blushed a deeper crimson when she thought how she had been betrayed by Marie, Marie with whom she had made love, with whom she had been intimate. Her position in her own household of dignity and authority was gone now, and she was a craven thing, a toy, a beast of burden, prone and crawling along a hard, cutting stone floor, bearing the weight of her own servants whom she was pulling.
The leather harnessing was biting into her flesh. The crupper and breeching, where they met on her backside, were rubbing her skin raw. Each move forward of her arms and legs caused an ache or a pain somewhere. She felt that she would not have one inch of flesh whole at the end of the evening.
Around and around the room she crawled, pulling the wagon, with its obscene passengers, feeling the ghosts of the family pointing at her, laughing, laughing the way the passengers in the runabout were laughing at her.
And her tears flowed, silent and unchecked down her blushing, humiliated cheeks, as she pulled for what seemed to be an eternity. Marvin flayed her mercilessly, yelling at her to speed her up. Serena's knees were cut and bleeding from the pressure of digging into the stone floor, to gain some leverage to pull the runabout, and the palms of her hands were also red and raw from pressing and sliding against the cruel, unyielding stone.
Serena let out a wild shriek of pain, as she felt the reins pull her up short, her head being flung back, the sides of her mouth a center of excruciating pain. Marvin had halted his beast of burden.
She started as she felt something digging at her exposed pussy. "The little mare enjoyed her drive," she heard Marvin's voice husk, and she realized that Marvin was tickling her creaming pussy with the tip of the whip.
Her face almost burned away from the heat of her blushing. Of course, through the pain and the humiliation, her perverse sexuality had told its tale by causing her pussy to cream. And there was no way that Serena could hide it. In her horsey position, her twat was wide open to the prying gaze of the passengers in the runabout.
She heard Marie's voice, sultry, caressing. "That little mare can be ridden in more ways than one, Marvin."
And then she heard, with growing shock and wonderment in her voice, the soft, quiet, passive voice of Martha, now glowing with a vibrance she had never even suspected in the bland, sweet-tempered, steady woman.
"I think she should be tamed, Marvin. And I'd like to see you do it. You're the best horseman I've ever met."
Serena heard the insinuating laughter of the three, Marvin's deep-throated peeling rising above the lighter laughter of the women. She felt the cart jiggle, which caused her to wince with pain, as the jolting caused the leather harnessing to bite deeper into her already deeply abused and braded flesh.
"Well, then, let's see what we can do to inject some life into the bag of bones," she heard Marvin's voice growl. She jumped as she felt rough hands grab her ass cheeks, waving so high and exposed.
No, she thought to herself, not another ass-fucking. Once is enough, especially since her husband had been so big that he had really hurt her, and her ass was still throbbing from the brutal mauling it had received from her husband's pleasure pole.
She knew that Marvin was between the traces, and then she felt his cock, hot and throbbing, rubbing up and down her ass crack. She held her breath. In her mind she willed him to find her pussy. At least that was lubricated and therefore not as sore as her ass.
She waited a long, suspenseful minute that felt like eternity, as Marvin's powerful hands roamed over her body. She jumped at every new area of flesh he touched, waiting for the violence to descend, waiting for the pinch, or the slap she was sure to follow.
But instead, Marvin's hands were light, and caressing on her back, tracing the line of the checkrein which held her head erect, and running across the crupper, pausing to wiggle a finger slightly into her ass crack, and then around to caress her belly, now gouged red where the girth bound her. She felt his finger wiggle into her belly button, and as he did that, she felt her pussy cream even more.
Then Marvin's powerful, stiff prick wended its way down her ass crack until it was pressed against the opening of her pussy. Serena almost swooned when she felt the vital, throbbing head pressed to the opening of her suppurating womanhood.
She wanted it. For all her humiliation, in spite of the degrading position she found herself in, she wanted to have the breath fucked out of her by Marvin. And her pussy started pouring cream copiously.
Marvin felt it around the tip of his cock, as he waited one breathless moment before plunging home with a great cry.
"Yeahhhhh!"
Serena screamed with the exquisite agony and ecstasy of that wild plunge, which spread her womanhood wide open. His invading man-hammer plowed a straight course upward, and didn't stop until his mushroom-shaped head was planted deep into the most secret recesses of her flayed and humiliated womanhood. Never in her heyday, had Serena been so used, so humiliated, and the knowledge of the use to which she was submitting, not entirely against her will, created an enormous conflict in her, a tug-of-war between the pleasure and the pain of it all.
She moaned as Marvin started sawing in and out of her pussy with sure, long strokes, deep-fucking her with a strength and steady rhythm that sent Serena climbing higher toward another orgasm. At this point, she had lost sight of the orgasms she had had. She felt that the whole day had been one huge climax, with her blindly, furiously, mindlessly, seeking only her sexual pleasure.
She had indeed become an animal. She thought of her husband, sleeping quietly and soundly in her bed upstairs, thought of her position in the household, which would never be the same again, and she wanted to hide her head in shame, as she gave herself up to the glory of Marvin's fucking, willing her pleasure to mount, willing herself open, to ease the passage of Marvin's huge mauler in and out of her creaming twat.
She wiggled her ass against Marvin's grinding groin, feeling his thighs, as he knelt between the traces, taking her wildly, savagely, in the presence of the two other women, rubbing against her inner thighs. Marvin's hands were still roaming around her belly, up to her breasts, hanging pendulously down where they escaped from the breast collar. She felt his rough hands pinching her nipples, not brutally, but just hard enough to increase her pleasure, as the small little shooting needles of pain from her tweaked nipples shot through her body, and landed in a growing puddle of warmth in her belly.
She arched her hips backward into Marvin's glorious body, and surrendered completely, mindlessly, to his fucking.
Each thrust of his cock sent another spiral of pleasure through her body, until she was bathed in sweat and gasping as the heat burned up her oxygen supply. Behind her closed eyelids, colors were growing wild, greens and blues, and oranges and reds.
She felt her stomach lurch against her sternum, felt it flip itself inside out, felt the slight wave of nausea, so fleeting that it was only noticed after the fact, and then she came. She felt the sticky spring of her pussy cream pouring in great, stringy cascades around Marvin's demanding dork, as he plowed in and out of her with a rhythm that didn't vary at all.
She felt Marvin's hands check the wild, gyrating motions of her hips. No, she thought, I want to come. I want to come now. I can't stand it.
"N-N-Noooo, don't. Let me come. I need to come," she husked, as Marvin pinned her hips, preventing her from humping herself to her orgasm.
"You will come when I want, little mare, and not before. In the meantime, enjoy the sweet torture."
"No!" she bellowed, enraged. After all the tension from the pain and humiliation they had put her through, she felt she deserved an orgasm, wanted one so badly, that her pussy ached with a screaming ache.
Marvin's cock did not increase at all, and Serena hovered, maddeningly at the edge of the precipice of pleasure, wanting to throw herself over.
It was Marvin's contention, that instead of hurtling over in one quick, violent motion, that she was going to float over, feeling the peak of her pleasure peak even more. He was dangling her there, her heart beating, her stomach throbbing, her pussy creaming in great, warm gushes of sticky woman-juice over the steady-fucking prick.
Marvin was now bent completely over her back, his hands braced on either side of her quaking, taut body. She could feel his warm breath husking in her ear, sending maddening shivers of pleasure and excitement down her already sex-bloated body.
And still his body humped into hers, in slow motion, as slow as she was coming. She shrieked in anguish, and then gasped in husking, shallow little gasps, as Marvin's merciless dong plowed its slow and sensuous rhythm in and out of her pussy.
Her orgasm started with heavy, maddening little jerks at first, which built slowly. She felt as if she were floating in slow motion, and that her orgasm was suspended in air or water in her belly, stuffed to overflowing with Marvin's massive dong.
Her throat was even coming, and she felt the queer, deep-throated grunts which started pumping out of her throat, against her will. Her sex sweat was pouring freely, and drying on her skin rapidly, which only intensified the sharp, almost painful ecstasy that was running sharply through her. And still Marvin held her hips still, still his dong plowed slowly in and out of her twat, until a howl was wrenched from her throat, as she felt the contractions increase in speed, building slowly at first and then getting faster, until her body was a frenzied picture of spastic delight. Then, and only then, Marvin released her hips, which, out of the rational control of Serena's mind, ground heavily and erratically against Marvin's hips. Marvin slammed home, as deeply as he could one more time, and then knelt, still, pressed into Serena's pussy gone mad.
And her pussy had indeed gone mad. She was creaming and gyrating and blind with the lust that had taken possession of her body. And her howl went on and on and on, as she came and came and came, tears pouring from her eyes as freely as the sweat poured from her body, covering her skin with a gleaming wetness.
And then she fainted, heavily, her last spasm mixed with the pain of the biting leather harness.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Serena came to slowly, first sensing the buzz Of voices in her ears, and then feeling herself pressed heavily into a soft white mattress. She groaned, and felt her head rolling from side to side, pressing into the soft white pillows against which she was lying.
Then her nostrils were assailed with an acrid odor, and she felt the familiar bite of brandy against her lips.
With her eyes still closed, and her brain still misty, remembering the violence of the orgasm, she drank deeply of the brandy, feeling it burn .on its way down her gullet to her still quaking stomach.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and as her vision cleared she saw revealed, the gleaming body of Marvin, and gazed at his face, smiling sensuously down on her. The brandy gleamed gold in the dim light, and she realized she was in some kind of enclosure. It was brown and red, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she gasped. She was in the coach, and she was resting against the generous, soft body of Martha. Sitting opposite her, beside Marvin, was Marie. They were all nude, divested of the leather. Mane was smiling.
"What do you think of the whip, cherie?" she purred, pouring some brandy from a decanter into a glass in her hand. She handed the glass to Martha.
"Ohhh...." sighed Serena. "I have no words...."
"You don't need any, darling," said Martha, hugging her closer against her gorgeous, massive boobs. "We know-we all know the leather kiss of our master."
"I can't believe it," husked Serena, struggling to a sitting position. Marvin handed her the glass, and Serena drank again, deeply.
Serena felt the masculine, hot bite of the brandy in her throat, clearing her brain, as the vapors rose through her body, warming her, turning her liquid.
She could feel her cunt, slightly sore, and still quivering with the exercise it had received. She creamed again, looking at the flawless body of Marvin.
She still desired him.
And she still desired her husband.
She would like to have them both together, one up her ass, and the other up her cunt. The battle going on in her rapidly clearing brain was, which one did she want where? She supposed it didn't matter, and a lewd grin plastered itself on her face, as she thought of the possibilities.
What fascinated her even more, however, was how deceiving appearances were. How could she not have suspected that Marvin and Martha....
Well, how could she know?
She suddenly wondered, as she thought of all the hours she spent stifling yawns among her apparently boring friends, just what went on beneath the cordiality, the formula greetings, the ritual conversations, the formulas for each and every process of life.
She couldn't know!
Not in a million years!
"How long has this been going on?"
Marvin smiled. "For as long as we have been i in your employ. Martha and I-we are close familiars with the pleasure of pain."
"And we knew," added Martha, "that you, too, had made its acquaintance. There was just something about you. Of course, we wanted you to join us. However, we were not sure why you had given up your pleasure, and therefore, we were cautious. It wasn't until Marie told us about your afternoon, that we decided to initiate you into our rituals."
Marvin smiled again, reaching over with his finger, and flicking away a stray strand of hair, which had got caught in Serena's moist mouth.
"Of course, I had desired you for as long as I have been here, but would not think of forcing myself on you, or re-introducing you to pleasures, which you, perhaps, had best forget."
Serena smiled, as Marie lit two cigarettes and handed Serena one. Serena dragged deeply on it.
"Well, murder will out, and it certainly has tonight. I am replete, and to think I will not have to travel far for my pleasures. I have been plotting and planning to get back into my crazy world for a long time."
"And, cherie, it was right under your nose."
"Yes, except...."
"What is that?" asked Marie.
"Well, my husband."
Marvin laughed, his velvety, sultry laugh. "From what I heard tonight, I don't think we would have too much trouble involving your husband. I am surprised. I had a suspicion that there was more to him than met the eye, but I wasn't quite sure what the latent element was."
Serena grinned a silly-assed grin. "Honey, I've lived with him for ten years, and I didn't know. I think you can be forgiven for your ignorance. Now, all I want is to get this out in the open, that is, in terms of my husband, and carry on. My life has been too dull, and too sweet for too long."
They all finished their brandy, and left the coach room, cleaning it up carefully after them-it still smelled of sex-and locking the door carefully. Then they retired. As they came into the kitchen, Serena realized with a shock that it was dawn.
It was time to do her husband in for the morning. For this one morning, since she felt James really needed her, she would forego the health club. She bounded up the stairs easily, wincing happily at the bruises and the pleasurable aches and pains. As she came into the bedroom, her eyes eagerly sought out the sleeping form of her husband.
She gasped. He was no longer in her bed. She ran wildly to his room, seeking him there. His room was empty. Serena's heart was pumping wildly in her bosom now, as a blind fear rose in her. Had he been so shocked at his behavior, or her response, that he had left her.
No, that couldn't be, not now that she had re-discovered him. She didn't think she could live without him. She rushed to the bathroom, to see if he were there, and he was, in the shower.
He was singing. She crept up to the shower stall, and then crept in with him. James stopped singing.
He was looking at her in the gray morning light.
"Christ! What a mess I made of you," he said, concern written all over his face, as he bit his lip and looked at her.
Serena merely smiled, and cuddled up to him, under the warm spray. "And I loved every minute of it, she said, reaching up to plant a kiss on his tight mouth. At first he didn't respond, but then his mouth relaxed, became fuller, and before long, his tongue was snaking into her mouth, teasing the tip of her tongue, which hung in her mouth, letting him play with it.
"Shhhhh...." said Serena, putting one finger up to her husband's lips. "You're welcome-any time you've an urge. I loved it, and it took some doing to get you mad enough to want to play rough with me."
"You mean you liked it?"
"I told you, I loved it."
James stared at her, wide-eyed. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered. "To think I traveled to get what I thought was spicy sex, and all the time it was here, lurking in my own home, and wilder than anything I've ever known." James whistled, picked up the face cloth, and proceeded to wash his wife's much-abused back. They stood under the shower until Serena, her body pressed tight against her husband's, felt his cock rising again, pressing against her thighs.
She looked at him, a whole world of meaning in her eyes, a meaning which her husband understood. He led her, dripping and warm from the bathtub, and made love to her-gently this time. Serena's bruised body couldn't have taken any more abuse, and both of them were satiated with the one kinky kind of pleasure, for the moment.
They lay quietly side by side, in an after-fuck glow, talking.
"And I want you to leave that door off its hinges," Serena was saying, holding her husband's warm, sweating hand.
She turned on her side, and leaned up on one elbow. "As a matter-of-fact, darling...."
"Never mind the door, said James, smiling at her. "I personally hate the convention of separate beds. I vote we sleep together from now on."
Serena smiled down at him. "Yesss...." she said, pressing her body into his.
The bell rang for breakfast.
Serena sat up, and stretched. "Ho-hum," she sighed.
She squealed as she felt her husband's fingers, pinching her behind. "Not any more, sweetheart, not any more!"
"We fell," said Serena and James together. They were fending off the questioning of their offspring.
And Serena was finishing the statement in her mind with "madly in love with my husband of ten years...."
James finished in his mind with, "madly in love all over again with the wildcat I married...."
"Oh...." said Leticia, looking at her mother's black eye.
"Does it hurt, and were you brave?" James Jr. husked, staring at the welts on his father's cheek, caused by his mother's hands.
"No, son, not really. It wasn't a bad fall at all." He looked over at his wife, and grinned.
Marvin came, fleet-footed and as correct as ever, into the room. Serena sat up straighter, feeling her pussy cream against the chair. And there was no difference in Marvin's correctness, his approach, his respectful deference as he poured coffee, and served the breakfast.
But there was a glow in his eye that titillated Serena.
That day, Serena and Marie spent long hours, plotting how to get her husband into their little clique, without abrading his sensibilities too grossly. During the discussion, Marie's Gallic eyes lit up, and she snapped her fingers.
"Oh, I know, I have the perfect...."
"What!" exclaimed Serena, excitedly. "Oh, I shall make it a surprise...." husked Marie.
"Like the whip? And am I not involved in this plot?"
"Oh, you are, you are! But I have a marvelous idea that will contribute to the pleasure of all of us."
Serena spent the next several days recuperating from the ravages of her perverse passion, wondering what Marie had in mind. And the nights were wonderful, locked in her husband's arms, waking to their shared warmth in the morning.
Every now and then, she caught Marie's eyes, twinkling mischievously at her. Her pussy twitched with the suspense, not to mention her mind.
That night, locked in her husband's embrace, Serena had thrown her legs around his waist, as his cock plowed in and out of her pussy. Their combined cream was dripping to the sheets, puddling there in a sticky mass which just added to the sensual pleasure to which they had surrendered themsleves.
The door between the two rooms had been put back in place, and nailed shut. The plan was to enlarge the room, and redecorate, but they hadn't yet decided on a color scheme, so the door, battered and splintered, just lay against its frame, loosely nailed in place.
Serena felt her husband stiffen, at the first splintering sound. Serena gasped, and tried to look over her husband's shoulder in the direction of the door, but her husband's protective instincts had forced her down into the mattress, while his body shielded hers against whatever assault was pending.
The door, already rickety, fell inward with a crash. Serena gasped again at the sight framed in the splintered frame. Marie, and Martha, and Marvin stood there, all of them attired in black leather, and all of them carrying bullwhips.
They strode in a body to the bed, and Marvin's powerful hands reached down, pulling James off his wife's body. James started to fight, bellowing at the three apparitions, but the two women made short order of him, binding his hands and feet behind his back.
Martha started to coo over James' cock, playing with it with her hands for a while, squeezing it, and pumping it.
"I want your wife, sir, and I'm going to have her now!"
With that statement, Marvin flung himself upon the still trembling Serena. Her pussy was already creaming copiously, and Marvin had no difficulty inserting his erect cock into her wet, warm womanhood. He thrust home with one violent thrust, and Serena's squeal of passion and pleasure was mixed with James's anguished cry.
"Noooo, you beeeaaassttt!" The two women were having difficulty holding him down, but they were keeping him flat. Martha reached down, still cooing over James's cock, and started sucking. James struggled violently, watching his wife raped violently by his trusted manservant, and then he felt the violating mouth of Martha on his cock. She sucked with determination, and all the anguish James had could not forestall the pleasure that was growing in his cock in spite of himself.
Marie had managed at one point to sit on his face. She proceeded to do so again.
"Eat out my asshole, you establishment prick!" she bellowed, her hand slamming the butt of the leather whip against his haunches, which had begun to hump up into Martha's sucking womb of a mouth.
"Oh, darling, I'm sorreeeee!" howled James, turning to his tortured wife. He noticed the look on her face was one of pleasure. He was relieved. He was feeling no mean ecstasy himself, and his guilty conscience was eased when he realized that his wife was feeling the same way.
He-wondered at his perversity. He still hadn't gotten over his reaction to his wife, his brutal mauling of her precious, much-loved body. Now he was watching his wife being raped by his manservant, and his cock jumped in Martha's mouth.
He knew he was going to come soon. He turned his attention to Marie's asshole, which was pouncing up and down over his face. He stuck a curious tongue out, and licked the brown puckered opening, which she had exposed, by holding her ass cheeks apart with her hands.
She had dropped her whip, but Martha had ' picked hers up, and was wielding it with evil power.
James was feeling strange, wild pleasure sensations coursing through his wracked body. He wondered, as he thought back on his own raping of his wife, if her feelings were similar to his.
And as he licked on Marie's brown puckered rectal opening, he had what he considered to be the most perverse thought of his normal, placid, quiet, comfortable life.
At that moment, raped by two women, and whipped by one, while the other sat on his head, he would have given his eye teeth to be a woman, just once, just for a little while.
He wanted desperately to feel what a woman felt when she came. He knew what he felt. But how could he please a woman if he didn't know what she felt?
It was one thing to know that his wife was pleased, but what could he have done better. He knew that two women knew exactly what to do to bring each other to the peak of pleasure. Maybe that's why men were attracted to lesbians, and to the idea of watching lesbian love-maybe they had a half-assed idea, without really formulating it in their minds, that they would learn what would drive a woman berserk, make her a man's sexual slave forever.
James, stimulated, kept licking Marie's ass with enthusiasm, which more than made up for her lack of aim, all over James's body, occasionally flicking it over to the supine, fucked form of Serena, as she was moaning in pre-orgasmic pleasure under the heaving, humping body of Marvin.
James came first. He tended to have a hair-trigger cock, which he more than compensated for by being able to get it up again and again and again. His endurance, Serena had discovered, was phenomenal.
Serena came shortly after James started, and she and Marvin came together.
It didn't take too much, after that session, to seduce James to the coach room. There was a hell of a lot more explaining to do to the kids the next morning, and a lot of silly-assed grins all around the ostensibly proper and normal table that couldn't be explained away by any means.
As James ate his breakfast, buried behind the Wall Street Journal, the only thing he could think about were the wild antics of his wild wife. His wife!
Never again, he thought, feeling his cock spring to attention in spite of the use it had been put to the night before, would he have to roam far from home for all the sex, in any form and in all varieties, that he wanted.
His buttocks ached from the lashing his wife had given him.
Serena, for her part, was grinning, and twitching in her seat, before her puzzled offspring, who knew something was going on, and weren't quite old enough to fathom it. Serena was thinking of the ass-fucking she had received from Marvin, while her husband reamed out her cunt, and Marie and Martha lashed the three rutting bodies to a frenzy that had caused them to come in frothy, wild, spastic waves, over and over again.
They were all happy. Serena was grateful that Marie had come to them, since it was she who had started the whole wonderful ball rolling. James was happy to have re-discovered his wife. Marie was happy because she had found her niche in life, in a kinky household that would provide her with everything she would need in the way of entertainment.
Marvin and Martha, well, they just winked at each other. Of all of them, they were the wisest, and the humpiest, and the kinkiest.
They knew what made the world go round, and they knew what made a happy household. They, too, found themselves well-placed, and without the need to hide their perverse pursuits any longer.
And so the morning began for the Caruthers' family. The sound of clinking Towle silverware, against Royal Dalton China, interspersed with water pouring into Venetian crystal was muted in Serena's mind. As she absent-mindedly sipped her ever-full (thanks to the attentive and beaming Marvin's attention) coffee, all she could hear was the sound of her husband's grunts as she whipped his gorgeous ass red with the black leather belt borrowed from Marie.
Marie and she had planned a trip today. They were going into town, to a particularly sleazy section of it, to pick up some leather supplies. Serena and James had had a lot of fun, and some fucking action in the bathroom, as they measured each other for the requisite materials.
Serena was creaming in her pussy as she saw her husband's cock rise to full mast, its throbbing growth encouraged by her whipping. The visions passing before her eyes, as she looked at her husband, momentarily hidden behind the Wall Street Journal, (but for a change, not completely buried in it), were positively obscene for a breakfast table on a bright, sunny morning, with such a family!
Instead of yawning, Serena was grinning. Her eye caught Marie's eye, and she remembered, instead of the properly dressed, very precise French governess, the tigress who had fought her bitterly for her husband's cock the night before. Serena had won, but she knew that wouldn't always be the case. She knew there were going to be times when she lost, and even the losing would be pleasure.
Serena twitched in her seat, remembering how her husband and Marvin had plowed her out. That had been a mind-blower, but with class! Serena had got a lot of her kicks on the shabby side of town. This was having your cake and eating it, too, which is exactly what Serena had set out to do, and usually manged to accomplish. She had her husband, and he loved her. She had her children, and they were really turning into persons who interested her, and she had the old Serena, the flamboyant, wild, gorgeous, exotic creature James had married, and promptly lost to social mores and dull propriety.
Propriety now would be simply a waiting game, a temporizing action before they all descended to the cellar, and that fantastic coach room.
Serena and James had been chained to the large Family Coach last evening, the one with the family coat of arms. Serena hid a blush when she remembered the humiliation of her and James, the heads of this distingished household, bound to their own family conveyance, and whipped by their servants unmercifully around and around the large, dark room, feeling the lash against their naked buttocks.
But it had been a moment of extreme closeness for husband and wife such as they had never experienced before. To be together in their shame, their debasement, was more of a thrill than standing together, bored, at a cocktail party, saying all the right things, and looking just so. Serena remembered how her husband's eyes had glowed, and how his cock just never seemed to lose its tumescent state that night.
And she knew there was more to come. As the barriers broke down, that there would be more to explore in the way of their sexual nature. She felt the pressure of a warm body against hers through the latticed, teakwood chair against which she was leaning, absent-mindedly. She started, and turned slightly to her right.
It was Marvin. There was a strange gleam in his eye, as he poured some more coffee into her cup. "Would Madame care to see the repairs made on the Master Bedroom? The plasterers have finished."
Serena rose. "Excuse me. I shall be right down. Do you want to come too, James?"
"Hmmm, what darling?" asked her husband, looking up with full attention, from his journal, his eyes roaming over his wife's gorgeous body.
