Sitting there in the plush office of his exclusive dramatic school, Richard Kingsley was truly in his glory. This was going to be sheer Heaven for him. He was imminently about to spank a pretty young girl's bare bottom for her, and this one was on the Ann Margaret type-a younger edition of the famous movie and TV starlet.
It always effected him this way ever since he was thirteen and first developed this spanking-fixation of his. Even though he was in his early forties and had spanked more pretty girls by now than he could actually recall, still, Dick Kingsley never grew jaded. Rather, each and every time prior to the actual spanking-ritual, he felt the same old glow of excitement kindle him in anew-as if he had never spanked a pretty girl before, and this was the very first time-and/or like an alcoholic who had long been on the wagon and was about to have his very first drink after months of continuous abstinence.
Dick felt his heart thump like a steam-engine, his pulse skip and race, and his palms and underneath his armpits all clammy with perspiration. To camouflage his true inner state of turbulent emotions from the girl who was standing there obediently before him, awaiting his orders, Dick shifted his weight and swung around in the swivel-chair behind his large ornate desk, thrusting his left knee up against a closed drawer along the side of the desk to maintain his proper balance. As he did so, he took several thoughtful, meditative puffs on his pipe and once again scrutinized the delightfully young, curvy creature standing there before him in a single sweeping glance: Her name was Jeanie Barton. She was just nineteen and an aspirant young actress. Jeanie was a natural redhead, her coiffure being a dark shade of auburn. She had bronze-flecked, radiant pools for eyes to match her color hair, and pert, somewhat capricious but most sensuous features. She was inclined to be built sinewy and supple, being surprisingly tall even though she looked short from a distance, but had all of the rounded, firm curves in all of the right strategic places, particularly at her lilting bottom and upthrust gourds for breasts.
The ensemble she was wearing was typical for a teen-age girl of today, consisting of just a pullover bright red sweater, a checked plaid mini skirt and black boots. But the boots served to encase and accentuate her streamlines, curvy legs in all of their taffy-golden splendor, indicative of many prolonged and meticulous sun-tan treatments on public beaches in the Summertime. She was also wearing gleaming black nylon panty-briefs underneath the mini-skirt which hugged her rounded hips and tapered thighs: Yes, Dick concluded silently to himself, she was the spitting-image of Ann Margaret, all right-a young and effervescent edition of the sexy starlet when she first started out and enticed the Hollywood moguls with that sensational dance she did on the annual Academy Awards show, which won her the attention she was seeking and soon sky-rocketed her to fame as a big movie starlet.
If Dick Kingsley had been excited before, having such thoughts made him really wild now. His big cock was urging forward, pressing through his shorts inside his pants, and was becoming so big and hard, that he wouldn't have been surprised if it jumped out of his pants altogether.
Not wanting Jeanie to see this for anything or else the whole ritual might be ruined, Dick curled more of his frame down and up, placing both knees up in the side drawer of his desk for leverage now, taking several more seemingly meditative drags on his pipe: For a fraction of a moment, he would have sworn that he could discern a naughty, impudent, knowing expression crease Jeanie's pert countenance. It lingered for a second then was gone, as she said to him aloud, coolly and even indifferently: "You sent for me, Mr. Kingsley, Sir?"
"Yes, Jeanie, my dear. I did."
"Oh?" she feigned at acting surprised. "What about?"
"The way you've been performing in the school-play."
"But I've been reading all of my lines correctly," she ventured a light protest.
"To be . sure, my dear," Dick purred smoothly. "Actually, I wouldn't care if you fumbled a line here and there; that could be easily rectified. "But... " he broke off and smiled significantly at this conjecture.
"'But,' " she reiterated impatiently, "what is it you... find I've been... doing wrong?"
"You've been reading your lines completely by rote. Your latest performances have been ever more and more dull and completely uninspired. And that will not do-will not do at all!"
"I see-eee," she mused aloud. "So?" she prodded him on.
"Now you know the conditional contract you had to sign as a direct prerequisite to joining this particular school. Or perhaps it is necessary for me to... errr... refresh your memory, my dear?" he ended on a lightly mirthful rhetorical note.
"No-ooo. I remember, Mr. Kingsley, Sir-remember quite well-since you took all of that trouble to point it out to me and even underscore it: In essence, it said, that I am over eighteen years of age, making me a consenting adult. And the method of this particular school requires certain... disciplinary measures if a young actor or actress doesn't perform correctly, or according to the satisfaction of those in charge."
"Precisely, my dear," Dick all but yelped on a jubilant note: This was going to be easier than he had figured!
"And strictly speaking, said disciplinary measures are spankings on the bare ramp by you," she exclaimed sarcastically and even cynically.
"Precisely correct again, my dear," Dick yelped more jubilantly than ever.
"This constitutes proper... punishment, I gather," Jeanie was more bitter and outspoken than ever.
"No-ooo. I'm afraid you're wrong, my dear."
"Oh? How is that?"
"Sit down, won't you? then I'll tell you:" You won't be able to do that for very long-sit down properly! Dick reflected, bluntly and quite happily. Just a mere matter of time now until your lovely little bottom is a virtual cauldron of fire, he added silently to himself, underscoring his rapture, so that his enormous dick grew larger than ever and threatened to pop off instantaneously with the slightest-amount of friction if he wasn't extra careful. And that wouldn't do-wouldn't do at all.
"Oh, very well," Jeanie replied after hesitating, permitting him the brief interim for him to think, but now breaking in and .interviewing on his thoughts, as lovely Jeanie went about taking her seat in a chair placed directly alongside his large ornate desk: She slowly and leisurely crossed her enticing streamlines legs, one taffy-golden gam placed on top of the other one, thereby accentuating the fullness of their sleek, curvaceous symmetry and making the perturbing kneecaps become rounded out and most delectable: Yes, Jeanie Barton was just the way Dick Kingsley liked his potential spanking-victim to be-pretty and sexy, yet with a certain standoffishness in her attitude being prevalent, along with a corresponding sassiness. And, by the very same token, he preferred them to be sinewy, supple and firm, as opposed to some relatively big, fat acquiescent slob-the latter, seemingly being the preference for most other men who had a spanking-fixation such as he did.
Jeanie now fumbled for a cigarette in her pack and placed it between her thin rose-petals for lips. Dick leaned across the desk and lit it for her with his fancy tooled desk-lighter.
After she exhaled two billowing gusts of smoke and Dick felt that she was completely settled, still eyeing her gorgeous gams surreptitiously, he resumed where he left off, deliberately assuming the role of the patient pedant: "Now then, my dear, to properly resume: We don't punish around here; this isn't a school for delinquent children. Rather, we use this seemingly crude and most unorthodox measure to correct a pupil if and when it is deemed necessary."
"Explain this to me please, Mr. Kingley. I don't quite... grasp what you... me-eeaan."
"Gladly, my dear... In the general sense, the stock and trade of any actor or actress is the ability to use and project his or her emotions in a given role."
"Agreed, Mr. Kingsley. So?"
"Now, this contention is particularly so with a budding young lady, since a female is, by her very physiological nature, devoutly Masochistic. So, in order to properly bring out her... errr... inherent ability, we, around here, resort to spanking occasionally."
"You mean, you do, Mr. Kingsley," she hastened to correct him, then tittered nervously and stuck out the tip of her tongue at him impudently: That will be ten more scorching cracks on each bare cheek! he reflected grimly. Then he resumed elaborating on the hypothesis he had laid down: "Very well, I do," he hastened to correct himself to get it out of the way and not be hung up on a meaningless bickering tangent with her. "However, it shouldn't be construed as a punitive measure at all. Rather, it's comparable to, say, when a person has a terrific tooth-ache and goes to his dentist. The dentist finds a very large and deep cavity, near the nerve of the tooth, necessitating a lot of painful drilling. So, to draw the parallel, the patient puts up with the pain, because he realizes that it will be beneficial to him in the long run; it is truly the lesser of evils."
"I see-eee," Jeanie mused in that characteristic manner of hers, blowing smoke through the nostrils of her nose like a pretty little dragon, "Go on. Anything else?"
"Yes, my dear, there is. You've heard of the slang expression 'wood shedding,' I'm sure."
"Yes, I have. Precisely what does it mean?"
"Well, to go to a woodshed classically meant that a child was about to be spanked, usually in some rural section of the country, and in a wooden building actually suitable for that specific purpose. As the expression became popular, it just meant that a child who was naughty was about to be spanked in any part of the country whatsoever, and in any room."
"I see-eee," Jeanie mused again. "And, what does the expression mean here in the theater?"
"It's actual derivation means sweating and doing hard work-endless and tedious rehearsals. So I, merely carrying it one step further-or rather backward, whichever you prefer, my dear-to its more literal meaning."
"To suit your own nefarious purpose, of course," Jeanie said sweetly.
"Oh? How is that, my dear?"
"To give you both the good excuse and opportunity to spank pretty young girls' bottoms for them whenever the whim seizes you, Mr. Kingsley."
"You're talking completely absurd now, my dear," he quickly countered.
"Am I, though? Am I, really?"
"Yes, you are."
"How is that, Mr. Kingsley? Prove to me otherwise?" she challenged.
"It might interest you to know that Brigitte Bardot was originally trained this way by Roger Vadim. And the late Sharon Tate was trained likewise by Romain Polanski."
"You mean, they actually spanked them?"
"This, I am not sure of, my dear," Dick replied sincerely. "However, Brigitte Bardot had her face slapped resoundingly in a number of her early pictures, usually at the climax. And Sharon Tate was spanked on her bare bottom in two cheap horror pictures made in Europe, although the spanking scenes were deleted when the films were shown here in America. However, that's completely beside the point."
"What is 'the point,' then, Mr. Kingsley?"
"That both girls were deliberately trained to take physical punishment and actually conditioned to enjoy it, so that their personalities carries through to the males in the audience as: 'I am a complete wicked and brazen little bitch. I'll be as naughty as I please and as wicked as it suits me. All that you can do is to slap me around-either on the top cheeks of my face, or on the lower ones of my lilting behind. Yes, that's all you can do in retaliation, and, I'll love it. Just try me and see."
"A very interesting theory, Mr. Kingsley," Jeanie all but gasped in obvious admiration. "Do you think it was strictly this factor which made them such big stars and sex-sirens?"
"Well, I wouldn't go quite that far, my dear, but it certainly helped and contributed."
"And you're implying that it will help make me a big star as well?" Jeanie prodded him further."
"No, there are too many other factors involved. But it will also certainly contribute."
"Hmmm, very interesting-very interesting, indeed. You're quite a good salesman, Mr. Kingsley."
"Am I? Really, I wasn't aware of having that particular talent.
"Well, you have. You've all but got me sold too-except for one thing... "
"What's that, my dear?"
"All the other girls you've spanked! Why, there's hardly a one who is registered at this school who hasn't already got her saucy bum whaled by you. So, do you mean to tell me, Mr. Kingsley, that you intend to make Brigitte Bardots and Sharon Tates out of all of them?" she ended on a most scornful rhetorical note.
"Truthfully, my dear, it is not my intention to make sex-sirens, pure and simple, out of any of them. Our qualifications at this school are quite rigid, and any girl who is lucky enough to be accepted by us, is trained to become a first-rate actress in the theater-that, and nothing else.
What that leads to later, is something else and not our primary concern. I was merely drawing an analogy for you, because you seem to think that my method of training is so strange and alien to that of other teachers and directors."
"Frankly, I still do, Mr. Kingsley. I think you spank the girls because it gives you great pleasure in doing so."
"Well, you're entitled to your opinion, my dear," Dick replied haughtily, getting on his high horse. "In any event, I have a very long and hectic day scheduled for me. So which will it be? Do you take your first spanking here and now? Or do you instantly get expelled and dropped from this school?"
"You mean, I actually have a choice-am given an alternative?" Jeanie feigned incredulity.
"Yes, you do. Although you signed an agreement permitting me to do as I please and even force you if I so desire, that is not my inclination and spirit-never has and never will be. I believe in freedom of choice. So exactly which alternative do you choose, my dear?" Dick had all he could do to keep the tenseness and impatience out of his voice.
Jeanie Barton seemed to deliberate for several rapt moments, which seemed more like maddening hours to Dick. Finally, she rendered her decision aloud: "Oh, very well, I'll take your spanking."
"You realize it is going to be quite severe, my dear?"
"How severe?"
"Eighty cracks on your bare skin, to be divided in two equal parts of forty each. In-between, you will have to sit on a hard wood chair for a full half hour, after catching the first forty, to wait for the second half of your tanning. So, is that agreeable to you, my dear?"
"Strictly by hand?"
"Yes."
"How many spanks do you usually give the others girls for one session in the good old woodshed, Mr. Kingsley."
"Oh, that all depends, my dear. Anywhere from fifty, minimum, to eighty, maximum, but usually sixty to eighty."
"I see-eee," Jeanie mused, puckering her lips and pouting demurely. "Well, if they can take it, so can I," she declared, seeming to make up her mind decisively.
"That's your final decision, my dear?"
"Yes!"
"So be it, then. Very well, let's go over to the couch and proceed with it."
"Yes, Master."
They both then got to their feet with Dick walking ahead of her, to bolt the door of the sound-proof room, so that they wouldn't be disturbed. When this was done, he sauntered over to where Jeanie was standing, in front of the couch, her hands placed on her hips with her left leg bent daintily in front of her, having assumed a classical feminine pose, and Dick could feel his libido really soar and roar!
It was a long, oblong-shaped room, this being the main office of the suite, with plush, thick, simulated ermine-white wall-to-wall carpeting. There were burgundy-colored drapes over the large bay windows located directly in back of the large ornate desk. In the furthest corner near the front door was the couch, which, strictly speaking was a convertible sofa; there was a matching pair of gilted mirrors, one in back of it, and the other directly across, on the other side of the room.
Next to the sofa was the kitchen. Across the way in the other far corner was an elegantly appointed bathroom. Underneath the other gilted mirror across the way from where they were located was a mahogany fireplace with a glowing ember from a rotating cylinder which actually seemed to give off psychedelic lights and sparks.
As he came over to where Jeanie was standing in her provocative pose, lie directed her aloud: "All right, Jeanie, my dear, raise your skirt and hold it up in your hands so that I can go about making the necessary... errrr... preparations."
"Must I?" she retorted, feigning naivete. "But I thought you were going to do it for me, Mighty Master-Big Daddy-O?"
"None of your lip-none of your sass, my dear," he all but snarled, "if you know what's good for you, that is.
"Yes, Mighty Master," she acquiesced meekly.
Then, saying that, she gripped the sides of her skirt at the hem with both hands and slowly raised it.
Dick's eyes nearly popped out of its sockets at what he saw-the rapt sight which greeted his eyes: She was wearing those gleaming black nylon-panty briefs as he had already observed, but now that they came into full view, he could see that they were of bikini-dimensions, so that the lower portions of the spheres of her most succulent ass protruded from the sheer, tautened piece of underwear which clung to the top portion as if it were an additional layer of skin. Jeanie deliberately moved around a bit, so that the two spheres lilted, accentuating the jagged dimple in each lush cheek of creamy, ivory-hued flesh.
Dick nearly popped his nuts as he grasped the elastic-band on both sides of the panties with trembling fingers, pulled them outward, then slid the entire skimpy panties down. As he did so, the palms of his hands glided along the rounded, firm cheeks and tapered thighs, feeling like tepid, sculptured marble to the touch-svelte, sleek and utterly irresistible: Yes, this one was just the way he liked them to be, all right, he observed.
He took her by the arm, sitting himself down at the middle of the sofa, and gently pulled her toward him. She naturally fell face-downward as he gave the arm a gentle twist. He caught her in the crook of his already awaiting, extended lap, brought her further in and solidified her inside of it, so that she wouldn't be able to roll off from her anticipated threshing and squirming once he got started whacking away.
Dick took time-out to carefully roll the lowered panties, draping them as far down her thighs as they only would go, thereby making her bared provocative rump automatically that more upthrust and inviting.
Dick gasped at the delightful image which greeted his eyes: It wasn't only the bared behind in all of its fullness and lushness, but the total image of the raised mini-skirt, the lowered panty-briefs, against the upthrust behind and sleek, smooth marble thighs, then the resplendent gleaming, taffy-golden hue of the rest of the streamlined gams directly beneath it: The total effect was utterly incomprehensible and most devastating, and, for a moment, Dick forgot himself and became carried away, letting both his hands flop down on the cheeks, rubbing away to derive the full feeling of their firmness and bouncy resiliency which he was testing a priori.
Undoubtedly, he might have kept on feeling up Jeanie's lovely behind for moments longer, if she didn't intervene and utter scornfully: "Well, Big Daddy-O, it seems that I was right, after all: that you only use an excuse to spank pretty young girls' bare bottoms because you enjoy doing so and it gives you keen pleasure," she ended on a triumphant note.
"That's not true," Dick mumbled apologetically. "I was just getting properly... warmed up and the right range to do the whacking."
"A likely story, that!" she sneered cynically. "In any case, stop feeling up my behind and start whacking it. Let's get this ordeal over with, Big Daddy-O."
"Yes, my dear," Dick smirked back at her. "Your wish is my command, Princess."
With that, he gripped her firmly with his left hand digging into her side, then brought his right hand up in the air, taking careful and deliberate aim: He fired, snapping his wrist. There was the sound of a crisp slap as the hard, heavy bone of his palm dug into the bare flesh of her upthrust left mound. True to his expectancy, its firmness made it resilient in a totally delightful way.
"Ow," Jeanie squealed softly.
Dick took aim and fired again, on the other upthrust cheek this time, using the exact same velocity and force, also catching her in the middle of the meaty part of the mound.
"Ow," she squealed again.
Taking quick observation of his handiwork, he saw that all the fingers of his big, heavy, hard right hand had left their full imprints on each svelte cheek.
He kept whacking away like that, going from one cheek to the other, making sure that each smack caught Jeanie in a different area of her succulent upthrust behind, so that by the time he had given her his first designated volley of ten, her entire bottom was coated an even pink, and since the administered fire and pain hadn't been built up in any given concentrated area of the flesh, she continued to emit the same sort of "Ow" squeals after each and every one of them.
But with the next designated volley of ten, Dick really bore down on her, whacking away considerably harder and faster at her already even coated pink ass, but still going from one svelte, lush cheek over to the other, then back over again.
Dick really took delight as he could feel both spheres bounce off his palms continuously like two medicine-balls being tossed around on some public-beach. And analogously, her cries became more forlorn, the "Ows" being mingled with sobs at the end of them, which gave way to actual cries by the time he gave her the very last couple cracks of the designated volley. In conjunction with this, she began to thresh, toss and squirm, wiggling around on his lap and trying to roll off to escape the ever mounting, blistering fire from the sustained attack that had been inflicted upon her poor suffering rump: But to utterly no avail! He was holding her far too securely for any of her efforts to succeed.
Dick paused to survey his cruel handiwork, and was delighted to find that, by now, her entire bottom was coated an even, glistening crimson, with the two jagged dimples sticking out like two even brighter, redder scars from the curry mounds of flesh.
For the last few whacks of the volley, the flesh was growing intensely hot too, all but burning his hand to the very touch. So he now greedily licked his chops and surveyed the virginal-white creamy flesh beneath the ass itself-those tender arced-creases which acted as connecting-links between the behind and the thighs, then the sleek slabs that were the backs of the thighs themselves: For a perfect guideline was the taffy-golden hue to the streamlined legs, which started just where the virginal creamy white that was where the next designated spanking area ended.
All but drooling and foaming at the mouth like a mad dog now, Dick wound up and took deliberate aim. He only intended to give her ten spanks across there for now-five on each side-so to be really effective, he had to put all that he had into it, the full force and weight of his strong, powerfully muscled shoulder.
He let go with a terrific smash, catching Jeanie simultaneously across an arced-crease and a slab at once. It provoked her to scream shrilly, particularly because of the needling hot pain she felt to the arced-creases, which was, indeed,, the most tender and sensitive area of the entire spanking-periphery. Then she threshed and squirmed, frantically kicking her legs up and down.
Dick delivered another terrific smash-on the other side this time-with the exact same results.
He kept on whacking away, putting all that he had into it, By the time he had given her six spanks-three on each side-the entire area was a stark, livid sanguinary. So it was that the last four full smashes were truly a living Hell to her, making her scream like a hysterical woman, as she bucked like a bronco on his lap, pumping her legs up and down faster and harder than ever.
But now that he had her up to such a frenetic pitch, Dick didn't relinquish it. He returned from whence he had come-her already thoroughly hot, scarlet-red and blistered bottom-whaling away at her just as ferociously.
For the last ten of this ordeal, which was to mark the halfway-point of Jeanie Barton's total chastisement for this session, Dick rolled on the velocity and momentum he had worked up previously, and laid watch and every spank of the last ten on full-blast. Each time his hand descended, he could feel it sink all the way into the hot morass of the resilient rubbery mound-down to the very bone! Crack, crack, crack.
Over and back-again and again and again-utterly relentless and merciless, until the spanks had taken their grim toll and he had dished out the designated forty crack in their entirety.
Now that it was over, Dick was glad in a way, as his hand ached something awful and he let it drop limply to his side. For a fraction of a moment, he surveyed the total results of his handiwork and all but creamed when he saw the nice even crimson hue he had worked up on the behind, to and including the backs of the thighs, contrasting so delightfully with the taffy-golden hue beneath it. And he knew that if he kept gazing for just another moment, he would surely shoot in his pants. So he desisted: Instead, he picked Jeanie Barton up by grabbing her with both hands placed underneath her armpits, raised her bodily in mid-air and arose to his feet, dragging her over to a hard wooden chair which he had gotten from the auditorium, and placed her down on it with a hard, full little plop.
The harsh, abrupt contact to her tingling, blistering, most sensitive backside made Jeanie scream and thresh more wildly than ever. But she couldn't get away, as Dick had her clamped down and made her stay put by placing both hands on the tops of her shoulders: "Now you sit there, young lady and stay put while I grab a smoke. You'd better not move from there if you know what's good for you. And you can contemplate for the next half hour still a second, even harder session of what you've already received. I'll make an actress out of you, my dear, even if it kills you!" Dick avowed.
As if in answer to him, Jeanie wailed and yelped more shrilly than ever, wildly tossing and threshing around and about on the hard wooden seat. Her cheeks were puffy and swollen from the much crying she had done, as the tears of hurt streamed down from her radiant bronze-flecked eyes in running, streaming rivulets.
Dick then sat himself back down behind his own large ornate desk, lit up a fresh pipe for himself, then once he got it properly going, propped his feet up and relaxed, taking keen delight and enjoyment at watching her suffer in this, the terrible aftermath of the ordeal for her: In a way, it promised to be even more pleasurable than the inflicting of the spanking itself.
Then too, there was still the second torrid spanking on the agenda, which would surely be worse for her than the first one, as well as the possibility of doing other things, entirely dependent on her and the way she subsequently reacted.
Yes, Dick Kingsley was enjoying himself, all right-enjoying himself to the very hilt!
Feeling his hard-on grow bigger and fiercer than ever at this happy thought, before he popped off and blew the whole bit, Dick decided to go into a period of meditation about his past.
Since he had been going for psychoanalysis, such periods of introspection were quite frequent and common-place for him. And while he felt comparable to that classical Indian saint who contemplated his navel and took it for the map of the whole World at times, nevertheless there was also the fond hope that it might throw a new ray of light on that anal-sadistic fixation of his which he had been obsessed with for a period of more than thirty years now: In any event, it would surely kill the half hour interim of time he needed until he could have his go at luscious young Jeanie Barton again and blister and burn her sassy young ass some more.
Yes, Dick sighed on a philosophical-note, at least his contemplating would do that!...
CHAPTER TWO
It was the great Sigmund Freud who was clinically proven that Time and Space are utterly meaningless to the libido, particularly when one had a fixation stemming from the polymorphous-perverse stage of erogenetic-development; Freud clearly demonstrated this remarkable hypothesis in any number of his clinical-papers and theoretical works on Psychoanalysis.
But whereas, Freud clinically proved this contention, it was left to the genius of a Marcel Proust, particularly in his monumental work, Remembrance of Things Past, to put it into beautiful poetic-prose and literally dramatize it!
Now, Dick Kingsley, being a practicing member of the theater and hailing from a long-family tradition of the same, was a very well-read man. And while he found Freud a bit too cumbersome, deep and abstract for him, he really dug Proust and identified with the celebrated French author vicariously: Yes, he too found Time and Space to be utterly meaningless in terms of his own libido, particularly that anal-sadistic fixation of his: Dick had said spanking-fixation for well over thirty years now. Many was the time that he felt ashamed of himself for having it and let it play such a leading role in his life. He'd even view it as being silly, childish and downright ludicrous. So he'd vow to overcome it.
But just let him get a squint of some sexy young thing, such as a Jeanie Barton, and he would feel the old flame of excitement kindle in him anew, all over again-as if he had first desired to spank a sexy young creature only yesterday-and not well over thirty years ago!
Then, especially if the given girl who was his prospective victim was just the way he liked her to be-young, supple and sexy, yet sassy and bitchy, who was also haughty and proud, doing her very utmost to try and show he was not hurting her during the spanking-ordeal itself, but finally breaking down under the duress of the ever mounting fire being perpetrated on her bare rump-and Dick would be hooked: His cock would throb and surge inside of his pants, and nothing would matter but to get his hands on such a delectable creature. Everything else in his life would be completely meaningless and abstract-himself, hanging in a virtual' state of suspended-animation with the anal-sadistic fixation totally engulfing and overwhelming him and his entire personality.
However, many a time when it would be all over, in the immediate aftermath-such as now-Dick would feel despondent and sad, as well as acutely disgusted at himself. He would then intellectually rebel at having such a Fate, even though he also knew that on a deeper lever of his emotions and id, which were far more powerful and conservative in nature, there was virtually nothing he could really do about it: Yes, after the storm would come a calm for a time. It might even lie dormant for weeks and months, only to come surging to the fore with all of its old demonic fury when it became once again focused and channeled on a particularly alluring love-object.
Nevertheless, even with this realization, Dick, at the moment, was psychologically at one of his lowest ebbs: He felt thoroughly ashamed and disgusted with himself; he even hated himself at that very moment: If only there was some way for him to overcome this terrible fixation and hang-up of his.
Yes, if only there was.
Perhaps if he reviewed the entire development of his life, particularly in relation to his libido and the turbulent experiences he had, he would find some angle which he had overlooked before and lead him to the promised land of so-called normalcy.
Certainly, he had nothing else of importance to do at the moment, so it was worth the try. Then, even if it didn't really present anything fresh, by carefully reviewing it would provide him with a more glib familiarity as to the details of his life in scope and depth.
Of course, Dick had been over all of his developmental-material countless times before, but undoubtedly, if a person was to hear it for the very first time, (even a head-shrinker that Dick had gone to and confided in had just such a reaction) he would find it to be a horror story-a real sexual horror story, getting the total impression, on the basis of his revelations: that nothing else existed for him in this life but spanking pretty young girl's bottoms and having diverse kinds of perverted, depraved sex with them.
And indeed, to Dick Kingsley, that was the true horror of it all: NOTHING ELSE REALLY DID!...
Although Dick was in the theater and even a matinee-idol up until a few years ago at the zenith of his career and his family had a long-standing, proud, respected tradition in the theater, Dick hadn't been brought up as a Bohemian-swinger. Rather, his family background was most banal, trite and decisively middle-class.
Paradoxically, it was for precisely this reason that his own parents views and outlook on life were so ordinary. To them, having a career in the theater was a matter of course, and would be analogous to the attitude, say, that of parents where the father was a doctor would have, with his own father also having been a doctor as a direct predecessor before him.
Whereas, if a boy or girl emanating from the poor working-class suddenly got a break because of either unusual looks, talent or sheet dumb luck, this soaring to stardom would be a complete and abrupt break with the given teen-ager's own past. So if his or her parents were run-of-the-mill with their set of values, the teen-ager would naturally rebel, go out on a limb and be a real swinger.
So it was that aside from their tradition in the theater, Dick's parents were as ordinary middle-class as any dull, dreary, provincial family could ever be: As a small boy, they expected Dick to be clean and polite. Of course, being a boy, they allowed him a certain latitude in playing rough and getting himself somewhat dirty, but no more than that. If he was naughty and didn't properly behave himself, either one of his parents, according to who was the one who was being annoyed in a given context, would turn him across the lap, pull down his pants and shorts, and give him a little tingling paddy-whacking on his bare bottom. However, neither his father nor his mother ever spanked him severely-just enough to make the given lesson sink in to his tender brain and for his little behind to tingle and burn for awhile.
It was around the age of five that Dick first started to masturbate: At this tender age, he had the fantasies of bathing attractively young women and had a special fixation for their legs. This was due to his mother initially bathing him. And when he would reach a climax, instead of being able to shoot sperm such as he would do at puberty, he would feel a sharp little pain-sort of a shooting, needle-like series of spasmodic stabs-go through his throbbing little cock, and Dick became frightened; he surely though that he would die from it one day, bleeding to death.
It was precisely such a fear that his mother instilled in his tender young brain when she first caught him playing with himself. So he would refrain from doing so, until the next time that he saw a pretty young lady with an especially shapely pair of gams, and would jerk off once again, doing so by rubbing away on the mattress until he was made to come, indicated by the throbbing pulsations and the burning, shooting, needle-like stabs going through his tender young cock.
His mother spied on him more frequently once she found that he habitually jerked-off. And seeing that he still didn't desist, despite the terrible fears she had tried to instill in him, the middle-class mother from the old school became more grim and foreboding: "It will fall off on you if you don't stop, Dickie darling."
Then one time, figuring that one illustration was worth a thousand words, she came running in from the kitchen just as he was at the pinnacle of rubbing himself off with an especially provocative fantasy, and opened her hand for him to see the insides of a chicken that she had been in the process of cleaning out: "See, Dickie darling, this is what your little nookie will look like if you keep on playing with it all the time like you do!"
And, for once, this lesson on his childishly impressionable mind set in and he didn't jerk off again for many weeks. Then he saw an especially tall and leggy female, and was at it again, rationalizing his fears.
Catching him at it again after thwarting him for so many weeks with the rapt vision of the chicken-guts, his mother became really beside herself and threatened: "If you don't stop playing with yourself, Dick, I'm going to tell your father on you when he comes home, and hell surely cut it off for you."
At first, this threat had about as much impact as water would have on the average duck, until he happened to go to the bathroom one day and found his older sister, Harriet, in the process of taking a piss: He figured, that she must have had a penis once, but somebody had went and cut it off for her. Could it be his father? In any case, all that he could see remnant now was the jagged cuntal-slit surrounded by a bush of pubic-hair, and indeed, it did look like a fresh, open wound to him, and, for the very first time, his mother's threat took on definite significance!
It all became a bit hazy and vague, this particular train of free-association. But, as Dick went about piecing his life together in a relentless Gestalt-fashion, the fact that did emerge clearly was: that even though he was thwarted for a time, he resumed playing with himself after awhile. And now, his mother no longer paid it any heed. He recalled a conversation in this context with an aunt of his, who was also his mother's sister: The Aunt, whose first name was Fay, was married to a wealthy businessman and had just come back from a vacation in Miami Beach, Florida. She had a sun-tan that was as brown as a berry, and she had especially nice, curvy legs. So lying there in-between his aunt and mother on his mother's bed, little Dickie became carried away enough to rub against his aunt and try to get in-between those shapely legs of hers.
His Aunt Fay, who was, by nature, an anxiety-prone, hysterical sort of woman, became unduly alarmed and queried of Dick's mother: "Good Heavens, Emily, what's wrong with little Dick? What's he trying to do?"
And taking definite cognizance of what little Dick was busy "doing or trying to do, his mother had matter-of-factly replied: "Oh, that's nothing, Fay-nothing to really worry about. I asked Dr. Kronkite the last time he was here, and he said it was perfectly natural and normal for a boy of his age to want to do that."
"He did?" his Aunt Fay was utterly incredulous. "Well, as for myself, I still think it is terrible and he should be stopped from doing it."
However, his mother didn't try to stop him any longer, but permitted him to indulge himself whenever he wished to.
After all, the great God who was Dr. Kronkite had spoken, and the family doctor was truly the great God in any real middle-class family.
There was still another incident in this very connection, which Dick wouldn't forget as long as he lived: It concerned a lady-friend of his mother, who was also the anxiety-stricken type. She happened to have a young daughter, who must have been nine or ten at the time. Dick was sure that he was just five-and-a-half himself, having just started to go to the first grade of school.
They were in the living room, his mother and this woman leisurely chatting away on the sofa. The cute little girl had sat herself down on a high-backed, velvet-plushed chair which Dick's grandfather had used and shown preferential fondness for when he was alive.
All at once, little Dick became steamed to the girl. So he threw himself on her lap and proceeded to rub away on her lap, his little nookie hitting against her bare thighs through the thinness of his own pants and shorts; the little girl was wearing white bobby-socks.
Dick kept right on rubbing away, working himself up to shooting. Just when he reached the pinnacle of his state of tumescence, all at once the little girl's mother seemed to take cognizance of Dick and what he was doing. Not only that, but her daughter didn't seem to object either. Rather, she had a dreamy, starry-eyed look on her face and was actually holding onto little Dick, propping him up on her lap so that he wouldn't fall off.
The girl's mother said much the same thing as his Aunt Fay had previously said, exclaiming aloud, quite shocked and most indignantly: "Good Heavens, Emily, what on Earth is little Dick trying to do?"
And his mother, now also observing his animated antics on the lap, utterly nonplussed, retorted: "Oh, that's nothing, Bess. I asked Dr. Kronkite about it, and he said it was perfectly all right and normal for a boy of his age."
The woman called Bess didn't persist in any further argument, but mere moments later, found some excuse to take her daughter out of there in a hurry, and never brought her with her again.
Just a few weeks later, the little girl died from a burst appendix, and little Dick, with the typical omnipotence of primitive people and children, felt that he was directly responsible for having killed her, after his mother managed to explain to him just what a burst appendix was.
Many years later, when Dick went to a headshrinker, the analyst spent many hours (and much of Dick's bankroll) speculating as to the traumatic significance of this event. But, after much idle theorizing, the analyst had to conclude that there wasn't a strong residue of guilt-feelings resultant from this incident, because the good Dr. Kronkite had told Dick's mother it was all right for him to do such a thing: Therefore, quite inadvertently, to be sure, the good Dr. Kronkite, that staunch middle-class doctor, had assumed the role of Jesus Christ in Dick's life.
But even so, Dick's analyst still was inclined to speculate about Dick's feeling of omnipotence over women and his strange power to kill .them by having sex-relations with them. At the very last, this could be another plausible motivation for him having such an intense anal-sadistic fixation and the desire to spank young girls' bottoms as a possible projection-that they had the power to hurt him-and a reaction-formation of going to the opposite extreme and instead of feeling guilty, taking the bull by the horns, so to speak.
Be that as it may, undoubtedly the seeds for Dick Kingsley's anal-sadistic fixation and deep-rooted castration-anxiety were sewn right at home with his parents. However, it was his Uncle Walt who really brought out the anal-fixation, cathexsizing its alluring and emotional connotations in Dick's life for once and all time, via the classical repetition-compulsion pattern, particularly since Uncle Walt had a quite fetching young daughter of his own whom he perennially spanked, in addition to caning Dick's bare behind during the Summer months of that not-to-be-forgotten vacation which Dick spent there with him, at his uncle's country estate.
Dick's mind was naturally about to dwell on the incidents surrounding this stay, when, with a start, he realized that a full half hour was up, Jeanie Barton's bottom had cooled off sufficiently and was due to be spanked again.
So vowing that he would return to thinking about the spanking-events with his Uncle Walt later, after young Jeanie had taken her final leave of him and he was all alone, he went to fetch her to give her the second half of her torrid, blistering fanny-warming!...
CHAPTER THREE
For awhile, as Jeanie Barton was in the most severe throes of her state of dire burning anguish, she, accordingly, wildly flopped around all over the seat, and Dick, from his vantage-point, could clearly see her burnished copper !'for a succulent young cunt. But after a time, as she settled down and became somewhat more acclimated to the tender, sensitive feeling of having her blistered rump harshly making contact with the hard wood seat and her animation diminished, her mini skirt naturally slid downward, obliterating the sweet twat from his view.
Finally figuring out an excuse, Dick arose to his feet, went over to her and grunted: "The skirt is in the way," he said matter-of-factly, by way of explanation.
Then he raised her up so he could remove it, popping the buttons that were placed on the side, then pulling it off altogether. This being done, he sat her back down again with a hard shove on the tops of her shoulders.
Jeanie winced in pain when she was forced to make such abrupt contact with her ass to the seat again, and, for a few moments, threshed around, yielding in pain more wildly than ever. But then gradually, she became acclimated to it again, finding that her bottom had cooled off-be it ever so slight-so that she didn't have to scurry about quite so much or fast on the seat. Rather now, she naturally moved with a lilt, slithering, bumping and grinding most tantalizingly-comparable to some star burlesque bombshell. And Dick all but flipped watching her frantic antics: To him, it was as though she was doing a special "Ritual Dance of Fire" for him sitting down. But it was particularly her burnished-copper snatch which drove him wild: It seemed to assume a life all of its own, with the long, thin and firm outer labia lips twitching and having little erratic spasms, the jagged red cuntal-slit just asking to be entered and deeply penetrated.
Gazing upon such a celestial vision-that of a young edition of Ann Margaret having so recently been spanked and suffering the inevitable pangs of the aftermath, her facial expressions, the natural gyrations of her whole supple, sinewy entity and heavenly cunt-made Dick pop off in his pants, a few drops of his manly cum eluding him before he could properly control his throbbing dick: He was also beginning to feel the unmistakable dire pangs indicative of blue-balls: If there wasn't some way he could pop off his nuts in full and come with a complete load soon, he knew that he would be real sick. But he realized that he had to control himself until the proper time came-if it came at all!...
Presently, his smoke was over, the half hour of allotted time was up and he was ready to resume spanking her again for the second full half of his proposed task: As he placed his hands under her armpits and raised her bodily in mid-air, in the process of dragging her back to the sofa, he explained: "Spanking-time again, Jeanie, my dear."
Although she still was whimpering softly, she was no longer crying as such; therefore, she was able to speak once he had her in the proper position. She looked real cute and sexy to him too, as her naturally wavy auburn coiffure had come loose and dangled over her lowered head across his lap. Then she was trying to turn around to address him: "All right," she said softly, "spank me all that you will-whack the very skin off my saucy bum-but at least put your hand up in here."
Then not waiting for him to reply, having turned halfway around, she reached out with her arm and took his left hand, thrusting it all the way up and in to her delectable snatch: Dick found that, on the outside,, the fringe of hairs were like bristly steel wires, and all around and inside the firm, pouting lips the entire twat was already dank with a sticky, congealed blanket, indicative of the churning juices of pre-secretion. Knowingly, his hand shot upward, to the pea that was akin to a miniature penis and was her pinkish-white pearl for a clit. It was somewhat long and thin and twitching.
Using his index and middle fingers as an improvised fork to hold her still, he once again commenced whacking away on her already thoroughly crimson-coated backside: He did so rather indiscriminately this time, putting all that he had behind each and every crack, his hand rising and falling as fast as he could only make it do so. And every time that it came down and imbedded itself in a given hot sphere of flesh, Jeanie would rise and fall on that improvised fork of his inside her cunt, and on the downward stroke, his index finger would naturally massage her already throbbing clit.
He kept on laying them on like that, going from one sphere to the other one. Then, every half a dozen whacks or so, gave her two quick hard ones encompassing the arced-creases and the slabs that were the backs of the thighs simultaneously.
Although he was whaling away at her far more savagely than ever and her entire backside was already a morass of fire and acute sensitivity from all that she had taken with the first paddy-whacking, Jeanie didn't cry, but merely emitted a soft, gasping whimper each and every time his hard, bony palm struck and took its toll.
Paradoxically, after awhile, with her flesh feeling as if it were virtually on fire, it hurt his hand far more than he was hurting her, as she seemed to become totally oblivious to this being any form of punishment as such. Dick wanted to desist from himself before the full designated forty cracks had been delivered. But he couldn't, as she looked so enticing, doing a virtual Can-Can Dance, face downward on his lap, that she was utterly captivating and irresistible, and he forced himself to muster up the 'elan-vital to continue.
With about ten cracks still left to go, he slowed down and trailed off from his steady whacking, hoping to at least pause to gain a brief respite. But Jeanie spurred him on with: "Don't stop now, Big Daddy-O. Keep whacking away. Give it all you've got. I'm about to come. So don't let me down now."
Then as his hand went through the paces of rising and falling again even though he didn't have much gusto behind it, sure enough, she began to come, and Dick felt the entire inside of her snatch erupt as if it were a bed of molten lava, the proverbial volcano-cone twitching and snapping like crazy as the whole cunt erupted as one furious, intricate entity and Jeanie moaned aloud compulsively, gasping out her pangs of ecstatic rapture: "Oh, oh, oh-hhh... Oh, Daddy, oh-hhh!... "
Now that it was all over, Dick dropped all pretenses: After all, what was the use in continuing the sham any longer? he reflected, when she had such a hot little biscuit between her legs-such a delectable honeybun for a cunt and been made to come: In addition to which, he just didn't have the heart to make her sit back down on the hard wooden chair, and suffer any longer. So he rolled her around and over, straightening her upright, to sit on his lap instead. However, Dick in all his confusion, seemed to be forgetting something-that most obtrusive hard-on of his-which was more insistent than ever as the head of his aching dick wedged itself between the crack of her red-hot, now tautened, curvaceous behind.
Quite deliberately, with malice aforethought, she slithered around liltingly on his lap. All at once, she stopped doing it and threw her arms around his neck, her previously puffy, reddened face breaking out into a winning smile of utter happiness, her lips curling up mischievously into a naughty pout before she exclaimed aloud in her most provocative, sexy, even as it, was child-like, voice: "That was good, Big Daddy-O-real good. You made me cream in gobs."
"Well, that wasn't my intention, believe me," Dick replied dryly and defensively.
"And you didn't enjoy yourself at all, I suppose?" she asked of him accusingly.
"No, I most certainly did not, young lady," he retorted, once again assuming his most dignified, pedantic air.
"Liar!" she mocked back at him. "And what do you call this now, then?"
"Whatever are you referring to, my dear?"
"As if you don't know," she mocked right back at him. 'That mighty prick of yours shoved up the crack of my ass such a terrific, frantic hard-on.! So, how about that, huh?" she challenged him. "Deny that, if you will!"
How could he? It was utterly impossible. So, completely on the defensive now and feeling that he was about to be verbally routed, as a last resort, he exclaimed clumsily: "Well, you provoked it, my dear."
"I did. How so?"
"By making me place my hand up your private part while I went about spanking you, then coming all over my hand, is what"
"So what about it? If a person has given up smoking, this doesn't mean that he should resume smoking just because he sees another person smoking, does it?"
Such a form of logic was utterly irrefutable, so Dick was forced to reply lamely: "No, I guess not."
"But, don't be ashamed of it, Big Dick, darling," she all but cooed now, changing the tone of her voice abruptly and her tactic as well. "Be glad that a man of your age gets aroused and can still get such a mighty hard-on as the one you've got. Boy," she mused, now seeming to think-out-loud, "from the feel of it, you sure got a real big one. How I would like to feel it inside of me, with all of its fullness and goodness."
"You would?" Dick gasped aloud with sheer incredulity at this happy surprise. "You really would, my dear?"
"Uh-huh. More than anything. And, if you would like to really please me and make me happy, you'll fuck me in the ass and give me a good, thorough enema such as my mother used to do when I felt sick in my tummy and all clogged up. So how does that sound, huh? Will you do it, pee-lease?" she actually cajoled with him now.
"Well, seeing the way you feel, my dear, under the extenuating circumstances, I don't have any other alternative, do I?" He tried to make it sound as if he was the one who was doing her the favor.
However, she still wouldn't let him get off the hook, commenting demurely: "No, Big Dick, darling-not with the rip-roaring hard-on that you've got."
Seeing that anymore such bickering was fast getting him no-place, not to mention the bad case of blue-balls that was setting in from the time-length of his frustration, he merely said tersely: "Very well, Jeanie, my dear. So be it. Now, just let me get up and go fetch a jar of either cold cream or vaseline, so that I'll be sure not to hurt you."
"How kind and considerate," she jeered.
Then, as she let him get up and he sauntered in long strides to the bathroom in the other corner of the room and went about fetching a jar of some kind of lubricant or other, Dick was meditating even in all of his intense excitement which made him feel as if he had a temporary state of the palsy: So he had been right, after all about Jeanie Barton, hmmm? he said to himself rhetorically.
He had always sensed something vibrant and intense about her-an aura of the very same quality of being which Ann Margret herself seemed to exude from her person in the movies and on the boob-tube.
In an interview one time given to a reporter from one of those cheap, lurid muck-raking sheets who had interviewed her, Ann Margret had bluntly said, (this was before she was married: 'That she needed a man to tame her-one who would chase her around the room with a bullwhip!"
Of course, Dick had no way to ascertain if the starlet had meant it or was merely seeking some sensational publicity. But since the interview had been given at the height of her career in the movies, he assumed it was sincere. In any case, he sensed that very quality about Jeanie Barton's person which Ann Margret had, in effect, described-that of the classical female Masochist.
One psychoanalyst or other had described young and effervescent Jeanie Barton's type quite well, when he postulated: "That she was the type who was deliberately aggressive with men to invite retaliatory aggression!"
How apropos a description that was-how very apropos, indeed!...
Dick located a jar of cold cream which he had been seeking in the medicine-cabinet, hurriedly extracted it and returned to the main room of his office. He temporarily relinquished the jar, placing it on a decorative hand-carved black teakwood table, which also had an Oriental-scrolled lamp with a jade-green lamp-shade, located on the side of the room between the bathroom and front door.
This being done, Dick went about divesting himself of his pants and shorts; he didn't bother with the top clothes, as it wasn't at all necessary for what he was going to do. Then he pulled out his tremendous cock, retrieved the jar of cold cream, uncapped it and gingerly rubbed up the entirety of the shaft with backward and forward strokes, ending up with a few thick, careful dabs on the head.
Over by the sofa at the far side of the room, young Jeanie had been fondly observing his various antics all along as he went through them. However, she didn't voice any comment aloud until his mighty prick was thoroughly rubbed in and greased up. Then she exclaimed in a knowing but admiring tone: "Hmmm, just as I thought. You do have a real big tool, Dick darling. How will you ever get such a great big thing into a little tight place like my delicate, tender ass-hole?" she queried of him happily.
Even though he was a middle-aged man, Dick felt himself on the brink of blushing at her cooing words. To cover up these shameful feelings from being made manifest to her, he growled gruffly: "All right, turn around, Jeanie, my dear, so I can rub you in and grease you up too. Then, you'll find that it won't hurt at all, but will go in real easy-like," he concluded by way of explanation.
"Yes, Mighty Master," she cooed her acquiescence, simultaneously doing his bidding. "I have the utmost confidence in your ability to soothe me and not hurt me, Big Daddy-O."
Now that she was standing still in the light and could really observe his cruel handiwork for the first time, he found that he had done a real thorough job of it, as her entire backside was all a raw, red hue-like some freshly ground balls of chopped meat!
Simultaneously, as he looked her over, Dick rubbed generous, thick gobs of the cold cream on the palms of his hands. Then he drew closer to her.
He went about rubbing her up most thoroughly and meticulously. After greasing up the tender arced curves of flesh around the crack surrounding her little tight, round, reddish-brown ass-hole, he rubbed in the rest of the meaty mounds of spanked flesh, and out of consideration for her, even went down around and across the sleek marble-like slabs that were the backs of her thighs.
Jeanie trembled and convulsed involuntarily as he proceeded to rub her in, mainly due to the marked contrast between the intense, burning, tingling heat of her flesh and the ice-cold feeling of the cold cream:"
"Ouuu," she squealed aloud. "Ouuu... ouuu... ouuuuuu!"
But Dick paid her no heed, as goose-pimples spread out all over her backsides in a clustered rash. Finally, with the entire application of the cold cream all smoothed out and even, Dick went up to the little tight, round, reddish-brown ass-hole, rubbing it in by using just his index-finger with a light, easy circular-motion. Jeanie lightly threshed and undulated her entire body as he did this with fervent anticipation of what was soon to come.
Finally, he was ready to take her at last: "All right, my dear," he said amiably but tensely aloud, "bend over so that I can get a good grip on your tits."
Jeanie knew just what he wanted and assumed the proper position. Her ripe, young gourds for tits, which looked like two large suckling-pears with ripe, reddish-purple sugar-gage plums for their inert, swollen tips, dipped low invitingly.
Dick bent over and grabbed them. As soon as he did so, they instantly became as hard as rocks and quite tepid. His persistent hard-on pulsated and throbbed to still new dimensions. He also felt those dull pains in the pit of his groin, and realized that he had to take her fast if he didn't want a bad case of the blue-balls: Nevertheless, he was extra careful to insert the head of his dick in right. Once this was achieved, he pushed gently forward, and as soon as the head of the cock got past the tight little sphincter-muscle, the entire prick naturally slid inward-as if it was traveling along a well-greased, hot third-rail. Dick buried the shaft in to the very hilt, as Jeanie squealed aloud: "Ouuu, that feels so... goo-oood, Big Daddy-O."
Then with the hot cheeks of her curvy ass surrounding and pressing against his thighs to provide him with proper inspiration, Dick began pumping away from his stomach, so that he wouldn't have to take long strokes; rather, he could pump quickly and shortly, enabling him to pop off and come that much sooner.
And, come, he did, in spasmodic spurts. He kept pumping away into her, feeling the intense pleasure and exhilaration of release going through all of his arteries. Then, having reached the brink, he felt himself trail off and start to grow somewhat listless and lethargic. In another few seconds and corresponding little spurts, he would have withdrawn from inside of her altogether. However, he calculated without taking young Jeanie's own inclinations into proper account: "Oh, oh, oh-hhh," she moaned aloud, shuddering and convulsing. "How wonderful that feels-how sweet and good More of your scum, give me more; give me all that you've only got."
Then, realizing that he was about to stop, all at once, Jeanie threw up the bone of her rectum at his still lightly quivering cock. She bent further over so that his cock could get in still further and deeper. Then she started to toss and turn the cheeks of her hot, curvy ass most liltingly, slithering, bumping and grinding away as she simultaneously drew on his cock with the ringed sphincter-muscle of her hot little ass-hole.
Dick felt a new surge of inspiration and energy go through him, charging him up to new heights. So he kept pumping away and shooting, as her tight little ass-hole drew and drained on him-kept right on drawing and draining all of the juice inside of him, until he thought that she was oozing out the very marrow from his bones. His knees felt rubbery and wobbly: Still she was drawing and draining him, her high, upthrust, hot provocative behind tossing in an utter frenzy now, slithering, bumping and grinding away. His spurts of cum had long since over-filled the natural cup provided by her tight little ass hole and now ran out, dripping down over her sleek hot slabs for thighs, until they thoroughly encased them.
However, young Jeanie paid this absolutely no heed, still tossing and turning her magnetic ass, trying to draw and drain on him. But finally, the inevitable happened, and Dick slumped against her, sending his heavy, powerful weight sending her sprawling down over the center of the couch, utterly pooped and done in: She had drained him, all right-drained him completely dry!...
He had never known a girl like her: She could use her ass-toss and turn it and make it quiver-the way the most experienced girl could use her snatch.
Yes, it was truly incredible, all right!...
Now that it was all over, they both took turns at refreshing themselves in the bathroom and got completely dressed. Jeanie lingered for awhile, sitting on the couch, Dick resumed his leisurely position behind his large ornate desk, puffing away on his Sherlock Holmes model curved pipe. The smoke lazily curling around his handsome, distinguished looking face, he queried of her aloud: "Well, Jeanie, my dear, how was it? Good, hmmm?"
"Yes, very," she unhesitatingly and most sincerely replied.
"How good?" he persisted humorously.
But she was quite serious as she answered: "So good, that I would be willing to take a licking with a strap until you beat the very skin off of my saucy rump, providing you also do what you did to me afterward. But the next time, if you don't mind, fuck me doggy-fashion instead of just in the ass. All right by you, Dick darling?" she ended on a happy child-like, enthusiastic-note.
Her last uttered words made Dick truly taken back and flabbergasted: "My, my, but you sure are a most precocious child, aren't you, my dear?"
"Does that mean I'm real sexy and passionate for my age?" Jeanie inquired, the very picture of coyness and naivete.
"Yes, my dear. Precisely."
"Well, then, I guess I am," she declared matter-of-factly.
When she finally took her leave and returned back to class, young Jeanie Barton floated out of Richard Kingsley's office as if she were on a cloud-truly in Dreamsville!
As for Dick, he was making a mental note to be sure to hump her doggy-fashion the next time-through the cheeks of her saucy, lilting ass, but into her delectable cunt. And, having such a pleasant thought, he was most amazed to find that his cock was slowly growing like a snake that was uncurling to strike and sink its sharp, lethal fangs into its intended victim.
Yes, Dick concluded decisively, young Jeanie Barton was really something, all right-a most precocious child-a most precocious child, indeed!
However, now that he was alone and was sure he wouldn't be interrupted, Dick resumed his meditative-period of free-association right where he had left off, lightly skipping over the events of his early childhood-the so-called formative years, particularly of adolescence, in a capsule-form before dwelling at greater, more detailed length on his many turbulent experiences since being a member of the theater, until he would be up to the present and the most notorious spanker, fucker, sucker and ass-hole reamer of them all!...
CHAPTER FOUR
If Richard Kingsley presently thought that young, sensuous Jeanie Barton was precocious, that was still nothing-she was the very epitome of innocence-compared to himself when he was around her age.
Strictly speaking, his diverse experiences started when Dick was thirteen and sent for the entire duration of the Summer vacation months to his Uncle Walt, his father's brother, for acting lessons for that allotted interim.
Now, it should be pointed out, that before actually sending him there, Dick's parents had many misgivings and apprehensions about doing so, as Walt Kingsley was definitely the black sheep of the whole family, a habitual drinker and a wild man with the women, having had many a wife and mistress. He wasn't the least inhibited about any perversion or nuance whatsoever, and nothing that was considered libidinal really fazed him.
Be that as it may, the other end of the dichotomy was, that Walt Kingsley was a big commercial success as an actor, having been a matinee idol in the theater and subsequently, later on, a big movie star, his lavish, sumptuous estate in Long Island clearly attesting to his affluence as being definitely the most successful of all time of the whole Kingley clan, which went way back, for three whole generations in the theater. So it was this latter factor which finally decided Dick's parents, especially since he so much resembled his uncle, and besides being a good tutor for the boy, could exert considerable influence, with his pull, for furthering his career when he was of age and ready for it: Nevertheless, they still had the very same misgivings!
Not did such fears turn out to be unfounded, either, as, if anything, young Dick found, that "his bite was worse than his bark," upon being close to him, in his domain.
Now, by some strange quirk of Fate and/or coincidence, Walt Kingsley had another young person in his charge, to give dramatic lessons to for these given Summer months. It was a sixteen-year-old girl, by the name of Daphne Forbes.
Actually, Daphne wasn't his child, but a stepdaughter, belonging to one of his ex wives by marriage to another man. She was a rich nymphomaniac, and wanted to be free to gallivant around the continent, fucking and sucking up a storm unimpeded.
"The apple didn't fall very far from the tree," it seemed, as Daphne, a sinewy honey-blonde on the Susannah York type, also was hot in the biscuit and had carried on with many a boy to her mother's knowledge. So, as a special favor to her, the mother asked Walt Kingsley to look after her for the Summer, and agreed he could assume the role of her actual flesh-and-blood father, being strict with her whenever he deemed it necessary.
Walt Kingsley fairly jumped at the golden opportunity, knowing what a hot little piece this Daphne was, and having a terrific, perpetual hard-on for this most succulent morsel of young female-flesh.
So it was that both young Dick and Daphne Forbes stayed with Walt Kingsley conjointly for that most fateful, eventful Summer in their lives, and took acting lessons from him. But that wasn't all they were taught-not by a long shot!
Upon the slightest provocation, if Daphne stepped out of line the least bit, especially if she stayed out late on a date with a boy, or even went out with one who didn't meet with her uncle's approval-and that would be almost never-Kingsley would be waiting for her, to openly confront her with his angry accusations right on the very front-lawn of his home. And he would announce precisely what he was going to do to her by the way of chastisement, namely, to whip her bare, saucy rump.
Since young Dick was almost invariably within immediate ear-shot and all such surrounding took place in his uncle's study, it was quite easy for Dick to spy on the goings-on, especially with there being a thick, heavy, even if small gnarled tree, adjacent to the window of the study, and so very convenient for him.
So, despite any and all of Daphne's squealing protests, she caught the blazes on her bared behind anyway, which usually went: "You don't have the right to whip me. You aren't my real father, you know. So just what business is it of yours who I go out with, how late I stay out, and just what I do on dates?"
And his uncle's invariable glib, assured answer would be: "I have been given the right, my dear, by your mother. And, you are still a minor, as you know. And, just so long as you're staying here with me, under my direct jurisdiction, and I am responsible for your keeping, you will either behave yourself properly the way a young lady should, or suffer the consequences. Now, forward march up to my study-to get your just desserts, you sassy, impudent young thing, you!
Then despite all of her squirming and squealing, Daphne would be bodily dragged up to the study. In the meantime, young Dick would shimmy up the gnarled tree and perch himself, in dire anticipation of what was imminently to come, being afforded fresh jerk-off material which he so eagerly sought.
And he soon got it!
Looking back in retrospect now, Dick mused that it was truly a ludicrous sight, seeing his uncle, who was dressed like a real dandy, smoking a cigarette through a long black onyx cigarette-holder gripped tautly in his mouth, grab for his struggling, screeching bundle of female-flesh, finally manage to get her over his lap, then to rip up the hem of her dress and pull down her wispy drawers, thereby baring her behind of all such female-finery.
Daphne had a real nice and firm curvy, upthrust, dimpled ass, Dick found, and the flesh was most resilient, the meaty mounds bouncing around emphatically as his Uncle Walt proceeded to whack away with considerable gusto and animation, his hard right hand rapidly rising and failing and cracking away, doing out fire and pain.
Daphne would scream accordingly, as the hard, bony palm took its toll.
On subsequent occasions, Kingsley's method of scourging seasons Daphne would become even more severe, resorting to a short, squat but heavy and hard-wood military-model of a hairbrush, a spanking-weapon which could really arouse sheer havoc when being applied to bare, soft, pliable female-flesh.
And even though she-would be made to scream more fervently than ever with her entire bottom and backs of her thighs getting steadily ever redder and redder, until the entire backside was as raw and red as a fire-engine, a strange metamorphosis seemed to transpire in Daphne: Her moaning sounds and threshing-movements seemed to become more of being racked with passion than with pain: It was as though she had a definite need to have a father and be punished for her sins, along with a definite undertone of an Electra Fixation So when her little honeybun for a pussy began to snap and twitch, Walt Kingsley, who had ,a perpetual hard-on for her, anyway, quickly rammed his cock into her: He fucked her in the ass.
He fucked her doggy-fashion.
He fucked her Caveman-style in the cunt, roughly bruising and violating her supple, sinewy, curvaceously streamlined entity in every manner and way conceivable, raising black-and-blue marks that would linger for day afterward.
Regardless, Daphne always seemed to come back for more of the same ill-treatment-getting her pretty, dimpled bum resoundingly whacked-then when it was al red-hot and thoroughly blistered and they would both feel the intense heat permeated between and within them-there would be his uncle's libidinal-explosion in some form or another.
But regardless which route his uncle's urge took at a given time, young Dick got to learn a great deal by vicariously watching the goings-on in the drawing-room: Already, at the tender age of thirteen, he knew what a cunt was and how to go about it, along with the differentiation of fucking a girl in the ass and doing so doggy-fashion...
Dick had an acute dichotomy where lovely Daphne Forbes was concerned: On one hand, she was is irrefutable Fairy Princess and he deeply resented his Uncle Walt whaling her saucy, shapely behind, and, if anything, would have liked to get down on his bended knees in total reverence and licked, lapped and eaten out her precious honey bun for a twat-that is, providing he knew what Frenching a cunt was (which he certainly didn't at the time).
Then, on the other hand, the constant, ferocious spankings excited him no end, prompting him to think about them at night, put himself in his uncle's place, and also whale Daphne's bare, curvaceous backside, resulting in him jerking off like mad-at least two, three times each and every night-in the private seclusion of the bedroom which his uncle had assigned to him; of course, Daphne had a separate assigned room of her own.
But even though Dick vacillated and oscillated from one extreme to the other in his fantasies, the total result was to distract him, so that he couldn't pay proper attention and give good reading of parts with his uncle's tutoring of him to be an actor, so that ultimately, he was also destined to feel his uncle's perpetual wrath first-hand!
It should be pointed out in this connection, that Daphne also read dismally-like an automaton-with no real emotion or feeling. However, truth to tell, his uncle didn't care how futile Daphne was, except to possibly offer him an additional excuse to whale her bare bottom. But he already had more than enough excuses for that expressed purpose.
Young Dick was something else altogether in this regard: After all, he was Walt Kingsley's own flesh-and-blood, his brother's son.
Then too, since young Dick physically resembled him so strongly, also being built tall and slim, with blond hair and blue eyes, with the perfect features and strong profile of a Greek God and would most closely approximate Richard Chamberlain, the TV and movie-actor when he reached full maturity, there was a definite tinge of Narcissism in Walt Kingsley's wanting Dick to learn from him all that he had to teach him, and to become a really first-class actor.
Last but not least, since the whole Kingsley clan had Walt down as the "black sheep" and a hopeless, worthless Libertine-Bohemian, "it would be a feather in his hat" if he could bring out the acting-spark in young Dick, which seemed to be inherent in the entire family for generations back. So it was, that when Dick, despite uttered and reiterated verbal admonishments continued to read his assigned part listlessly, by rote, after threatening to do so several times, his uncle decided to make good his essential threat-of taking young Dick to the proverbial woodshed!
First, he dismissed Daphne Forbes and told her to go outside and take a walk into town-into the village-and perhaps do some shopping.
When she was gone, he said to Dick, "Now, young man, to properly take you to task-to the good, old woodshed. Have you ever heard the term? And if so, do you know what it means?"
"Well. .yes. Vaguely, Uncle Walt".
"Well, permit me, then, to clarify it for you: The actual derivation goes back to the good old days, particularly in Germany and England, when the teachers, not satisfied with the performance of lessons of their pupils, usually in music, were permitted by the parents to thrash them at their discretion on their bare behinds! "Of course, today, the meaning has become greatly sublimated, and usually requires extensive rehearsing and sweating. But, in your case, since the sublimated way has failed, I'm very much afraid we have no other alternative but to regress directly back to the more basic, primitive meaning of the term 'woodshedding.' Do I make myself clear, my boy?"
Although he said the relatively long speech in a cold, calculated, even pedantic tone, his meaning was unmistakable and sent seeping chills of dread up and down young Dick's spine: "You mean, you're going to thrash me, Uncle Walt?"
"Precisely."
"But-" Dick started to. protest.
However, Kingsley interjected with: "Pleading won't do you the least bit of good, I'm afraid. As a matter-of-fact, the more you protest, the worse you're going to catch it, and you're in for the dickens enough as it is. So take down your trousers and drawers then get down on your bended knees and assume the proper angle."
"But, Uncle," Dick yelped," in a way of trying to testingly cajole with him again for mercy.
"You heard what I said, Dick. Now, obey me and do so at once, young man," Kingsley declared grimly.
Seeing that it was no use, Dick complied with his uncle's wishes, taking down his pants and drawers, then bending down and over and assuming the proper angle for a good, sound licking that was soon to come. However, it took several precious minutes for this state of semi-dishevelment to be achieved, as Dick, so fearful as he was, had shaking fingers that groped, fumbled and bungled.
Finally, he was set, the cheeks of his young ass tautened to receive the brunt of the designated punishment He could hear his uncle's breathing in back of him.
All of a sudden, there was a harsh, whistling sound, then a terrific crack and a dull thud, as the implement that his uncle was wielding bit and dug in to his bare, pliable flesh.
Unlike when he whaled Daphne, Kingsley didn't resort to either his hand or a hairbrush, even, but chose to use his cane on Dick, since he was a boy and naturally had a tougher skin to assimilate punishment It was a walking-stick made out of black teakwood, filled with lead and silver-tipped at the end, thereby making it harder, tougher and more lethal than a policeman's night-stick, even.
When the fire and pain registered, Dick was made to yelp aloud for all he was worth. It was far worse than he had anticipated. Indeed, such terrible pain and hurt were utterly incomprehensible to his still young, tender mind: "Yeowww... ouuu, that hurts. Please, Uncle Walt, stop it"
"Not on your life, young man. I'm afraid you just have to take all of your just desserts and put up with it as gracefully and Stoically as you can under the circumstances."
Then that awful, terrible cane was being swished through the air again-cracking and thudding-digging in and biting.
"Yeoww... ouuu," Dick yelped even more emphatically than the first time. "I can't stand it; I just can't Please, Uncle, spank me if you will, but not with that. Pee-lease."
"I'm sorry, my boy, but you simply must take it. There really is nothing so successful at making a teacher's lesson sink in than welts on his young pupil's bare behind."
Then saying that, his uncle really went to work without neither pause nor letup, the cane swishing, cracking and thudding through the air, landing again and again.
Using a definite sustained drive, Kingsley kept thrashing him until both cheeks of his behind and the entirety of the back of young Dick's thighs were covered with angry, red welts the size of sausages, leaving him a burbling, gurgling mess by the time he got done with him, lying there flat on his face and making those incoherent sounds indicative of all the excruciating anguish he felt!
But if Dick found the actual licking itself to be terrible and ferocious, it was still nothing compared with the aftermath, when the welts had a chance to really swell and grow to their full livid dimensions, so that he wasn't able to sit down properly for more than a week after the swelling went down and the welts changed to black-and-blue marks!...
Although he jerked himself off more fiercely than ever, thinking of caning Daphne's saucy, curvy rump every bit as ferociously as his uncle caned him, still, even at that, young Dick didn't let himself get distracted from his acting lessons. He was definitely determined not to have to go through such a horrible ordeal again-not ever!
So it was that the reading of his part improved considerably. No, more than that, ever. Not only did he read with proper emphasis of emotion and feeling, but also quickly picked up an accumulative technique which his uncle eagerly taught him, via little subtle tricks and nuances exerted at certain strategic intervals of playing a given part-which, indeed, "truly separated the men from the boys" in the theater.
As a matter-of-fact, his uncle was so pleased at the remarkable way he was coming along with his acting lessons, that he decided to reward Dick. With this definite purpose in mind, Kingsley once again dismissed Daphne and told her, in effect: "to get lost in the village in town" Once Daphne was gone, Kingsley instructed Dick "to lower his pants and shorts and assume the proper angle."
Dick became most apprehensive at this demand and uttered his fears aloud to his uncle: "You're not going to thrash me again, are you, Uncle? I've been doing my reading good; you even said so yourself. So-"
"To be sure, my boy, you have. And, I have absolutely no intention of punishing you, I assure you."
"But-" Dick started to protest.
"Just do as you're told and you'll be given a nice reward by me for your good work, I promise."
"Oh, very well," Dick muttered, still fearful and mistrusting.
Finally, he was set in the properly designated position-down on his bended knees-with the curvy cheeks of his young ass bare, taught and upthrust "Now what, Uncle?" he turned his head around to inquire of him.
"Purely this, my boy," his uncle smoothly replied. "I'm going to ream you in your behind-a most enjoyable experience that will be. You see, when you're naughty, you get your rump thrashed. But when you're good, you get it treated nicely and kindly."
"But, won't it also hurt me?"
"Not in the least, my boy. No more than say, when your mother gave you an enema properly. And besides, I'm also going to use plenty of vaseline, to grease us both up properly."
Then having said that, his uncle, true to his word, went and fetched a jar of vaseline from the medicine-cabinet in the bathroom. Upon his return, he promptly took out his enormous torpedo-like cock, which already had a mighty hard-on, a priori, in dire anticipation of what he was about to do and the intense enjoyment he would derive, and greased it all up thoroughly, from the shaft to the head.
This being done, he went over to young Dick, generous dabs of the vaseline all over his fingers and palms, and proceeded to rub in the arced-creases of the tautened rump and the tender, delicate crevice that lurked inside.
He had a most smooth, soothing, gentle touch, young Dick found, at doing this-that is, when he wanted to have it and wasn't intent on cutting up some ass.
As his uncle rubbed and massaged the vaseline all the way around and in the behind, he said musingly, more thinking-out-loud than directly addressing young Dick: "You know, Dick, you're such a pretty boy. You remind me of myself when I was young and your age. And, like me, you, are destined to be one of the truly blessed ones, who can both give and take satisfactorily in the sexual experience-be a full-grown man at times, and a full-fledged female at others."
This particular thought was a bit too deep for young Dick at the time and "over his head," so he didn't deign to reply.
Then, having finished greasing young Dick's ass up, too, Kingsley got close and slowly but surely inserted his tremendous stiff cock into the confines of the narrow, tight ass-hole.
As his uncle slowly began to rise and fall against him, the hard, stiff cock moving to and fro, at first, true to his fears, it hurt him a bit But after a few such strokes, when the prick was allowed to sink in to the natural bed provided by the mutual coating of vaseline, any feeling of pain and ache quickly dissolved. Instead, in its place, there was a feeling of ever growing exhilaration and pleasure: Involuntarily, without even realizing it, young Dick began to slither, bump and grind the cheeks of his ass the way a burlesque bombshell might have done. Then too, the sphincter-muscle in his rectum seemed to feel itchy and slightly burning-as though it always had craved a cock to be rammed up in there and it was the most natural thing in the World for it to be inside of him-pumping away.
After a time, the sphincter-muscle naturally drew his uncle's cock on to greater and deeper surges-drawing on it the way a twitching, quivering cunt would have done.
Then, fully cognizant of enjoying the reaming, as Kingsley started to accelerate his sustained drive to reach a definite climax, Dick, wanting to match his uncle by having some sort of climax of his own, began to jerk at his now also stiff cock with both of his hands, in direct attunement to the tempo his uncle was setting.
Sensing what young Dick was doing to himself and wanted, Kingsley brushed his hands gently aside and placed his own hands there, the knowing, adroit touch making Dick reach a brink of tumescence even faster and more intensely.
Then growling like a roaring lion, with his young nephew more softly echoing him, they both came simultaneously.
They kept pumping away, getting all of the passion-juice out of them, until Kingsley's manly cum filled and overflowed the rectum of Dick's behind and dripped down around onto the cheeks and thighs, and Dick, for his own part had shot indiscriminate loads of his fresh boyish cum all over the room, creating quite a mess to be cleaned up: But his Uncle Walt didn't care about that.
After all, why should he?...
CHAPTER FIVE
His Uncle Walt caught young Dick jerking himself off in the bathroom one afternoon, thinking of caning lovely Daphne while his Uncle Walt fucked him in the ass.
Instead of being indignant and punishing him, his uncle declared, seemingly with a great sense of personal satisfaction: "You're a true Kingsley, my boy. But there's no sense in wasting it Want me to help you get your little nuts off, hmmm?"
"Uh-huh," young Dick eagerly replied.
So his Uncle Walt bent him over the rim by the tub. It felt cold and hard against his legs, in contrast to the big, throbbing prick shoved up his ass-hole once his uncle greased them both up properly with the dabs of vaseline, and it was really wonderful.
As his uncle kept on delivering thrusts deep into his very rectum and jerked him off gingerly in direct attune to his pumping, Dick continued to fantasize about caning Daphne: Actually, it was a two-part fantasy, with its integral parts, consisting of: his uncle reaming him in the ass and rendering pleasure, while he simultaneously inflicted fire, pain and fury on either Daphne or some other choice female morsel of flesh, on the bare, curvy ass, the female of the species being a definite competitor for male-favor in this particular libidinal-context.
As a matter-of-fact, even the very first time his uncle had reamed him, despite his great apprehensions about getting a busted ass-hole from having such a great, big torpedo-prick as his uncle possessed being forced into it, when he became a bit loose and relaxed and started to jerk himself off only to have his uncle wind up jerking him off instead, he also fantasized about severely caning lovely Daphne while he was being so drilled: He visualized the satisfaction he would derive at wielding the cane... the way it would swish and crack through the air hissingly then thud on bare, soft, pliable young female flesh... the way Daphne would scream and squirm in the dire throes of fire, excruciating agony... and the big, angry, swollen red welts it would raise all over the svelte, smooth flesh, all but ripping and tearing it to pieces!
Oh, joy. Oh, Heaven, young Dick reflected happily. "Such were the things that his Kingdom of Heaven was made out of!... "
So it was that when young Dick finally returned home from that memorable, unforgettable Summer sojourn spent with his Uncle Walt, he thought that he was a true "man of the World" now, and certainly a man of deep sexual experience.
Of course, in a certain sense he was, having been both scourged by his uncle and fucked in the ass several times by him, thereby certainly terminating his virginal-status in this regard, at any rate! But as for having any actual experience with a female, he really had none, except vicariously watching the goings-on between his Uncle Walt and lovely, sensuous Daphne Forbes: To be sure, besides whaling her, his uncle had done a great many things to her precious, curvaceous body-a whole diversity of them: having fucked her straight, then doggy-fashion and even in the ass-hole, too. However, watching someone else do the act was one thing, directly performing and experiencing it oneself was an entirely different matter altogether. So, for the time being, at any rate, having any real experience with a girl was still completely abstract and alien to him.
Dick returned to the junior high school which he attended, a coed one, and, in the main, stayed in his shell like the proverbial scared turtle.
He continued having his two-part fantasies, jerking himself off at night via selecting one of the pretty young things who attended the school and whom he had seen in the day-time, perhaps managing to peek up her dress to her female-finery and taking particular cognizance at the way the sheer, wispy panties would hug and cling to and outline the contours of a shapely, curvy behind.
Getting tired of just jerking himself off and wanting some definite form of action, after a whole term of doing this, young Dick became somewhat more brave and audacious He went so far as to give a girl of his choice a quick feel, a pinch, or a goose up her lilting behind on the staircase, then becoming a bit braver yet, ventured a few quick love pats on the naturally, slithering, swaying cheeks while the girl walked up the stairs.
Abruptly, Dick had this outlet cut out from the under him when an especially sexy-looking but tough broad caught him in the act, then hauled off and gave him a couple of real good slaps across his face, making his head ring and embarrassing him no end, adding still further, "insult to injury" by saying: "The next time you get fresh with me, sonny boy, I'll kick the livin' shit outa ya. You'll wish you'll be dead if you try anything again; I swear that you will, Understand, buster?" she all but snarled at him rhetorically.
And young Dick could only nod his head dumbly, then withdraw back into his shell: purely going around, watching and observing and selecting, to get fresh jerk-off material, which would be kindled and activated at night when he went to bed.
However, Dick always felt ashamed of himself whenever he jerked off. He felt that it wasn't right and a pathetic waste. He wanted to have a definite course of outlet to pop his young nuts off in: All at once, almost miraculously, he seemed to get it-at least ostensibly-when a boy who was in his class got a hooker lined up for them to visit.
He was one of those Worldly-wise, precocious boys, who was of Italian ancestry and had relatives in "Little Italy" in Lower Manhattan. It was also rumored among his school-mates that he had an uncle who was directly connected with the renowned and notorious Mafia.
In any case, whether it was through his uncle that the boy arranged to fix them up or not, was purely speculative and beside the point. The reason that the boy had done so, was because Dick, coming from a better-to-do family who could afford to give Dick a more liberal spending-allowance, had treated him to many goodies in the past, and promised to pay for both of them if he could fix them up, letting the poorer boy get his ride for free.
So it was arranged...
The hooker lived in one of those old brownstone two-story houses on Amsterdam Avenue in mid-Manhattan; it had once been a mansion many years ago but was converted into a cheap furnished rooming-house in more recent years.
The girl's name was Rita. She was of Spanish descent, big and rambunctious, and sort of a poor man's cheap Claudia Cardinale type.
All that she wore was a cheap, dirty terry-cloth robe that was carelessly sashed together, which quickly came off, and, like all kindred cheap hookers, went right to work on young Dick and was the definite aggressor when it was his turn to have her.
Everything about her definitely turned him off: the dirty way she looked and the putrid way she smelled... the rough way she fondled his cock to get him aroused-so different, say, from his more adroit, gentle uncle... then even when she blew him for a spell, she was so intense and violent, that he thought she wanted to castrate him by devouring his young prick altogether!
Filially, somehow getting up a semi hard-on, when he mounted her, young Dick became more repulsed than ever at the frantic way she moved, moaned and exuded sweat Going for a more slim, trim type such as Daphne Forbes, Rita's sort turned him off altogether, a priori, anyway. But with the addition of such anti-fetishes, young Dick's felt his cock go all the way down and become limp: He was as steamed to her as he would have been to eating a big, heaping plate filled with vomit!
After much expanded effort and many minutes had gone by, Rita, realizing that it was no use, became quite angry and definitely offended.
She lurched to her feet and call him "a young jerk."
Then, as a final gesture of the way she felt, she parted her enormous thighs, placed both hands on the outer lips of her enormous, big, black hairy twat, practically turning it inside out in his face: To Dick, the inner-lining of her cunt was so raw and red, rough and chafed, that it looked like a freshly made wound and/or big slab of roast beef gashed and slashed with a meat-axe.
The truly ironical thing was, that Dick's friend went for such a type and really was made to come quickly and pop off a mighty load.
When they were down in the street, the other boy laughed at and made fun of him, making Dick surely feel that there was something drastic wrong with him and that he was totally abnormal for not getting steamed to such a reputed dish as this one was according to his young Italian friend: "You mean, you didn't get your nuts off with somethin' big and good like that?" he inquired rhetorically, utterly incredulous.
Feeling definitely ashamed, Dick nodded his head from side to side negatively.
"Marone, what a big, good piece, and what a good worker, too," his friend gushingly enthused. "Man, could she suck a cock. And you didn't go for her? You couldn't pop off?" he asked again.
"No, she's not my type," Dick tried to explain.
"Marone, that one is anybody's 'type'-a big, good, juicy piece like that A guy has gotta cream over the likes of her; he's just gotta. Why, I shot my whole load for a week, and then some."
"Well, I didn't If anything, she turned me off, so that I didn't want to do it at all. She repulsed me."
"Well, Man, you must be a real queer; somethin' must be wrong with you not to get steamed over that."
This made Dick flush even more suffusely and feel utterly routed with confusion.
"Then again," his friend quickly tried to save Dick's face matter-of-factly, " 'it's no skin off o' my back;' I got in my licks-enough for the both of us. And to think you paid for it all, too. Ah-ha-ha-ha," he guffawed gleefully, becoming carried away anew, to laugh at his generous friend's expense. "Ah-ha-ha-ha!" he guffawed again, more emphatically than ever.
As for poor Dick, he felt like digging himself a hole in the ground and jumping in, then burying himself, he was so ashamed, humiliated and disgusted with himself!...
For several weeks thereafter, young Dick was so despondent that he gave up thinking about sex altogether. However, with a young boy just going on fourteen, the inevitable happened, and his libido became reactivated again: He reverted back to those two-part anal-fantasies he previously had, making a definite ritual and compulsion out of them.
And not having any other actual outlet at present but looking at the girls in school to derive fresh jerk-off material with them pulling on his dummy at night as he thought about them while his uncle perennially humped him in the ass, even though he was absent, Dick was made to feel more inhibited and frustrated than ever: Yes, he was truly the proverbial turtle now who had completely withdrawn its head all the way inside of its shell, for fear of once again stepped upon by someone in the cruel-outside World: Oh, horror of horrors!...
CHAPTER SIX
Although the slapping of his face for his mild audacity by that tough girl at school and his rather ill-fated escapade with Rita, the rambunctious hooker, could certainly be considered as minor traumas in young Dick's life, nevertheless, he still clung to the two-part anal-ritual which he had evolved ever since it had been innovated due to his Uncle Walt: It took a major trauma, of drastic dimensions, to make him relinquish this said two-part anal-ritualistic-compulsion of his-to deeply repress it into the lowest depths of his Id-for many years to come. And this was due to another close relative of his-Dick's older sister, Harriet-who brought this major trauma about, even if she did so rather inadvertently: Harriet Kingsley was a tall, dark sultry girl, who had pert features but a rather broad mouth, and a deceptively shapely, curvy body. She was somewhere in her mid-twenties at the time and distinctly on the Mary Tyler Moore type.
While she was rather a bright,, intelligent girl and a deeply emotionally expressive one as well and undoubtedly would have made a fine actress in the theater, in the grand Kingsley tradition, for her own part, Harriet Kingsley deeply scorned her entire previous heritage and held it in the utmost contempt, viewing the whole lot of them as a bunch of hopeless, utterly incorrigible Libertine-Bohemians: The real paradox of this view was, that in reality, in the main, the Kingsleys were typical middle-class people, with a corresponding set of values. Her own parents were typical. Of course, there was occasionally an exception down through the years, with Walter being the current black sheep of the family. But he still was "the exception who proved the rule."
For her own part, Harriet made up her mind to vastly differentiate herself from all of her forbearers, and to live a truly average, normal life. With this avowed purpose in mind, it specifically took the form of getting married to an average joe, get her belly bloated with windrows of brats, settle down and live a most dreary, thoroughly domesticated existence, without any of the obtrusive fanfare.
As had been pointed out just before, Harriet, in the main, mistook "the trees for the great big forest," meaning: to be sure, her parents and all of the Kingsley clan, without a single exception, had their exaggerated theatrics and little personal idiosyncrasies. The very nature of being in the theater, appearing on stage, presented the requisite of being somewhat narcissistic and correspondingly individualistic in small matters of the expressed personality: For that matter, Harriet also had such personal nuances, in the main having the outward veneer of being tough, hardened and knowing. She considered herself a good sport, quite liberal and could take a dirty joke as good as any man But she knew where to draw the line when it came to maneuvers in the proverbial boudoir if and when a given fellow "tried to get too fresh" with her: Actually, this was the very same sort of personality that both Mary Tyler Moore, the actress she most closely physically approximated in both face and body, and Ginger Rogers came across with to their audiences whenever they performed.
As Dick recalled it now many years later, to listen to Harriet gallivant around with her condescending airs to the rest of them and make her pronouncements about her trite, hackneyed view of life, she declared them all with such an emotional fervor, that one would be led to think that she was embarking upon her own personal crusade and/or revolution.
His sister also "had the patience of a Saint," insofar as she was courted by a whole diversity of fellows, since she was a highly attractive girl whom any red-blooded man would want to plow into. But she was ultra-selective and bided her time until the so-called "right one" came along for her. And Dick had to concede, that she made a very good choice for a stud, also a fellow dull and boring enough to live out her way of life with: His name was Pete Roan. He was somewhere around 30 at the time he first courted her. Roan had a face that seemed to be etched out of granite, with a powerful barrel-chested body to match. Realizing that he was naturally uncouth and illiterate, Roan chose to be soft-spoken, and until he felt free to loosen up, weighed his words before he spoke at all: However, he couldn't be contained for very long, being the perennial "Hairy Ape," which William Bendix so memorably portrayed in the movies some years ago alongside of Susan Hayward, and whose type he most closely resembled.
So it was, that at the outset of their relationship, Roan courted Harriet as if she were a true Fairy Princess-that it was irrefutable he was beneath her feet in breeding and status-and in his fumbling, bungling way, acted the role of the perfect gentleman as best he could.
Since his obtrusive state of confusion was clearly manifest to Harriet and made her feel definitely superior, instead of deeply resenting Roan and feeling ashamed of him whenever her parents had the audacity to suggest, "that he was far beneath her," and, "she could do much better in the way of a choice for marriage," Harriet would hasten to this defense with the fury of a wild tigress.
When it came to making maneuvers in the boudoir, Roan was one of those plodders-a slow, methodical type-who slowly but surely managed to get his way with the opposite sex, providing the given girl was steamed to him and his basic type: And that, Harriet Kingsley certainly was!
They almost always went on these erotic-maneuvers in the downstairs living room of the Kingsley home. Their parents were away at the time, appearing with a road company who were traveling through the country, doing a highly successful situation-comedy. They both had character-parts.
Since young Dick, like most young boys, came and went constantly, it was almost inevitable that he would catch them fooling around sooner or later. Besides which, there was a natural alcove provided in the foyer with a section of wall on each side of an open doorway, where he could quietly stay and watch the proceedings as they progressed.
Roan, who was one of those hard-hat construction-workers by trade, bided his time. At first, he was content merely to kiss and feel Harriet up a bit on the sofa where they sat in juxtaposition. It was truly pathetic when he attempted to soul-kiss her, slobbering whole wads of his tobacco-juice-saliva strewing them all over her pert, demure face.
From there, after several dates, he progressed to getting his big hams for hands under her top garments and at the underthings, feeling her tits and even getting to place his hand quickly over her belly and slide down to her warm raven-black plum-pudding for a delectable twat, although it was still camouflaged and concealed from his naked touch by the layer of material over them from the sheer, wispy panties.
It was precisely at this conjecture, that Harriet started to protest and decided "to put her foot down," as they say: "Pete, stop. Don't," she lightly admonished him, as she abruptly drew away from his grasping reach.
"Huh?" he retorted, deliberately playing dumb. "Why? What's wrong, baby?"
"Oh, nothing, Pete," Harriet had to admit. "At least, not yet, there isn't. But, if you keep on, there certainly will be."
"Yeah, you're right," he conceded. "It's just that I'm so crazy for you, baby, that I become a bit carried away at times. But I promise to be real careful" Then, after issuing this verbal-assurance, Pete Roan resumed his love-making: And, one thing Dick had to grant in his favor, even upon this late date,-as crude and uncouth a boor as he was-Roan never turned back. Once he achieved a beach-head on sultry Harriet's body, he refused to stubbornly relinquish it, persistently going from one erotic-plateau to the next-biding his time until he got into her drawers with his urgent cock completely.
The next step was getting her tits out altogether and being permitted to play with them. A really big deal was made out of this startling innovation by Harriet, and she played the same broken record as before, with Roan rendering the same sort of harmony as previously, also.
At this conjecture, she fought him tooth-and-nail. Nevertheless, he finally established this beach-head, and even ultimately got her to jerk him off a bit as well, by placing her hand over the front of his pants where his mighty prick was located: And even though inside the pants, Dick was flabbergasted, as the cock appeared truly monstrous-one that would certainly befit either a horse or an elephant. And such a supposition turned out to be startlingly correct, Dick later ascertained!
The ultimate objective for Roan at the time with Harriet was reached when he finally got her to strip down raw and let him dry-hump her. But even after she permitted him such an extreme, for her, liberty, she absolutely insisted that he keep all of his own clothes on, not even allowing him to take down his pants and dry hump her in his drawers-for fear that his elephantine-cock might somehow slip out and get between her legs.
Actually, it would have taken a virtual derrick to wedge Harriet's legs apart, as she kept her thighs closely locked together even before Roan, having mounted her, began rhythmically rising and falling with his powerful bulk thrust against her.
Seeing her stark naked, Dick was surprised to find that his older sister had a real nice body-one that was truly befitting a professional show-girl: with her firm gourds for tits that were neither too big nor too small, a flat-lined tummy, a high, upthrust, dimpled, rounded behind, and long, shapely legs, topped off by that raven-black, triangular-shaped crow's nest for a succulent dish of cuntal plum-pudding: Yum-yum! Dick inwardly howled with glee.
After a few moments of rather lightly rising and falling against her relatively frail and diminutive entity, Roan, growling like a savage and completely carried away in the heat of his passion, would thump resoundingly against her like a mighty steam-roller that was ramming and pulverizing her, with the intent of squashing her and flattening her out altogether.
But Harriet had surprising resilience and agility, wrapping those long streamlined gams of hers around his waist to slow him down, then twisting and turning and undulating upward, working her pretty, now swollen and hard gourds for tits into his chest and her velvety-smooth flat-lined belly into him as well. So it was, that she was more "busting his hump," than the reverse.
Then, even though he had all his clothes on, watching Roan growl and rise and fall ferociously, while his sister tried blending into him to become an integrated love-unit but at the same time impeding him from going the definite limit, still made the tableau look terrifyingly real to the state of full-blown intercourse to young Dick: And it got him steamed, too: Truth to tell, upon this late date, he didn't know which got him more: the alluring appeal of his older sister and his desire to fuck her even though she was his sister, or Roan's manliness and animalistic ferocity, with special emphasis on that elephantine-cock of his, which young Dick would have enjoyed being rammed up his own itchy ass-hole such as his Uncle Walt had previously done?
In any case, it was a two-way stimuli which really got young Dick wild, and compelled him to take his cock out and jerk himself off.
He tried to be extra careful not to make any noise. But about the third time that he was a witness to these dry-humping sessions, he forgot himself and became careless, especially since he was being carried away on a particularly terrific wave of passion over the animated proceedings.
Roan, who had the keen hearing of a wild animal, quickly detected the origin of the source of the strange sounds, lurched to his feet, and with long, lithe strides, made his way across the room, where Dick was lurking: "Uh-huh," he exclaimed knowingly, simultaneously grabbing the terrified and confused figure of young Dick by the scuff of the neck-much as he might have seized some unruly little kitten.
Then holding him dangling in mid-air like some toy rag-doll, Roan brought this prize he had captured over to where Harriet was still lying, in a semi-sprawled position on the sofa-.
"Look what I got here, Harriet," Roan declared proudly.
Truth to tell, to this very day, Dick didn't know who was more humiliated and confused, his sister or himself?
There he was, with his cock sticking out, having an obtrusive hard-on over her.
Whereas, there she was, stark naked, covered with a distinct down of perspiration from all the feverish dry-humping she had been doing with Roan. Besides which, now that he had been brought close to her as he was, Dick could clearly detect the unmistakable and inimitable cheesy-fishy smell of woman, from the passion-juices she had been made to exude.
"So how do you like this, Harriet doll?" Roan queried. "The very nerve of the Little Devil!"
Trying desperately to get back her own bearings and composure, she murmured by way of agreement: "Yes, Pete, I'm very much afraid that young Dick, here, is turning out to be the worst and most depraved of all the Kingsley clan."
"Not only was the little rascal spyin' on us and what we were doin' together, but he was playin' with his yo-yo, to boot. So, how do you like that, Harriet doll, huh?"
"It's terrible-absolutely awful."
"What he needs is a good, sound lickin' on his bare ass with a strap, if you ask me," Roan declared testingly, to see precisely how Harriet would receive such a proposal.
And, to Roan's utter surprise and delight, Harriet readily acquiesced: "Yes, Pete, you're right; he does need to be properly punished for his... sins. Perhaps, by doing that, will teach him the lesson he needs to turn out right, instead of in the awful direction he is presently heading in," Harriet mused, more thinking-out-loud than directly addressing her boy-friend.
Upon hearing this, young Dick became really desperate and frantic now. He tried to prevail upon his sister for some mercy, his main contention, being: "But, Sis, I am your very own flesh-and-blood."
However, it was all to no avail, Not only did she agree for Roan to scourge him, but even assisted him in getting Dick's pants and drawers down, then holding him by the ankles for the entire duration that Roan savagely wielded that big, thick and heavy, doubled-up strap of his.
After having doubled-up the ominous-looking strap and just prior to wielding it, Roan announced to young Dick harshly and sinisterly: "All right, pretty boy, now to give you your just desserts-what you've probably had com in' to you for a good long time."
With that, he began lashing out with the strap: It hissed and swished and cracked through the air like a most animated, frantic snake.
From the very outset, it hurt Dick, cutting deeply and cruelly: It felt to him comparable to the way a surgeon's scalpel might feel, only one that was red-hot, and with the flames ever mounting and being fanned by ever additional cutting heat. So that it wasn't long before young Dick was yelping his head off in pain, and trying to squirm away to elude the terrible strap which took its constant toll of fire and fury on his bare, young behind.
But all to no avail, as his sister kept on clutching his ankles tenaciously, to make him stay put and take the full brunt of Roan's pent-up wrath and rage.
As it turned out, it was a far worse ordeal than young Dick had endured at the hands of his Uncle Walt, when he had caned him that time: True, taken in the abstract, the teakwood walking-stick, loaded with lead and tipped with silver, was a far worse implement However, his uncle had caned him quite coldly and deliberately; he had never done so in wrath-nor was he anywhere near as strong and powerful as the hard-hat construction-worker, that Pete Roan, was.
No, his Uncle Walt had never cut him with the cane, putting the full weight and strength of his shoulder behind a given cut. Rather, he just administered enough force and cuts on young Dick's rump as he felt were necessary, to teach him a lesson and make him "straighten up and fly right" in his acting lessons. So it was done purely for his own good.
But not with this Pete Roan person: He was one of those roaring, raging, uncouth bulls who didn't have the inkling of intelligence necessary to have mercy and empathy for another person, and the terrible pain he might be enduring.
If anything, he was like a feeble-minded fighter endowed with a killer-instinct, bent on finishing his prey once he got him cornered and his hard, heavy fists began to go to work.
Swish, crack-thud, the lashed sounded and continued to sound, the awful sounds swelling and filling the confines of the acoustically-sensitive room, until Dick thought that his very ear-drums would burst.
Roan lashed him all over, too-not just on the cheeks of his behind-but also on the tender arced-creases and the slabs that were the backs of the thighs, as well.
Then when young Dick's flesh was really riddled and full of those angry red welts all over his backside, Roan returned from whence he came-to the cheeks of the already thoroughly scourged, red-hot, blistering, burning behind-caught his second-wind, and lashed out at his rump more savagely and ferociously than ever.
Truth to tell, Dick didn't know how many actual cuts he received with the strap by an actual count. He only knew that it far exceeded, by at least three-four-fold, the number his Uncle Walt had given him with the cane.
And, by the time the ordeal reached its culmination, Dick ended up flat on his face, a burbling, gurgling, utterly incoherent mass of dire terror, pain and excruciating anguish, so that he was on the verge of full-blown hysteria.
His sister relinquished her tight grip on his ankles, and they both left him alone, to cry himself out.
This took many minutes! When his sobbing finally subsided and he was able to speak, both of them expected him to call them vile names and hurl angry incrimination at them for what they just had done to him-the cruel, terrible way they had cut up his entire backside-ripping and tearing it to pieces. So imagine both of their surprise when he uttered aloud coaxingly: "Now that you're done beating me, Mr. Roan, why don't you properly finish off the job that you've started on me?" queried Dick.
"Huh?" Roan muttered, not realizing at all what Dick wanted from him.
"Yes, why don't you ream me in my behind and give me an enema now? After all, you did say I was a 'pretty boy,' didn't you?"
Hearing these illicit words made Pete Roan bellow and roar like an angry bull-more enraged than ever: Roan was one of those men who were repressed homosexuals, in the sense that he thought that he was one of those hundred percent masculine-males, leaving no room for fooling around with his own sex, at any time, in any way whatsoever. No, Roan' was super-duper masculine, and that's all there was to it: Of course, as the great Freud pointed out and reiterated countless times; "No male, be as ever so masculine, is a hundred percent masculine. He isn't, nor could he be. Nay, it wasn't even desirable for any male to be that" So after overcoming his initial rage, Roan bellowed aloud: "Do you hear that, Harriet? Do you hear what the little snot-nose just said and asked of me, huh?"
"Yes, I heard,' " Harriet sighed resignedly. "He's turning out to be the most debased and depraved of all the Kingsley clan-the very, very worst!"
"Well, I'll fix him up," Roan threatened ominously. "I'll put an end to his shit. I'm goin' to go in the kitchen, get me a sharp knife and cut his tool off for 'im. That's what I'm goin' to do, Harriet doll" Taking his threat quite seriously, even stark naked as she was, Harriet lurched to her feet and raced after Roan who was already walking in long, lithe strides to the kitchen: "No, Pete, no-ooo," she moaned. "Please, I beg of you not to do this."
Harriet then talked rapidly, doing her utmost to prevail upon his reason. Her main argument was: "that if you do this terrible thing, you'll probably kill him and have to go to jail Then we'll never be able to get married."
Although it took quite some bickering and convincing and even outright cajoling on Harriet's part, she finally made her boor of a boy-friend "see the light."
Thus, young Dick was spared from his most horrible of Fates.
But even so, his wrath for his sister hadn't diminished the least iota. He still had it in for her, not only for having consented to let Roan whip and cut up his ass with that awful strap of his, but had actually lent her assistance in helping him to perpetrate the foul deed.
So young Dick had it in her.
He vowed to himself that some day, he would get even, by giving Harriet the same ill-treatment-a comparable lashing to the one he had received on that day. Only, he also vowed that he would be far more generous than her boy-friend, Pete Roan was with him: He would drill her somehow in that high, curvy, dimpled ass of hers: He would, he would-he surely, surely WOULD!...
CHAPTER SEVEN
So it was due to this severe trauma and its inherent castration-anxiety that the nature of young Dick's two-part anal-ritualistic-compulsion drastically changed and underwent a distinct metamorphosis: Actually, it became condensed and one-fold. Now, all that young Dick thought and jerked-off about was, spanking pretty young girls' saucy behinds for them, in general, and his sister Harriet's ass in particular.
On purely a conscious-level, the motive he rationalized that he harbored such deep anger and hate for his sister was, that she had not only given her open, expressed approval of his being severely scourged by Pete Roan, but had actually assisted him in perpetrating the foul, awful task: This was partly true.
But on a deeper strata of his unconscious-mind, the real underlying motive was, that he had competed for Pete Roan's affection with his own behind in opposition to his older sister's and, Roan distinctly preferred the latter.
As a matter-of-fact, he had become so enraged at such a suggestion and, what he considered to be, an overt challenge to his intense masculinity, that he had seriously threatened to go get a knife and castrate young Dick altogether: That Harriet had intervened and saved Dick from suffering such a terrible Fate, went for absolutely zero in young Dick's mind, which clearly indicated how nefarious and subtle the unconscious mind, with its whole network of instincts-both of the id and aggression-worked and overwhelmed the conscious one.
Then too, the castration-threat was so vivid and terrible, that it led to severe repression and Dick giving up his desire for anal erotic fulfillment altogether: He wanted to be fucked in the ass by some big, strong Caveman-he-man, yes, but not if it meant also getting his precious prick cut off in the process!
Funny thing, Dick mused upon this later date, with him having been personally Psychoanalyzed and also with his great intellectual knowledge of the subject: when his mother had issued the castration-threat, having caught him "playing with his nookie," threatened to tell his father about "the evil, sinful thing he had done," and, "he would surely cut his nookie off for him!" Dick took such a threat very lightly and purely as a joke.
But not with the likes of a Pete Roan, did he take it as that. For Roan truly epitomized "the cruel, all-powerful father" who ruled over "the primal horde" which Freud constantly postulated in all of his anthropological works of applied-Psychoanalysis and meta-psychology.
No, there was no doubt in Dick's mind, that such a type as Roan, when challenged as the all-powerful primal father, wouldn't hesitate to blind, castrate or kill any and all of his rivals for rule over his accumulated harem-which meant, all of the women that comprised any given primal-horde.
Feeling philosophically-bent for the moment, Dick now mused: Funny, how much Time and Space separated present-day "civilized-man" from his Caveman-ancestry, and yet, in reality, how close they really were: Man hadn't come a long way at all, Only the thinnest of veneers separated the two phases of mankind's total existence-especially where the likes of such a primitive, barbarian-boor as a Pete Roan was concerned!
Last but not least in this connection, it should be pointed out the underlying motivation for the type of girls that Dick almost invariably went for: He preferred them tall, supple and thin, as distinctly opposed to their being short, rambunctious, if not outright fat: Now consciously, he thought it was pure and simple because this type was more streamlined, cleaner and neater, and correspondingly more desirable to most men, as a basic type. Whereas, in reality, since he was tall and slim himself, he chose such a type as a Narcissistic-choice of a love-object. And, even at that, said choice was negative, since he wanted to spank it and cause it pain, instead of bestowing his love and affection upon it!
Thus, "the nature of the libido is always conservative," as the great Freud constantly pointed out. meaning in this connection: that, in the final analysis, Dick was still competing for the favors of his Uncle Walt and Pete Roan, as distinct prototypes-especially the latter-and never forgave his older sister, Harriet, for having ostensibly emerged triumphant over him in this most pertinent and highly crucial regard.
So, still carrying the old grudge just as vociferously as ever-both consciously and unconsciously-Dick waited, lurked and bided his time, until the proper opportunity arose for him to get Harriet where he wanted her, so that he could spank her high, upthrust, bouncy ass, but good-wreak total and utter vengeance for all the shame and humiliation, hurt and dire anguish that had been perpetrated on him that time, by Roan, in direct conjunction with her willing assistance.
Yes, like the fabled historical-figure of Ali Pasha, he could also wait and bide his time-even if it took the stipulated "thirty years period" which Pasha had postulated that he was willing to wait to get revenge on his enemy-those men who had wronged him!...
Strictly speaking, it took the better part of two whole years before young Dick, assuming the role of the proverbial spider, finally got his designated fly in his nefarious web.
But, more than anything else, it was due to Harriet Kingsley, herself, and change in attitude, as to having a proper set of values in life.
Since she had many friends, who were squares just like she was, but members of the upper-middle-class, it suddenly began to dawn on her, precisely the contention that her parents had presented all along: If she wanted to get married and live a thoroughly domesticated existence, she didn't have to accept a Pete Roan-not such a pretty, charming and intelligent girl as she was.
No, she could get a fellow who was better-off financially and far more polished, sophisticated and sensitive to the intellectual, esthetic, cultural values.
After all, she had seen some of her girl-friends and their husbands-how they lived. It was almost invariably in some fifty-thousand-dollar house of their own in the suburbs, replete with the entire ludicrous Modern-decor and all its trimmings, including Abstract, meaningless paintings and curio-objects, at least two late-model cars in the garage, and a windrow of brats, with last but not least, ample spending money and charge-accounts at the very best stores in town: From such things are the Kingdom of Heaven postulated and formulated in a middle-class female's mind.
So with utter logic and simplicity, Harriet asked herself the most pertinent of all questions: "Why couldn't she get a fellow like that and have such wonderful material possessions, too? After all, she was every bit as good-looking and charming as any of her circle of girl-friends was-if not, indeed, a whole lot better."
Once such a monumental, momentous decision was reached in her life by her, Harriet didn't hesitate to act.
Taking that old maxim given by the sages down through the ages for counsel, namely: "Seek and ye shall find!" Harriet went out and found: At least, she was introduced to a promising prospect by one of her middle-class, suburban girl-friends: His name was Malcolm Crowe. He was tall, slim and well-mannered, although he had the sharp, aquiline features of a wolf, with a trim little mustache to top this countenance all off. Crowe came from a family of means, and was a corporation lawyer on the upgrade.
As for Harriet, she went for his looks, and the way he acted toward her-so polished, polite and debonair. They seemed to share precisely the same cultural and intellectual interests, as well-or lack of them-and, most important of all, he seemed definitely interested in her for marriage.
True, Crowe had been around quite a bit, and got fast at times, especially when on maneuvers on the sofa in the living room of the Kingsley home. He seemed to deceptively be intent on getting into her drawers, with no waste of time.
So even though Harriet was on her guard and intent on thwarting him from achieving this cherished male-objective, he operated so fast, smooth and slick, that she would find herself in a state of semi-dishevelment before she even knew it, and he would be busy trying to ram his cock in-between her long, streamlined legs: But Harriet invariably "put the lock on her pussy." It wasn't really that she was so prudish anymore, having long since lost her virginal-status. It was just that she didn't want to take any unnecessary chances of losing out with Malcolm Crowe altogether in marriage. She wanted to be sure that he realized she was "a nice girl" And, that, he surely must have, as, once being placed on her guard, Harriet would become definitely peevish and standoffish where Crowe was concerned, if he made any advance past merely kissing her, whatsoever: For example, if he should try to extract a tit from the bodice of her dress, play and fondle with it lightly a bit, Harriet would instantly draw away, exclaiming rather peevishly: "No, Mai. Please don't You mustn't" Taken back a bit but still managing to maintain his smooth, glib manner and composure, Crowe would ask of her in return: "Why not, my dear? Why 'mustn't I' "
"Because you mustn't; that's all"
"But really, can I help it, my dear," Crowe would stoutly contend, "if I find you so lovely and charming-so captivating and utterly irresistible-that I become a bit... carried away, can I?"
"No, I guess not," Harriet would have to admit "But surely you must realize, that I'm human and have feelings, too."
"Meaning, precisely what, my dear?" Crowe would prod.
"Well, you effect me strongly, too, you see."
"Well, that's welcome news," Crowe would comment, a bit jubilantly. "Do tell me more, my dear."
"Well, sometimes, you so overwhelm me, Mai, that I'm inclined to forget myself and lose my head. And I don't want that to happen for anything."
"No, that would really be a tragedy of the greatest magnitude, my dear," Crowe murmured, with just a trace of sarcasm manifest in his voice.
Nevertheless, with typical female-cunning that almost all of her species-with hardly an exception-seem to be endowed by Mother Nature with, Harriet achieved her two-fold objective: On one hand, she thwarted him and stopped him in his tracks from becoming too overbearing and persistent in his advances.
On the other hand, she also inflated his male-ego, by indicating that she went for him-was aroused by him and, thereby made him at least intellectually content, if not physically so: Actually, this was quite an achievement on Harriet's part, since Malcolm Crowe was really a fellow who had been around, despite his seeming innocence: He had plowed into many a divorcee of whose cases he had privately handled on the side.
And he also had his way with many semi-hookers-such as call and party girls, and girls who were in show business-had sought his rather expensive legal-advice, but didn't have the ready means to pay for it, so he "took it out in trade."
Yes indeed, this was quite an achievement on Harriet Kingsley's part-"to keep a man like him dangling on a string"-"with his tongue hanging out," and him still being sufficiently interested to keep on seeing her and actually seriously considering her as a prime prospect for marriage!...
It was John Steinback, more than anybody else, who popularized that wise, old maxim in his great American short-novel, Of Mice and Men: "That the best plans of mice and men often go astray."
So it was with sultry Harriet Kingsley. Such a saying was most apropos to describe the course of her adult-life: There she was, at the very outset, going steady with Pete Roan strictly because she intended to marry him and thereby permit her to live a normal, average life. But, in the final analysis, she ended up as his steady piece of ass, and she had no intention of every marrying him whatsoever now.
Strange, the ironic tricks and twists that Life plays at times! Dick mused, when thinking about his sister's plight.
Stranger still, Dick thought, was that Roan was the one who was the privileged male to take her precious cherry away: Who would have ever thought such a thing possible? Dick reflected on a rhetorical-note.
After all, to terminate a girl's virginity and take away her cherry, took the utmost tact, delicacy and finesse endowments which that big, calloused Caveman-boor that clumsy, bungling, stumbling oaf certainly wasn't endowed with. No, he was truly "the bull in a china-shop" when it came to his dealing with women. Nevertheless, he was the one who had accomplished such an achievement.
So how was it possible? Dick couldn't help but ask, when he was fully mature, had been Psychoanalyzed, and understood the involved intricacies of such matters: First of all, the human-mind was a tricky thing. People like to kid themselves. So why whould his older sister, Harriet, be any different? Just because she was his sister?
No, that was childish idolizing and definitely erroneous.
Rather, perhaps it was, all along, that Harriet, being such a highly-charged emotional-creature that she was, unconsciously craved a lover, and went for this great big Caveman-type, because she was a dire Masochist underneath it all, and also craved a strong, strict father-image to look up to and give her the necessary discipline that she had lacked in her upbringing in her own life and formative-years.
Taken in this light, made a great deal of sense to Dick. Yes, she very well might have tricked herself and bided her time with Roan, until she was really serious for marriage, and with a prospect that was more intellectually and financially suitable for her.
Then too, now that she had her sights set on Malcolm Crowe for marriage, Roan, who had been going steady with her for more than three years and who ostensibly loved her and wanted to marry her, must surely feel letdown. So feeling pangs of guilt for wasting so many years of his life, Harriet gave him her precious cherry and pussy as a reward, to properly compensate him.
Last but not least in this connection, Dick concluded his speculations about Harriet, credit should go to Roan, himself: To be sure, Dick might not like him and even deeply resent him. And he undoubtedly was a big, fumbling, stumbling oaf-one that was as coarse, crude and calloused as they only come. Nevertheless, he was persistent and methodical in making his advances toward Harriet. Said advances might have seemed ludicrous, but he kept right on ever moving forward-until he managed to work his way inside her drawers altogether!...
Dick would never forget that very first time Roan managed to plow into Harriet and take her precious cherry away-not even if he lived to be a hundred!
In order to thwart him from spying on them-since he had been caught doing so in the living room-they went up to Harriet's bedroom. But there, Dick was provided even a better vantage-point in which to view the proceedings, as the roof flattened out at just this particular junction of the house-directly in front of and adjoining Harriet's bedroom. Since this section of the roof was quite wide, Dick could sprawl himself out, lying flat, full-length, without having any worry about falling off.
On this momentous occasion. Roan had been fooling around and making his customary fumbling, slobbering advances toward the naked, palpitating form of sultry Harriet, as a direct prerequisite to dry-humping her, as was their usual custom for a mutual outlet.
All at once, it was Harriet who asked for it, moaning aloud: "Take me, Pete darling; oh, take me-eee. Take me all the way."
Roan was so dumbfounded, that he was stopped in his very tracks at all he was doing, to reply testingly: "Huh? What's this you say, doll?"
"You heard me correctly, Pete darling. I want you to seduce me." (Harriet would never condescend to use such a terrible, nasty word as "fuck.") "Take me all the way."
"You're sure you want me to do this, doll?" Pete inquired, with a definite compunction of doubt manifest in his voice. "You won't be sorry later?"
"No, definitely not. It's my wish that you take me and have me, Pete darling-right here and now!" Harriet declared emphatically.
"Very well, doll, Pete retorted, still somewhat skeptical-thinking that there was "some kind of catch in it,"
"Your wish is my command."
With that, Roan plowed into her comparatively frail, diminutive form.
It was truly a horrible sight to see, Dick recollected with a shiver.
Roan didn't bother with any further foreplay as a prerequisite. Since Harriet's raven-black twat was already glistening with a coating of pre-secretion, Roan merely took his elephantine-cock and shoved it squarely in to the awaiting outer-labia-lips of her hot, quivering snatch: It was comparable to sticking a pig in a slaughter-house, the thrust was so savage and ferocious!
Harriet screamed shrilly for all she was worth.
But Roan, really gone now, roared like a lion, clutching the firm svelte cheeks of her ass to bring her in closer to him and make her stay put. Then he kept right on pumping away, as hard and fast as he only could.
To Dick's utter horror now, not only did Harriet continue to yelp more tremulously than ever, but a slow pile of spurting blood accumulated on the sheet.
For a fraction of a moment, Dick, now knowing the true physiological-source at the time of Harriet's bleeding, thought that she was really hurt-even dying-and felt like rushing in there and somehow stopping it.
But alas, being a coward by nature, he realized he would only be giving himself away, probably get another savage strapping at Roan's big, calloused hands, and even wind up getting his cock cut off, just as Roan had threatened he would do the other time.
So reason prevailed upon Dick to stay put: It also finally prevailed with the jungle beast who was Pete Roan, as Harriet, with all her pleading and cajoling, saying over and over again, "how much he was hurting her," managed to make him desist.
When Roan removed his enormous bulk, Dick saw that it left a real mess on the bedding, and it took quite some time before Harriet overcame her palpitations sufficiently to be able to clean up-both the bedding and herself; especially the latter was hard to do, as somehow, the bleeding refused to stop, even though Roan had been through ramming her cunt for quite some time now!...
It was the better part of two weeks before they got together in the bedroom again for another humping-session: No doubt, it was due to Harriet's cunt being too sore and chafed, along with her fear of being freshly hurt such as she was the first time.
Then, when they did get together, for the next couple of sessions that Dick was privileged to witness, both partners were stiff and awkward, and certain natural adjustments had to be made by Harriet, as a direct prerequisite before they could even think of enjoying themselves in the jazzing-act So these tableaus were more hilarious and funny than interesting to Dick.
But finally, Harriet was sufficiently relaxed and they had become acclimated to each other's idiosyncrasies enough for themselves to let go and really swing: And, Dick was amazed to find, that it was his sister who was really the more passionate and frenzied one of the two: This made him truly amazed. He didn't think she had it in her, always acting so high and mighty and prudish around the house to all of them. Then too, a kid brother never thought of his older sister as being passionate, even if she was, in truth, a total nymphomaniac.
In any case, invariably, after Roan had culminated his initial bungling, slobbering advances to get them somewhat warmed up and steamed, it would be Harriet who would take the direct initiative away from Roan: Being far more graceful and sensitive by nature, she would adroitly kiss and soul-kiss him.
Not only that, but she would soothingly stroke his back for him, fondle and caress his balls, even take up his enormous cock in her hands, playing with it and jerking on it.
Then when Roan would be really stiff and ready-at "the point of no return"-Harriet would lie back, passive and still, permitting him to mount her and start pumping away.
But once his powerful bulk was really rising and falling with a definite rhythm and cadence to his thrusts, it would be Harriet who would once again take the initiative away from the rough hard-hat construction-worker: She would thrust her own now tepid, hard gourds for tits up and into his matted, hairy barrel-like chest, her satiny-smooth belly also into his, and wrap her long, strong, streamlined legs around his waist, working him hard.
Her raven-black crow's nest for a snatch would twitch and quiver and draw. All of her supple, sinewy entity seemed to be in a demonic frenzy, with little snakes rippling and dancing-particularly in her belly and tapered slabs for thighs-pushing up into him and undulating all of her being emphatically, as her black snatch would rotate and gyrate like the razor-sharp blades of a lawn-mower.
Roan would grunt and groan for a time, feeling completely overwhelmed and routed by her wild passion. But somehow capturing a second-wind and renewed, surging strength, he would finally prevail: He would seize both cheeks of her curvy, dimpled, firm ass with his big, strong, calloused hands, twisting and wrenching at them until he practically inverted them inside out. Then, working both inverted mounds as if they were a pair of cow's teats, he pumped into her with long, deep, savage thrusts.
To Dick, it appeared as if either a miniature elephant was bent on trampling his poor, helpless sister to death, or as if a mighty steamroller was going over her, crushing her completely.
All at once, Harriet would be seized with spasms. Her whole supple, sinewy frame would seem to jack-knife and convulse. Roan would moan, indicative of his coming with a terrific load. Then Harriet would, seconds later, echo him, coming with a terrific load of maiden-juice, for her own part.
Even after they had finished coming and all of the bedding was thoroughly soaked and saturated with gobs of their congealed scum, the natural momentum they had worked up would keep them going for several moments thereafter, Roan's rising and falling cock making squashy, soggy noises in her still drawing and suctioning, blazing hot big black snatch.
Then, at last, Roan would withdraw, the removal of his cock, which had been so far and deep in her, sounded like the popping of the cork of a bottle of champagne: Harriet was properly fucked, all right, Dick would reflect: Fucked, but good!...
CHAPTER EIGHT
Even though Dick had all the evidence on his older sister that he only needed to coerce her into letting him soundly spank her saucy behind, still, he bided his time, anyway, as it excited him greatly to watch those frenetic humping-sessions in Harriet's bedroom: the various ways she would always get steamed and make feverish advances toward her cherished boy-friend, only to have Pete Roan, that rough, tough, calloused hard-hat, culminate the act of fucking by ramming, jamming and slamming-trampling all over her!
No, it never failed to excite Dick and provide him with a constant, steady flow of ever fresh, new jerk-off material, to which he would invariably add a spanking-fantasy when "pulling on his meat" at night, along with the quite happy thought: that such a fantasy was soon slated to become an actual reality in his young life.
Finally, young Dick became a bit weary and jaded with the humping-sessions, along with getting decisively impatient to actually get to spank his older sister. So he deliberately waited for a night that she wasn't seeing either Pete Roan or Malcolm Crowe-a Thursday night, to be exact-the one which she perennially designated every week to shampoo her hair, manicure her finger-nails, bathe and to thoroughly, completely groom herself.
Dick directed her to come in the living room with him, as he wanted to speak with her: "That it was very important."
Reluctant to break-off from doing her nails which Harriet had been busy filing, sensing the pressing urgency in his voice, she finally acquiesced.
Once he had her in there, seated on the sofa, with himself across from her, sprawled leisurely on an easy chair, Dick didn't "mince any words" or "play a cat-an'-mouse game" with her. He got right to the point and laid it all on the line: He told her precisely what he knew, and what he wanted of her, to keep his mouth shut.
After hearing him out in full, in almost complete silence, her eyes ever widening with horror and incredulity at what she was hearing-as though indeed, The Devil, himself was speaking to her-she finally managed to get her bearings sufficiently to comment aloud: "You wouldn't; you couldn't be that cruel, as to go to Malcolm Crowe and squeal on me. You couldn't be that mean and nasty, to want to ruin my whole life, being my very own flesh-and-blood-my kid brother."
"Oh no?" Dick retorted rhetorically, his tone openly jeering at her. "Well, you just try me and find out. Sis. And, not only will I go tell Crowe, but, while I'm at it, I might also go and tell Pete Roan all about Crowe and you! Then, knowing Roan's vicious temper, he very well might go and beat Crowe up, to boot. That would really fix it all up for you, Sis. Why, you might even lose out with Pete Roan as a good fucking-partner in bed. Who knows?" Dick shrugged his shoulders in a matter-of-fact gesture, smiling snidely.
"Don't you dare use such vulgar language on me, you little Devil, you. I'm not accustomed to hearing it from anybody, no less an impudent, young snot-nose like you."
"What difference does it make what you call it?" Dick shot back at her rhetorically again. "As the great Shakespeare said: 'A rose by any other name smells as sweet.' You do it with Roan; you've got an itchy pussy, and he massages it for you. So, what do you say, Sis? Which will it be? Do I get to spank your bare ass? Or do I go to your two boy-friends and squeal on you?"
Seeing that he was really earnest and wasn't just teasing her, Harriet tried to cajole with him, mainly playing on his supposed tender, brotherly feelings with: "You know I've always loved you and been good to you, Dickie boy. I've always acted in your very best interests."
"Yeah, sure, Sis," he grunted in assent. "For instance, like that time you assisted your strong-arm boy-friend, Pete Roan, in holding me down while he lashed me with that awful strap of his."
"I only did that for your own good, Dickie," Harriet whispered tensely, trying to convey both intimacy and utter sincerity to him. "I didn't want you to end up like so many of our clan. I certainly didn't do it just to hurt you, pure and simple."
"Very well, Sis. So let's say I'm going to spank your ass for the very same purpose-'for your own good.' After all, I don't want my older sister to wind up a complete little whore."
Even though she realized it was no use, she continued to plead with him, saying countless times: "Can't you forgive me, Dickie, for that time-granted I was mistaken, being so shocked and all, with your being caught with that . .thing of yours sticking out-and grant me some mercy?
And Dick, at a key interval, retorted: "Why, I already am doing that, Sis. I don't intend to use a strap on you, such as Roan did on me; just my hand. So you better hurry up before I change my mind and decide to use it anyway."
"Very well," Harriet sighed resignedly, "spank me if you must. But couldn't you at least grant me the concession of letting my clothes stay intact. Must I bare myself to you like a naughty little child? Really, it would be so embarrassing for me, Dickie, being your older sister and all."
"Why make such a big deal about that?" Dick snapped back. "You seem to be forgetting that I not only saw you stark naked countless times, but getting fucked like a rabbit by your great big stud, Pete Roan. Then too, you also saw me bare-ass-naked, when you assisted Roan in whipping my ass. So if peeling down and baring your saucy ass proves embarrassing for you, then good, I say; it makes me happy. And it's part of my retribution and punishment of you, Sis. Now, you better hurry up and get set for some bum-warming, before I change my mind and decide to use the strap on you after all."
Realizing that it was absolutely no use and all her pleas were to no avail, all the opposition seemed to ooze out of Harriet, as she apparently wanted to get the ordeal on and over with as quickly as she only could: "Very well, Dick," she murmured like some mechanical-robot, "tell me exactly what you want of me-what procedure you want me to follow."
Dick felt his heart thump as it skipped a beat: He had waited so long for this moment. And now that he was actually getting the opportunity to spank a pretty female's bare behind, he still couldn't believe that it was real. But if it was, he was inwardly overjoyed.
Actually being more frightened and bewildered than Harriet was, young Dick did his level-best to keep his true inner-feelings from becoming manifest to her. Rather, he wanted to convey the impression, that he knew exactly what it was he wanted to do and how to go about it-as if he had spanked a good number of other females before-indeed, was a veteran at conducting such an act.
Harriet, having stayed home to groom herself, was dressed quite simply, in a Scotch-plaid skirt, a frilly white blouse, and low-heeled brown moccasins, apparently to be more comfortable and at her ease around the house: So Dick had her unbutton the skirt and remove it altogether. Likewise, with the frilly white blouse. But he permitted her to leave her bra on, intact-at least, for the time-being. However, he wasn't so liberal with her wispy, sheet pink drawers, making her lower them to her very ankles, thereby baring her from the waist down completely.
Once all these prerequisites were done, he had her put out her arms, to use for an improvised pillow, placing her head on it, as she squatted down on her bended knees, with her bare, curvy bottom naturally being completely tautened and upthrust: Harriet was a girl who happened to be endowed with both a high-slung ass and cunt. So that by assuming such a position in front of the sofa where he intended to carry out the vengeful spanking, her raven-black crow's nest for a cuntal-plum-pudding protruded most obtrusively from between her thighs, but rather looking more like two firm black figs with a thin, narrow red gash for a line running through them.
His sister certainly had a neat-looking twat, Dick reflected musingly, and he felt like placing his hands on it, to fondle and caress it, prior to spanking her. However, he didn't do so, lest she "throw all caution to the wind" by becoming completely hysterical, relenting in letting him carry out the spanking after all: Perhaps there would be an appropriate time for playing and fondling with her cuntal-plum-pudding-those two neat-looking, most delectable figs of hers for outer-labia-lips-later, after the spanking was finally culminated in full, Dick made a keen mental-note of: However, such an observation became temporarily dissolved, as Dick's attention was focused on the total curvaceous, streamlined symmetry that his older sister presented-especially in the provocative position she had been placed in by him: There she was, demure head down and lilting bottom up, with her sheer, wispy drawers draped down around her ankles: A most provocative sight, indeed! Dick mused.
Actually, Harriet was just the way he would imagine Mary Tyler Moore to be under similar extenuating circumstances: Yum-yummy.
Oh, joy. Oh, Heaven! Dick fairly cooed.
Anxious to get on with the spanking itself which he had been yearning to do for so long and intensely, Dick placed his left hand in the small of Harriet's bare back, to thereby solidify her: The instant his hand made contact with her back, a most strange metamorphosis came over him: It was as though he had been dealt a terrific, jolting electric-shock, and the full impact of what he was about to do hit him squarely and completely: For one thing, he had never actually spanked any female before.
Then too, she was his older sister.
So there was a definite intermingling of guilt, with its resultant doubts.
Getting a good inner-grip on himself, he placed the left hand firmer than ever on the sleek, warm, marble-smooth back. Then he forced himself to begin spanking away with his right hand.
He did so somewhat lightly and erratically at first. However, he couldn't help but find that, to actually spank a pretty girl's bare bottom, felt even better than it looked: The given mound of flesh was so firm and curvy, tepid and dimpled. And it quivered and bounced so nicely to the touch. And, the harder you whacked it, Dick reflected, the better it felt, and the more it quivered and bounced.
So it was, that after giving Harriet some ten or twelve of these erratic cracks, did Dick start to overcome his initial feeling of shock and guilt and become carried away with the tumescence producing provocativeness and utter irresistibility of the spanking-act: From there on out, Dick spanked away steadily and evenly, working up a definite cadence and velocity of the spanks-going from one side over to the other-then right back again.
Harriet's tautened mounds of enticing flesh reddened rapidly, and soon became coated an even tincture of pink.
Although she didn't openly cry, she registered the steadily mounting fire and pain she was receiving by whimpering and sobbing softly: Actually, she was crying more from the hot shame and burning humiliation than she was from feeling any real physical-pain, as such, as Harriet had been soundly and even ferociously spanked by her boy-friend, Pete Roan, from time to time, when he was really angry with her. And he usually used a hairbrush on her. Then, even if he only used his hand, he was so much bigger and stronger and more ferocious than young Dick was, that this latest spanking was mere child's play by comparison.
But to be reduced to the humiliating state of a naughty child who was in the process of being taken across the lap of an irate parental-figure, especially when that figure was a kid brother who was only fifteen, was just too much for Harriet to psychologically bear. So she whimpered and sobbed softly, as a way of expressing her inner-feelings.
However, Dick construed this to be purely her involuntary registering of the mounting fire and pain he was doling out to her, and it stopped him in his tracks for a moment to reflect: Perhaps he should stop?
After all, she was his older sister, and he was hurting her-doing so terribly.
But, no. Why should he? It didn't seem to bother her the slightest iota when he was being so savagely and ferociously lashed with that big, thick and heavy doubled-up strap of Roan's. So why should it bother him now? Just because "the shoe was on the other foot?"
No, give it to her, he avowed.
Give it to her, but good.
Let her know-at least have some inkling-of what a good, sound spanking felt like!
Having made up his mind, Dick correspondingly upped both the tempo and velocity of the spanks-but still going from one high, curvy mound over to the other-then right back again.
The mounds of flesh bounced and quivered more frantically than ever, and soon became a deep scarlet hue. By this time, Harriet was made to audibly cry out, as the accumulated burning and tingling finally registered, and she murmured softly, trying to cajole with him: "Please, Dick Be reasonable. Stop this madness. You're really hurting me now-hurting me something aw-fulll."
"Tough, Sis," he jeered back at her mockingly. " 'Things are really tough all over!' " Then saying that, he whaled away even more savagely, finally making Harriet break down and openly cry, even though she was gnashing and grinding her teeth to prevent her from doing so.
Dick kept right on cracking away tenaciously, without neither any pause nor letup, until Harriet's entire bottom was so lividly red and ferociously hot, that it burned his very palm off to the touch.
So he decided to give her a brief respite on her saucy ass, that it may cool off a bit, and went down to the still virginal-whiteness of the tender arced-creases of flesh that acted as connecting-links between the behind and the legs, and the top of the svelte marble-like slabs that were the backs of the thighs, themselves.
His hand, though small, could encompass both a given arced-crease and the soft flesh on the top of the slab at once, simultaneously. He spanked away steadily and crisply there-still going from one side over to the other-then right back again-a half a dozen crisp, tingling spanks to each short volley.
And since the flesh was so much more tender and sensitive in this area and he was spanking her in such a focused, concentrated manner, it wasn't too long before Harriet was made to yelp and cry out even more frantically than ever.
He must had given her at least a couple of dozen good sharp cracks on each side before he terminated this aspect of tie total spanking-ordeal. And, by the time he got done with it, Harriet's flesh was every bit as stark red and hot there as was her already thoroughly scourged behind.
Really desperate and beside herself to get away from receiving any further punishment, Harriet tried to frantically squirm, thresh and writhe, thereby hoping to toss him.
However, Dick still wasn't done with her yet, and not to be denied: He removed his left hand from the small of her back after pinning her down and trapping her undulating entity between his squeezing, pinching thighs, thereby inadvertently improvising a mill-a human-mill-with his two hands serving as the rotating paddles of this stipulated human-mill: Dick whaled away with first one hand and then the other, staying on an elected side with each hand. He spanked now as hard and fast as he only could, so that the already thoroughly reddened sphere of flesh looked like frantically bouncing medicine-balls being tossed around on a public beach: "Through the mill, you go, Harriet dear," he hissed knowingly, even as he whaled away. "Through the mill!"
Dick felt himself as completely abstracted from all Time and Space. All that he now was aware of was himself-the human-mill he had erected-and the balls of her ever bouncing, quivering behind.
And, not only was the behind all red now, but there was an additional complete coating of redness on top of that, and still a' third layer of redness on top of the second one, so that the whole area of curvy flesh had the obtrusive hue of a gleaming, freshly painted fire-engine by the time he finally felt arm-weary and terminated whaling away at her.
It was precisely at this conjecture, that young Dick's attention was, once again, called to the firm black figs for outer-labia-lips protruding through the sanguinary-coated thighs: A most strange and startling metamorphosis had seemed to come over them. So it was, that while Harriet was shrieking and undulating more frantically than ever, the figs seemed to give lie to the way she really inwardly felt, as they were obtrusively twitching and quivering!
While Dick didn't know about such subtle nuances as pre-secretion, or what a clit was, where it was located and what it was for, still, from all he had seen, he intuitively sensed that Harriet was ripe to be penetrated and humped, doggy-fashion, just as his Uncle Walt had once jazzed lovely Daphne Forbes.
So Dick quickly arose to his feet, unzipped his pants, and eagerly removed his cock from inside his shorts. He already had a semi hard-on from all the torrid and intense spanking of Harriet he had done, and, by now touching it the prick soon rose to its full length.
He stole up behind Harriet, who was now down on all fours on the floor, yelping her head off and squirming around. He took careful aim and fired. He found that his throbbing cock went flush in-between the two firm black figs, falling in deep.
While Dick had entered her rather easily, being just a boy, Harriet, realizing what was happening to her, screamed tremulously for all she was worth-as if her very insides were being ferociously penetrated with a long, sharp lance. Then she managed to squeal aloud in a panting, chanting tone of voice: "No, Dick. You mustn't. Stop it Get out at once. I'm your sister, and it's terribly wrong. Spank me again some more, even, if you must, but stop this awful, horrible madness. Stop it at once; do you hear?"
Dick heard only too well, but he stubbornly refused to relinquish the foothold he had established. If anything, he tried to get even further entrenched and embedded inside of her.
Realizing it was no use-that he was an utterly depraved, debased little monster, this kid brother of hers. Harriet desperately tried to thresh and squirm around to throw him off.
But while he felt himself falter and helplessly toss around on her back-as if he was riding a berserk camel's humps-he refused to be thrown. Instead, he took definite measures to fully ensnare her: With both hands, he clutched at the bra, one hand holding it, the other snapping at the clamps in the back of it When the bra was finally loose and floating about around Harriet's tits, Dick tossed it aside altogether, made a quick lunge and grabbed at the gourds for tits with both hands: To his utter delight now, he found that the tits were tepid and hard and felt real good.
Now having her just where he wanted her, Dick pumped away, taking long, deep, deliberate thrusts.
Harriet still valiantly tried to struggle, by threshing and squirming and tossing about. But this only succeeded in adding to her provocativeness, as if made her high, upthrust ass undulate-slither, bump and grind away most emphatically and alluringly: This gave him further impetus for his already surging state of tumescence. In addition to which, there were her tepid, hard tits, the nice way her entire hot backside would feel against his thighs with each and every slamming thrust, then the way the jaws of her involuntarily aroused and throbbing snatch would grip his cock, drawing it into the innermost depths of the vagina-tube of her womb: To Dick, each and every time, it felt as if he were being generously dipped in a barrel of rich, warm honey!
Harriet continued to scream shrilly with each and every thrust: After delivering about a dozen of them, Dick felt an explosion go through him and his cock pop off, spurting like mad.
To Harriet, it seemed to effect her as if she were being executed in an electric-chair. And, even though she screamed more tremulously than ever, seconds after young Dick started to come, she answered him with gushing spurts of her own precious, vital maiden-juice, which mostly became inverted inside of her own wracked being, although a few sticky gobs became intermingled with Dick's boyish cum.
Dick kept right on pumping away, until he got every bit out-every last bit-every last drop: Being inside the jaws of a cunt felt so good to him, that he never wanted to leave it. A snatch felt so warm and smooth and drawing, it was utterly irresistible.
No, there was nothing on this Earth that felt so good as being inside of a warm, drawing furry pussy.
No wonder so many men got wild over it and even wanted to kill to possess one.
No wonder-no wonder at all! Dick mused...
When he finally withdrew his cock and took his leave of her, Harriet was screaming her head off more tremulously than ever, utterly hysterical now over what had happened to her. Again and again, she screamed aloud: "Oh, the horror of it all, the utter horror. I want to die now. I do, I do, I do-ooo!"
And Dick, feeling somewhat guilty and remorseful now that the entire escapade was over, truth to tell, didn't feel quite so good anymore himself!...
CHAPTER NINE
Dick wasn't content to merely rest on his laurels!
Having succeeded, and surprisingly doing so quite easily, at having his way with his older sister-getting to both soundly hand-spank her bare, saucy behind, then to shove a cock up into her cunt doggy-fashion, and coming with a full load, in addition to making her come with a full load of her own precious maiden-juice-made Dick feel quite elated.
Nevertheless, he was eager and anxious to get onto a new conquest-a girl who was a stranger to him-for two pertinent reasons: While he enjoyed his initial experience with Harriet immensely, after it was all over-particularly the way she reacted, getting so hysterical and all-made him have some compunction of guilt-feelings and pangs of remorse on a conscious-level: Unconsciously, he was afraid, that as kind, soft, gentle and easy-going as his character-actor for a father was, still if he had any inkling of the escapade, he would promptly either kill him outright, or certainly castrate him-"cut his nookie off"-indeed, just as his also kindly mother had always threatened to do, "if she ever told him about young Dick's constant playing with himself."
So, more than anything else, he wanted to forget about the interlude with Harriet and get onto someone else-a new love-object-that would help him to forget.
Then too, he was curious to see how he would react to a new girl who was a stranger, and how she would react to him: Would she sent him as much, if not more, or be a complete disappointment outright?
And, getting down to basics, how would a new girl's behind and cunt appeal to him? Would these strategic female-zones get him as steamed as Harriet's endowments did?
In any case, there was only one way to really find out: Go into action and not just lie there, "playing with his dummy," and meditating about it!
Nor was young Dick's meditations and speculations purely abstract. Rather, he had someone specific in mind-a girl with his sights definitely set on: Her name was Marie Lanvin. She was a bona-fide Parisian-French girl, having originated from there. Physically, Marie was distinctly on the Brigitte Bardot type, as indeed, were many other French girls, such sort of looks being really quite common-place, only they weren't lucky enough to have the genius of a Roger Vadim to train and guide them.
Marie was somewhere in her mid-twenties, which, if it weren't for her many child-like qualities, would have certainly seemed like an old woman to Dick, who was a young boy of fifteen, and way out-of-bounds for him.
But, under the circumstances, she was letter-perfect, at least externally and superficially: Marie was a natural honey-blonde, with the sensuous, capricious features of La Bardot: having a similar upturned little pug-nose, rather thick but highly provocative lips, a baby-like chin which even had a little cleft in it, and almond-shaped, lustrous emerald-green eyes..
As for her body, Marie also was really stacked, having a nice pair of overflowing gourds for tits, a trim, firm but somewhat big, jutting behind, and long, streamlined legs. All of these assets were set-off by a resplendent taffy-golden sun-tan, indicative of Marie being a fresh-air-fiend in the Summertime and devotee of the public beaches, along with most thorough and meticulous applications of some sun-tan oil.
Marie had come to the Kingsley-home purely through an act of Fate: Back in her native Paris, ever since she was a young girl in her early teens, "she had fucked and sucked up a real storm"-in the true tradition of the Parisians-and she got knocked up so many times, that it could only be comparable to a female-cat dropping its constant litter of kittens: As a matter-of-fact, Marie had the morals of an alley-cat Nothing in the sexual periphery, be it ever so perverted and far-out, fazed her; she was truly game for anything and everything!
This included being a devout Masochist, and willing recipient of almost all the Sadistic Aberrations that could possibly be conjured up.
Marie had come to America because she fell in love with an American actor who played in a traveling-company of a successful Broadway play over there. He also claimed to love her. So as proof of this mutual-love, Marie, who seemed to be incomprehensibly fertile, got herself knocked up by him: Said actor professed his deepest love for her and aspiration for marriage. So it was he who brought her over here. But after their arrival in this country, a few weeks later, he had an abrupt change of mind or heart. In any case, he deserted her, even though she was in the very last stages of pregnancy, with her usual pretty, flat belly bloated and swollen up like a balloon.
Since he was an important actor, while they were living together, it was only natural that he introduce her to just about everyone who was somebody in the theater. And that's precisely how Marie got to meet the Kingsleys, specifically, Dick's parents, initially.
They took an immediate liking to the girl. And when, after several weeks, she sorrowfully told then that her actor-lover had deserted her, and was in the last stages of pregnancy, being all alone on this strange country, with no one to turn to for assistance-financial or otherwise-the Kingsleys privately compared her lover to Uncle Walt, that notorious black sheep, and conjured up the job for her of being their personal maid as well as part-time governess for young Dick: Aside from any feeling of compassion that they had for the girl, the Kingsley could actually use the services of her.
For her own part, besides "tiding her over the storm," Marie also aspired, especially with her own personal sexual-charisma which she had the utmost confidence in, to ultimately get a career as an actress in the theater, or to marry some eligible, successful male from that medium. She was so utterly irresistible to the opposite-sex, that they seemed to be attracted to her like flies and insects are to a light with a bunting of fly-paper.
Be that as it may, young Dick certainly was no exception to this seeming rule: Even before he had any definite aspirations to spank her saucy rump and have his way with her, he couldn't help but be enticed by Marie when she sauntered around the house in the simple, typical but most provocative standard maid's costume that the Kingsleys had provided her with: It consisted of just a black dress, which was made out of some shiny, glistening material-either satin, or more likely taffeta at the time-along with a cap and apron made out of stiff Irish linen, but nicely contrasting with the color of the dress, and high-heeled black pumps to round the simple ensemble off.
Of course, it wasn't the maid's ensemble itself, but the way Marie fitted into it, having deliberately ordered a dress that was too tight for her and naturally clinging. Such a dress served to emphasize her big, upthrust gourds for proud, high tits. And her behind would lilt and sway like a pair of gyrating camel's humps as she sauntered around and about-one hump going up as the other one came down in rhythmic, enticing cadence.
The high-heeled pumps served to raise the already long, streamlined legs and give them still an other remarkable dimension of alluring symmetry, making her seem as if she was one of those mythical creatures conjured up by either a Varga or a Petty, to put on those yearly calendars, which gave male executives the excuse to have them hanging in their offices, for jerk-off purposes when they didn't have a fetching secretary on their laps to play with.
It also made "a good conversation piece" when visited by other males, especially if they were customers, and could naturally lead to the stipulated executive "fixing it up" for one putting it on the expense-account, and getting generous business-orders for the firm he represented, in the grand and glorious tried and true American tradition.
Then, being set off with that shiny, glistening taffy-golden sheen to all of her flesh, was enough to make any real American boy flip and want to jerk himself off limp over her.
Dick's plan to get her in his nefarious clutches was ludicrously simple, really, It was based on the fragment of a conversation he had overheard by chance transpiring between his parents one day, and even reiterated several times since then, to further etch it on the back of his mind, to be stored away for such an occasion when he would have the proper use for it: "How is the new girl, Marie, working out?" Dick's father nonchalantly and lightly inquired of his wife and Dick's mother.
"Oh, all right, I guess."
"Meaning, precisely what, my dear? Is she a good enough worker?"
"Well . .yes. And she seems to be all right around young Dick, too-not at all a bad influence on him. Actually, she seems to like the boy and acts friendly toward him, or at least pretends to like him."
"So what's the trouble, then, my dear? You seemed to sound somewhat skeptical and reluctant to my query about her."
"Oh, nothing really, Except... " It was at this conjecture, she broke off, seemingly fearful to tell him lest he insist she get rid of the girl's services completely.
"As you were about to say, my dear?" he pressed her further.
"Well, the girl is a bit of a... thief."
"Oh?" her husband exclaimed rhetorically-as his characteristic way of pumping more information out of his wife. "How so?"
"Well, nothing really serious, you understand. But, from time to time, some small, petty thing becomes missing. And it's happened too often, to be purely coincidental."
"So, what do you intend to do about it, my dear? Fire her?"
"Certainly not, darling!" his wife emphatically replied. "Rather, just keep on letting her steal such trifles. After all, we pay her ridiculously small wages, and couldn't afford to have a personal maid and part-time governess for young Dick otherwise. So she's really only taking a fraction of what's she rightfully entitled to. Besides which, I take the extra-added precaution of keeping my more valuable possessions-large sums of money, jewelry and the like-safely under lock-and-key."
"A wise idea, my dear," agreed her husband. "Did you ever try dropping a hint to the girl about her... errr... 'itchy fingers!' "
"No-ooo, darling. And I won't, either, unless it gets too much out of hand and happens too often."
"Well, I think you're acting very intelligently and discreetly about the matter, my dear," her husband exclaimed.
"Oh?" his wife was genuinely surprised.
"Yes. I kind of like the girl, myself. I mean, I like her... personality-the cheerful way she effects all the others at being around the house. Then she's been through so much in her young life, that it's readily understandable for her to fetch a little trifle or trinket from time to time to become carried away."
"That's probably the way I feel about her, darling," his wife exclaimed, quite happily. "But really, I'm surprised, coming from you... "
"Oh? How so? Why is that, my dear?"
"Because that's the way women-I-would view the situation."
"Well, for once, we 'have a true meeting of the minds' and are in full accord."
"Yes, I guess we are, at that, darling," his wife fairly cooed, glad to get her way in the matter.
Of course, what her husband neglected to mention was, that he got just as big a hard-on as his young son, Dick, did, almost-which was truly amazing for a man of his age!...
So having such knowledge to go upon, Dick's devised a very simple but effective plan of operation: His mother made sure to keep all of her more valuable possessions under lock-and-key, according to the dialogue, since she was cognizant that the girl was a petty thief. However, this didn't mean to construe that Marie had the same knowledge and knew that his parents were suspicious of her.
Now, Dick knew where his mother placed all her highly regarded personal belongings-in the family safe-and also knew where he could obtain the combination to open it.
So on a day that his mother was away, he opened it and took out a semi-expensive watch, which was made out of white gold with diamond chips. He then took it when Marie's back was turned, and indiscriminately-to try and make it done carelessly and forgetfully by his mother-tossed it on the corner of the long library-table, made of hand-carved mahogany, to lie there, off to one side.
The rest of the plan was simple: He knew that Marie was going to feather-dust and clean the living room that day. So he went up to his own room and busied himself, letting a sufficient time elapse for her to see the object and pilfer it.
When he went back downstairs, his heart was pumping as he gazed in the direction of the corner of the table he was seeking: Sure enough, the watch was gone; she must have pilfered the object and quickly placed it in the pocket of her apron. As a. matter-of-fact, Dick was sure he could detect a most obtrusive bulge there, as she went about feather-dusting, adding the final touched to cleaning up the room.
Abruptly, he whirled around and called her "a thief, catching her red-handed in the act with the tell-tale evidence right on her."
She tried to deny it, claiming: "I was going to return to Ma'amselle all along. I just took it for safe-keeping."
"You're a liar, Marie, and you know it."
Hearing this effected her about as much as a splash of water would bother the average duck. She didn't even deign to defend herself any further, but shrugged her shoulders evasively and asked of him: "Exactly what is it that you want of me, Cherie, to keep your little mouth shut, hmmm?"
"To properly punish you, is what," he replied tensely, feeling acutely excited as he spelled the words out for her. "To have you lie across my lap, bare your behind, and take a good, sound spanking with a hairbrush, right here and now!" His voice rose and he became a bit more brace on the final note, anxious to see just how she would react to such a proposal.
"Or else? You'll tell your parents on me; is that correct, Cherie?"
"Precisely."
While Marie wasn't an educated girl in the formal sense, she still was quite Worldly-wise-far more so than a green lemon of a girl like a Harriet Kingsley, for example, was-even though the two females were around the same age. So utterly nonplussed, a look of knowing cunning brightened up Marie's pert, provocative face, as she exclaimed-partly thinking-out-loud-partly addressing him: "Arrr, now I get it, Cherie. You placed the watch there deliberately, to trap me. You hoped I would pick it up; then you could call me a thief and give me the either/or alternative, namely: either I let you spank my bare behind, or you would go and tell on me to your mother. Isn't that so, Cherie?" Marie's voice now became taunting and mocking, directly challenging and putting him definitely on the defensive.
However, now that he was so near to achieving his cherished goal, young Dick, despite his tender years and lack of Worldly-experience, wasn't to be so easily denied: "So what?" he replied, quite rhetorically, "What if I did? That doesn't mean you have to take my bait."
"I already told you, I was going it return it to your mother, anyway, Cherie. So-"
"Maybe you were. Then again, maybe you weren't But, if my mother learns of the situation, just whom do you think she will be more inclined to believe, Marie?" he uttered slyly, feeling definitely proud and elated with himself for being so shrewd and cunning.
Since the answer to his last question directed at Marie was quite obvious, she didn't either answer it or sustain her bickering with him. Instead, she stated: "Well, I won't take a whaling with a hairbrush, regardless, even if it means that I'm to lose this job. No, I won't have it, all of my flesh filled up with those ugly black-and-blue marks. I won't have it for anything. Do I make myself clear, Cherie?"
"Quite. And a spanking by hand-how about that?"
"Yes, that I would be willing to take. Not that I welcome that, either. However, I will be willing to put up with it to be sure to keep your little mouth shut Agreeable to you, Cherie?"
"You'll lie across my lap, and let me do it on the bare skin?" he inquired, spelling it out loud, still not quite believing in his stroke of good fortune.
"Yes."
"And as hard as I want, for as long as I want, too, Marie?"
"Yes, Cherie," she sighed tiredly and resignedly.
"Very well, it's a deal," he exclaimed, not being able to keep the feeling of excitement and jubilance out of his voice.
"Where do you want to do it?" Marie asked, coldly and impersonally. "Over by the sofa?"
"Yes," Dick managed to reply. "That will be fine."
Although she still felt highly skeptical that she wouldn't go through with it, nevertheless, young Dick sat himself down on the sofa and waited for her, a priori.
Once she saw he was seated, without neither any pause nor hesitation, Marie went about preparing herself for the intended ordeal: She raised the hem of her tight-fitting, clinging black dress, to get at her panty-briefs: Once she did so, besides being afforded a full view of her long, curvy, most splendid legs which were neatly encased in long black-meshed stockings, Dick, whose eyes were aghast-feeling his young cock grow rapidly-learned that she wasn't wearing any girdle. Like most working-girls of that time-period, she neither wanted a girdle nor could afford it. So, either they wore garter-belts, or elastic-band garters which Marie did, to keep their stockings up.
The panties were an enticing black pair, made out of satin, with matching black lace: They sure were sexy and seductive, Dick vividly remembered, his eager young prick standing up erect and full.
Using both hands to tug at the elastic-band on the sides, Marie wiggled and squirmed around, until she managed to lower the panties. Then she neatly rolled them as far down as they would go on her thighs.
Without hesitation, she lightly threw herself across Dick's awaiting lap, wiggling around until she fell inside the crook of his lap, making it quite obvious to him, even with his lack of experience, that she had been made to assume such a position and been spanked many times before this-indeed, had grown quite used to it by this time.
But, for his own part, Dick couldn't quite get over his feeling of sheer incredulity at the provocative sight that sexy Marie in semi-dishevelment presented to his feasting, gaping eyes: Looking the spitting-image of Brigitte Bardot in sorry repentance for the chastisement that was about to come, with that tight-fitting black dress raised, the sheer, wispy black satin panty-briefs rolled down and lowered, to set off and accentuate the high, firm, dimpled mounds of taffy-golden flesh-indicative that Marie took all of her sun-baths completely in the buff in her birthday-suit-and finally, the way the long, black-meshed stockings also set off and emphasized the curvy contours of her long, splendid gams.
Then after taking each of these provocative items of allurement separately in juxtaposition with bare, enticing, taffy-golden flesh, he took them conjointly, in one grand vision of an entourage of sweeping lines and rounded curves. Then too, the way she was lying across his lap, Dick could feel the swelled, rounded contour of a gourd for a high, proud tit pressed into the thigh of his left leg, and the faintest, teasing touch of the other tit on his right thigh.
He felt sure that he was going to shoot in his pants any second now. It was more than he could stand, really.
Then, not being able to resist the temptation, he ran his hand down lightly, to explore one of the high, curvy, dimpled, upthrust mounds of her delectable behind: He found that the flesh felt even better than it looked feeling velvety-smooth, firm and slightly tepid.
He ran his eager hand from one mound to the other one, first feeling a meaty cheek, then finally being audacious enough to run his fingers of the hand in-between the crevices and crack.
After quite some moments went by, Marie became a bit annoyed at his antics, exclaiming aloud: "Well, Cherie, how long are you going to keep this up, feeling my behind? Are you going to spank me or aren't you? If not, then please let me get up this instant!"
Dick, becoming quite alarmed at this threat-not wanting such a disaster to happen for anything, now that he had come this far-quickly snapped out of it and got get to begin spanking away: He placed his left hand in the small of her back, pressing down hard and firm, to make sure she would stay put once he actually commenced whacking away.
Then taking careful, deliberate aim at one of the high, upthrust, taffy-golden cheeks, Dick's hand began to rise and fall, cracking away.
Totally unlike the previous time when he had spanked his sister, Dick didn't pause nor hesitate, but got right into the swing of the thing-right from the very outset.
There were two definite reasons for this marked differentiation: For one thing, when he spanked Harriet that had been the very first time he ever had the chance to actually spank any girl in the true sense of the word. So he was so greatly excited and aroused, that it was hard to keep all of his pent-up emotions under control, to permit him to act properly.
Then too, since she was his sister, Dick had been a bit reluctant to spank her. There was a definite intermingling of doubt, guilt-feelings and pangs of remorse, to hold him back: Even when he resorted to the mechanism of obtaining proper retribution for what she had assisted Pete Roan in doing to him lashing his bare ass so savagely and ferociously with that awful strap of his-which had succeeded in releasing his aggression somewhat, still, there were definite remnant traces from the strict, tyrannical super-ego to give him more compunctions of doubt. But not now. There were no such factors prevalent So Dick proceeded to spank away evenly and methodically-according to a definite, even if simple plan of action: He would render a volley of six spanks on a given cheek in two series of threes. The first two would be applied on a meaty, dimpled cheek of the behind, the third across the arced-crease and top of the slab that was the back of the thigh.
Once this was done, he would go over to the other side, and lay them on in the exact same manner.
All the time, his hand would rise and fall, cracking away, going: Slap, slap-slap... Slap, slap-slap!
To give Dick still further impetus to spur him on, to his utter delight, he found that Marie had a bit bigger and fuller behind than his sister did, although the flesh was every bit as firm, resilient and enticing. And he truly enjoyed it the way one of those high, upthrust, taffy-golden mounds would bounce off the hard bony palm of his hand when it made harsh contact.
For quite some moments, Dick kept up the same exact pace, neither varying the tempo nor momentum of the spanking-ritual.
Although the taffy-golden tincture of Marie's entire backside was rapidly being transformed into a stark sanguinary blue, she never actually cried, as such. Once in awhile, when Dick hit a particularly sensitive spot which had caught more whacks than the rest of the backside, and therefore felt more searing and tingling to her, she would gasp out softly: "Oh-hhh."
But that was all.
Truth to tell, Dick could have kept right on spanking her this way for practically the whole night and not succeed in making her cry, having been so hardened and conditioned to this form of chastisement in her past: Later, as he ascertained from her, Marie had been whaled by big, strong, ferocious men. Some did it with their big, calloused hands. But others had resorted to a paddle, a hairbrush, a razor-strap, a riding-crop, and one had even been so cruel as to use a cat o' nine tails on her poor saucy rump, riddling it with welts.
Nevertheless, Marie feigned openly crying, anyway, because she was getting tired of this silly paddy-whacking, as such, and wanted to get it over with.
However, she failed to reckon with Dick's natural cruelty: Instead of producing sympathy in him for her, it seemed to drive him on to greater heights of demonic fury, as his cock rose to its full hard-on dimensions and stood up erect, like a ram-rod!
He whaled away indiscriminately now, making his hand move as fast and hard as it only could, both curvy balls of her behind bouncing and quivering all around like crazy.
Paradoxically, instead of making her cry more, since she had only been faking the tears in the first place, she abruptly terminated them altogether.
And, since she had never tried to squirm away, Dick now felt it was safe to remove his left hand from the small of her back, so that he could whale away at the behind with both hands.
Actually, since the left hand was fresh and her entire backside was already so thoroughly hot and sore, he did actually make her whimper at bit and to cry softly.
But Dick's paid her absolutely no heed. He was a real demon now, in an utter frenzy, frothing and foaming at the mouth, whacking away with both hands for all he was worth-as fast and hard as he only could.
Undoubtedly, with all of his earthquakes, drive and youthful-vigor, he might very well have kept on spanking this new human-toy of his forever, if certain pressing urges didn't intervene and refused to be any longer denied: It was his cock, being full and stiff for quite some minutes now and not being allowed any definite outlet, was starting to give him the unmistakable pangs in his testicles-better know as "blue balls."
So he desisted spanking with his left hand, to place it on his cock and to jerk off in direct rhythmic synchronization to his right hand which was still busy, feverishly spanking away at Marie's thoroughly scorched and blistered backside.
Marie, definitely cognizant of the removal of the fresher left hand, since it was no longer spanking her and had been the one that was really hurting her, along with intuitively sensing from his subsequent motion and stirring around just what he was up to, turned her head around and asked of him: "What are you doing, Cherie?"
"Still giving you the spanking you deserve, Marie."
"I wasn't referring to that; I mean, doing to yourself."
He blushed in confusion.
"Don't jerk yourself off, Cherie; don't go and waste it. If you're so steamed to me, let me up and I'll give you a real outlet"
"Very well," Dick murmured his acquiescence: He was just about through with spanking her, anyway. His hand was really tired by now, and her entire backside was so scorching and red-hot, that it burned his hand to the very touch, wherever he wielded it.
When Marie was released, she didn't actually alter her previous position, which she had assumed when she had been spanked, but merely made a variation of it, bending all the way over with her head down on the sofa, so that her bottom became completely tautened and upthrust, and her delectable honeybun for a twat came up through her thighs: "You like girls' asses, sonny boy," she murmured, with a trace of merry amusement. "Very well, here's your chance 'to have your cake and eat it"-feel my curvy backside, and get into my pussy at the same time."
"You mean, fuck you doggy-fashion, Marie?"
"How do you know that term? Don't tell me a young boy like you has had experience at doing this before?" Marie was truly surprised.
"Uh-huh. I sure have, Marie."
"Well, 'live and learn.' They're making greater strides in America than I thought," she mused aloud. "So, would you like to do that to me, Cherie?"
"Uh-huh. I sure would."
"Well, do it, then."
Dick eagerly drew close to her luscious backside: She was reminiscent of his sister in a way, except she looked so much more inviting. Marie had a fuller, shapelier ass Then too, the sheer black of her lowered panty-briefs contrasted so nicely with the stark sanguinary hue which was painted and embedded all over her entire lilting backside.
When he tried to penetrate her twat, he was delighted to find that he had no trouble, as Marie's snatch was also pulsating and twitching just as Harriet Kingsley's had done: Undoubtedly, Marie had been reminiscing about one of her Caveman-lovers in the past who had really sent her. Certainly, she wasn't so steamed to him, as such, being a mere boy. Then again, it might have given her a perverted thrill, to get a young boy such as him so aroused and frantic; it made her still feel the master of the entire situation, Dick speculated later on, when he reached full and adulthood and was really verse in all such matters.
In any case, his cock slid right in, nicely and neatly. Then, as he began to pump away from his belly, the inside of her snatch felt real good to him-warm, dank and drawing-like a slithering bed of quicksand.
Then too, totally unlike his sister, Harriet, who had only undulated her behind because she had tried to resist him and did so quite inadvertently, Marie deliberately rolled her behind, slithering, bumping and grinding it as his bony thighs slammed down and merged harshly with her red-hot backside.
Soon, Dick was pumping away harder and faster, which made him lose his balance. He swayed around precariously: "Grab my tits," Marie directed, coming to his rescue.
Dick reached out and seized them comparable to "the drowning man clutching for a straw." And he found, to his utter delight, that not only did clutching her by the tits give him good leverage, but an additional impetus naturally provided from those honey-dew melons with candied cherry-tips for gourds. They felt hot, hard and firm, rolling around nicely in his hands as he continued to pump away.
With her tits rolling around like crazy and her saucy behind in frantic motion, slithering, bumping and grinding away, along with the intense heat being exuded from Marie's backside from all the spanking he had done, gave Dick a surge of tumescence such as he never had known before.
He knew he couldn't hold back much longer. He was too far-gone and steamed now. He tried to hold it back for a few more moments, to make this delicious thrill last. But the tell-tale ache in his balls triggered off his cock, and he came in gushing spurts of his boyish-cum into her honeybun for a twat, which was twitching and snapping away like either an angry, trapped lobster or crab.
Within seconds after he came, Dick felt the snatch grow more acutely intense than ever. It became a blazing, boiling, bubbling cauldron-a volcano-cone filled to the brim with a hot churning molten lava.
Then some of the lava spurted and gushed out, onto the outer-labia lips-onto his still spurting, squirting young cock-with all of its volcanic-force and demonic fury.
The momentum they had worked up kept them going for some moments afterward, before Dick tapered off and petered out, although Marie's snatch was still twitching and quivering erratically: She was a real hot piece, Marie Lanvin was. Once a fellow got a girl such as her going, she could take on and fuck a whole army, and keep right on coming with her vital maiden-juice all night long! Dick realized later on.
But going back in Time and Space to the way he felt then, Dick clearly remembered that he felt real proud of himself, having succeeded in torridly spanking and humping doggy-fashion both his sister and his personal governess-two older, fully mature women in their middle-twenties.
Yes indeed, young Dick was coming on fast and hard in life.
And, the best was still yet to come.
It was, it was-it surely, surely WAS!...
CHAPTER TEN
While young Dick Kingsley felt quite content with himself and highly elated, Marie Lanvin was really furious with herself, that a young snot-nose such as him could put one over on her, and was determined to get even.
As had been pointed out before, an ordinary spanking as such didn't bother or faze her. She had taken far worse previously from an assortment of Caveman-lovers. So what Dick had done to her felt no worse than a Swedish-massage. If anything, she actually enjoyed it!
However, to be spanked-even ferociously so-from an adult male she was intimate with was one thing, to have to endure the shame and humiliation of being turned over the knee of a fifteen-year-old boy, who didn't even know how to wipe the remnant shit out of his behind after he made, was something else altogether.
It was truly degrading to her. Marie felt that her own point of honor had been greatly violated.
Then too, there was another motive which was prevalent with her-one that was more in the larger, general philosophical periphery: She was a French-Parisian girl by birth and tradition, and had strong nationalistic feelings which bordered on the chauvinistic. Furthermore, she felt she had been done in by that American actor she had an affair with, got herself knocked up. and came to this country with the open stipulation made by him that he would marry her-only to have him leave her completely in the lurch-all alone and lonely, and utterly destitute.
So being highly emotional and even irrational about the matter, as women, by their very nature, are inclined to be anyway, Marie automatically hated all Americans.
Of course, in the light of pure objectivity, she chose to overlook the fact, that she had been more "done in" by her fellow male-Parisians prior to ever meeting the actor, having been physically molested and ill-treated by them-had her pretty belly swollen and bloated so many time, she could no longer even remember them all-resulting in many abortions.
Then too, in the light of fairness, she should have realized that the parents of Dick had treated her kindly, taken her in and given her a job, along with the opportunity of meeting all the important people in the theater and the possibility of getting somewhere, now that "she had a foot in the door."
Actually, up to the run-in and confrontation with young Dick, Marie did feel luke-warm grateful to the Kingsleys, and she also felt kindly disposed toward the boy, whom she thought was real "cute."
But Dick's deliberate frame-up theft to afford him the opportunity to spank her bare ass more than served to obliterate any such tender feelings.
So, while before, she had relegated the entire Kingsley family as being "exceptions to the rule" of the rest of all those other pious and hypocritical Americans, now they were all merged together into one congealed mass in her mind.
Then, taken in a more positive philosophical-sense, Marie, by her very nature, was a confirmed Bohemian-Libertine and a real swinger. To put it plainly and succinctly, she derived the utmost relish and glee out of "fucking up those American swine and watching them really squirm," especially with their burning pangs of guilt And, ordinarily, to fuck up the life of a young boy such as Dick would have even made Marie hesitate. However, since he had taken the initiative such as he had done and was "asking for it," Marie decided to oblige him: She intended to completely debase and pervert him, until he was an utter little monster-far precocious for his years. This would be her own personal way of contributing to "The Sexual Revolution" that was going on in America.
Nor would she hurt him physically, either-devise some way to have his own ass whacked, to get even. Rather, she would "kill him with kindness," so, that by the time she got done, in the sexual periphery, he would be her own personal, little "Monster of Frankenstein." She vociferously avowed to herself that he would: Yes, he would, he would-he most certainly, certainly WOULD!...
Having such diverse experience with the opposite sex, Marie knew that every male has a definite preference as to which aspect of a female's erogenetic-zones, and other strategic assets, appealed to him most strongly: Some were tits-men) other preferred legs, and some went for asses.
In young Dick's case, the answer was quite obvious: He went for a girl's ass; he enjoyed spanking it So Marie Lanvin gave it to him, as a natural way to continue their relationship.
No, she even went further than that. She added extra allure to entice and get him so steamed, he would go out of his mind-"get plumb loco in the koko"-as Americans were so fond of saying in their slang-vernacular. Marie made a definite ritual out of it, which so befitted the obsession-compulsive type with its corresponding anal-fixation. She let young Dick assume the role of Big Daddy, decking herself out in an adolescent school-girl's outfit, usually a billowing black skirt, a simple colored blouse or pullover sweater, white bobby-socks and low-heeled brown moccasins: Paradoxically, it was comparable to the very same outfit that Harriet Kingsley, who considered herself so mature and womanly, wore around the house on that fateful night she had designated to groom herself, and young Dick had decided to have his way with her!
Be that as it may, in conjunction with the adolescent ensemble, Marie would also do her honey-blonde hair up in pig-tails, and make all the expressions and mannerisms of her naturally pert, child-like face even more pronounced, acting out the given ritual she had selected for the occasion: "Your Marie has been a very bad little girl in school, Big Daddy," she would exclaim.
"Oh?" Dick would reply, inquiringly but coolly.
"Yes, she has. Her teacher has asked you to come to school because she was so naughty."
"I see-eee," Dick would muse. "Well, you know what this means, don't you young lady?" he would exclaim, quite sternly and rhetorically.
At this conjecture, she would hang her head in shame, her cheeks becoming suffused with redness, (just as, indeed, she had remembered doing with her own flesh-and-blood father!) "You will have to be punished, my dear. I'm afraid you will have to get your saucy bottom severely warmed by your Big Daddy."
"Oh no," she would squeal, seemingly trying to cajole with him. "Please don't spank my little behind for me; don't make it all red and hot; I hate it so. But, give me another chance. I promise to be a real good little girl in the future. I'll never be naughty and wicked again, honest. Pee-lease, Big Daddy-O, huh?"
"No, I'm afraid not, my dear," Dick would glibly reply, "I gave you such a chance just two weeks ago, and now look what happened. So you'll just have to take your medicine as Stoically as you can, my dear."
Dick would feel his cock really rise and grow hard with these words, his ego being inflated no end, not to mention the paddy-whacking of Marie's delectable taffy-golden, curvy bottom which was soon imminent.
But first, to draw it out and make it more psychologically appetizing to him yet, Marie would continue to beg, squeal and ostensibly try to cajole with him not to do it-not to carry out his terrible threat.
However, in the final analysis, over she would go, across his lap, her billowing skirt raised up high-to her very neck, and her also school-girlish sort of pink panty-briefs pulled down to and over her kneecaps-presenting a most inviting sight, indeed.
Then Dick would proceed to spank away just as he had done on the initial occasion, her bottom quivering and bouncing and reddening rapidly. But unlike that other time when she still maintained the air of being an adult and taking the spanking in relative silence, this time, she feigned yelling her head off as the torrid spanks registered and took their toll, then at kicking her legs out-threshing and squirming about-desperately trying to work her way off of his lap as best she could: Young Dick was fairly made to shoot in his pants at such antics: It was too much for his tender, sensitive nature to take-far too much!
So regardless if he still wanted to continue spanking her or not, he was forced to desist, in a dire endeavor to place his acute emotions under check, before he tried to resume.
Marie, intuitively sensing the dire state of tumescence he was in and wanting to get his cock inside of her before he popped his nuts and wasted it, would exclaim coaxingly aloud: "All right, Big Daddy-O, you've spanked your naughty, wicked girl enough for now. So why don't you finish her off right, hmmm?"
"How is that, my dear?" he would inquire-as if he didn't know!
"Why, to give me a good, solid enema and clean me out properly, the way Mama usually does."
"All right; very well," Dick would sigh, releasing his hold on her altogether, so that she could get to her feet.
She would quickly bend over, tautening her red-hot bottom invitingly, so that her honeybun for a twat would come up through the thighs. Dick would already be behind her, having taken his cock out in the interim it had taken for her to stand up and bend over by the sofa.
Anxiously, he would press forward with the head of his cock, neatly falling into the twitching, quivering flaps of flesh. The rest of the shaft would quickly follow in its wake. Then he would start to pump away, as fast and hard as he only could, being so steamed as he was.
Like always, Marie would adroitly accommodate him, skillfully tossing and turning the curvy cheeks of her saucy behind, making them slither, bump and grind away in direct synchronization to his thrusts and the accompanying slams with his thighs against her entire red-hot, blazing backside, as he would feel all of his cock then sink info the hot morass of sticky juices of pre-secretion which already spread over her entire snatch.
With the distinct realization that she was the spitting-image of Brigitte Bardot at the peak of her prime, and with such a series of sensations being experienced to spur him on, along with his already being so intensely steamed from torridly spanking her ass, a priori, it didn't take too long before young Dick would come-in a gushing, torrential flood.
And invariably, right after he came, Marie would do likewise with her own precious maiden-juice, her entire pussy twitching and snapping like mad.
And she would keep on doing so until they had both popped off and creamed-dropped full loads-although, truth to tell, as had been noted before, a well-sexed girl like Marie Lanvin could keep on coming at will, all day long!
As a matter-of-fact, unknown to Dick, her pussy was still twitching and snapping away long after he had finished dropping his load in full: Yes, Marie Lanvin was one girl "who was always hungry for more cock!...
Marie let it keep on this way, with Dick continuing to spank her then fuck her doggy-fashion, utilizing the exact same ritual, or slight variations thereof.
Then, when she felt he had grown sufficiently accustomed to being inside her dank, cloying pussy this way, fearing he might become a bit jaded with her cunt-grow too used to it and "take it for granted"-she endeavored to get him to hump her in the more orthodox fashion. To achieve this objective, Marie innovated a new ritual to precede the actual action itself: She would assume the role of a sixteen/seventeen-year-old teenage daughter, who was incorrigible and promiscuous. Again, Dick would take the role of her strict father. She would still dress in casual clothes, although a bit more maturely, usually consisting of an outfit of wool slacks and a pullover sweater.
Marie would simulate coming in from a date, having stayed out real late. She would try to tip-toe into the house, up to her room, only to have her strict, Puritanical father up waiting for her to confront her and block her path: "Where were you, young lady?" he would inquire sternly, which would really seem ludicrous, coming from a young boy of fifteen.
"Oh, out, Papa."
"Where."
"Just taking a walk."
"Till this wee hour of the morning?" he would exclaim rhetorically. "You lie, Daughter-lie through your teeth."
"No, I do not, Papa," she would murmur, blushing suffusely, bending her head in shame, seemingly afraid to look him squarely in the eye.
"You were out with that awful wolf for a fellow again, behind my back, after I strictly forbade you to see him anymore, weren't you?"
"Yes, Papa, I was," she would blurt out quickly. "But I can't help it," she would moan forlornly. "I'm in love with him."
"Well, he's not 'in love with you.' He only goes out with you for what he can get And, judging by the hour you stayed out to on this morning, he must have surely gotten his way completely."
"No, he didn't, Papa."
"I don't believe you. I want to see for myself. So take down those pants and your drawers underneath, and let me have a look."
"Pa-pa, please don't make me do that," Marie would wail, ostensibly to cajole with him. "You're my father, so I feel so ashamed and embarrassed."
"Never mind that," he would counter sibilantly. "You're going to be punished, anyway, for going against my expressed wishes. But, just how severe your punishment will be, depends on how you look to me when you are bared."
Marie would continue to bicker and squeal for several more moments. Finally, she would acquiesce, slowly dropping the slacks, then the panty-briefs in their wake.
Dick would then get close to her, gazing' at the yellow-golden V, formed by its matted silken strands of hair, surrounded by a pinkish halo of flesh: Later on in life, after he had much experience, Dick learned that, contrary to the popular conception of most men, females who were blondes didn't generally have as neat pussies as did brunettes-even those with raven-black hair-such as his sister, Harriet. As a matter-of-fact, paradoxically, the darker the girl, usually the neater and firmer the pussy.
The main reason for this was, that blondes had two layers of skin, instead of the customary three of their darker sisters, hence, the red halo of flesh surrounding the pussy, which acted as a definite anti-fetish when witnessed by most men.
However, Marie, by way of compensation, had very pretty, pouting, pink outer-labia-lips, comparable to her sensuous mouth. She was the same as Harriet in this regard, as were so many other women, Dick found with accumulated evidence namely; she had a perfect matching pair of outer-lips on her cunt to the lips on the mouth of her face.
Be that as it may, Dick would then go through the pleasant motions of exploring Marie's pussy. He would look at it, fondle and caress it, finally taking to running his fingers deftly through the outer-lips. When he would withdraw the fingers, he would invariably find that they were all sticky and wet and had a distinct cheesy-fishy tang to them: "Arrr, just as I thought," he would exclaim knowingly. "Your private part is all sticky and wet and smells. So you must have been doing some jazzing."
"Don't be ridiculous, Papa," she would retort, smiling prettily, with an unmistakable trace of cunning in her eyes. "Whenever Jack just kisses me, he makes me melt and swoon inside and go simply ga-ga, so that my pussy gets all aroused and stirred. This doesn't mean that I've been doing any fucking, Papa."
"Silence," he would snarl. "Don't use that foul expression around your father again." Then he would add, seemingly speculating-out-loud: "I'll have to admit, that you could be right. There's no way for me to actually tell-to be absolutely sure. You might be telling the truth, Daughter, he conceded grudgingly.
"Nevertheless, you must be punished, anyway, for going against my expressed wishes and going out with him, especially till this ungodly hour of the morning. So, over you go, Daughter, and be quick about it!"
Already, Dick would be seated on the sofa, a priori, to be prepared for her imminent arrival.
But first, she would still go through the motions of bickering with him and begging for mercy for another few moments, her main argument being: "Must you keep on spanking me, Papa? I feel so ashamed and humiliated, a girl of seventeen, who still has to be taken across her Papa's knee with her panties pulled down and spanked like some little child."
Since Dick was only fifteen, this served to inflate his ego to the very quick-which was Marie's actual intention-knowing full well that it would serve to get him even further steamed.
Finally, Dick would reply, after letting a rapt interval of silence prevail, to keep her in suspense, acting out this simulated farce she had created to the last iota: "Regardless of your age, as long as you're still living here at home with me and I am supporting you, either you will heed my wishes, or suffer the consequences. Understand?"
"Yes, Papa," she would finally relent; however her lips would tremble mutinously, curling up into an annoyed but most provocative pout.
Strangely enough, the answer he had given Marie for an ultimate one, were almost the exact same words that his Uncle Walt had used on Daphne Forbes two long years ago now-which seemed like All-Eternity.
In any case, over she would go, even though still under protest. Then Dick would proceed to spank her the way an irate father would do with any incorrigible, wicked teen-age daughter, whacking away as hard and fast as he only could-going from one firm, curvy cheek to the other unevenly and indiscriminately-then, from time to time, also whaling away for a sustained volley on the arced-creases and tops of the slabs that were the backs of the thighs.
Since Marie had assumed the role of an adult, or approximating it as a teen-ager would do, she tried not to cry, gritting and gnashing her teeth to prevent her from doing so. But inevitably, under his sustained, savage onslaught, with her entire bottom becoming as red as a beet, the tears would start to flower erratically at first-then copiously.
When the long, severe chastisement was over and Marie was permitted to get up off her adopted father's lap and stand erect, on her feet, she would first go through the motions of rubbing her scorching backside with both of her hands placed behind her back, making various grimaces connoting the blistering, burning tingle that was emanating from there. Then, just as she was about to pull up her panty-briefs and slacks, an impulse suddenly would seem to seize her, as she exclaimed aloud: "You're right, Papa. I confess. I let Jack plow me tonight Not only tonight, but he did so on many other nights as well. And, for that matter, so did a lot of other boys before him, too."
"What's this? What's this you say?" Dick would feign sheer incredulity and dismay. " 'Are my ears playing tricks on me?' "
"No, Papa. You heard me correctly, all right"
"But, why are you telling your father all this? To hurt him and get even with you for just spanking you-purely out of spite?"
"No, Papa. I have another reason altogether."
"What's that, Daughter."
"Well, I was always steamed to Jack because I thought he was the best humper I've ever had. But if a real big he-man came along-one who was strong and mature-and could outdo him in this department, I would get over my crush on him altogether, because, I realize you are right, Papa; he is no good for me."
"So what are you proposing I do, Daughter?"
"Take me-show me the way a fully mature and strong he-man really takes a woman."
"But, I am your father."
"Precisely. And who is better suited for what I propose? Who could show a girl more consideration and love than her very own flesh-and-blood father?"
"But, it is wrong, for a father to have sex-relations with his daughter," Dick would fake a mock protest.
"Perhaps so," she would reply musingly. "But would it be better if I went out and got my forever-itchy pussy massaged by some older man who is a complete stranger?"
"No, I guess not," Dick would murmur by way of answer.
"So, take me, then, Papa. Take me the way I want to be taken-crave to be taken-fully and utterly. Send me, my sweet, wonderful Papa, send me-plumb-clear out of this World completely!" she would end up by chanting emotionally.
"Very well," he would agree, sounding reluctant, even though, inwardly, he was just about jumping out of his skin, he was so steamed.
Marie temporarily pulled up her drawers. Then, by previous mutual agreement, they went up to Dick's room, to indulge themselves there: It would be far too messy to fuck on the sofa, they found. And doing it on a bed was much more comfortable, too.
It was a typical boy's room, being rather small and oblong-shaped. He had a microscope set, a chemistry set, and two small book-cases with books on the theater and some fiction.
The bed was really meant for one person to sleep on, but for doing some humping, it was also ideal: They both got undressed in rapt silence. Marie divested herself of all her things quickly, then laid down on the bed to get into position. She arched her back and propped up her legs. Her itchy, tingling pussy, which was still all dank with the flowing juices of pre-secretion from previously, she parted with both hands on the outer-lips opening it wide-so that young Dick would gain quick and easy access to it.
Finally, he was also stark naked and walked over to where she was lying, fully arched like a jungle-cat, and waiting for him.
For a fraction of a moment, he gazed inside the wide, open gash, at the inner-membrane of her snatch, and found, to his dismay, that it looked comparable to a piece of raw and bloody, slimy arid wet liver, and he felt nauseous to his stomach.
Marie, realizing full well what an anti-fetish the inside of a twat was to any male who happened to gaze upon it, quickly set out to distract him, putting his mind and surging libido elsewhere: "Come to me, Big Daddy-O. Come to me, and fuck me, but good," she cooed-indeed, just the way a precocious teen-age girl would do.
In the back of his mind, Dick identified himself with his deadly enemy, that big, rough and tough hard-hat construction worker who was Pete Roan. He set about placing himself in the same frame of mind that Roan was in just prior to taking his older sister, Harriet.
Snarling like a roaring, raging lion, Dick poured down on her hard, to Marie's utter delight. He quickly tried to wedge the head of his cock into her wide-open twat, but in his haste, missed. He tried again, the cock frustratingly falling off to one side. So Marie parted her legs still further to keep her twat open, took the fingers of her hands and knowingly guided it up and into her "L-Shaped Room."
Once he was fully inside of her, his cock naturally sinking in to the very hilt of the shaft, at her direction, she had him engage in some brief fore-play-to intensify their mutual libido anew-to the surging fervor they previously had down in the living room.
She had him kiss and soul-kiss her thick, pouting, sensuous lips, catching her tongue with his and kissing him back-wrapping and twirling it tantalizingly around-again and again and again.
She then had him fondle, caress and kiss her breasts, ending up with her holding a given one for him, so that he could suck on it ardently-as if he were breast-feeding by his mother.
Finally, she had him run his hands lightly and liltingly over her soft and velvety-smooth, slightly tepid tummy, which was replete with little butterflies doing nip-ups in it, manifested to him as a series of stranger murmurs.
He culminated this set of advances by being given the freedom to run both of his hands up and down the fullness and symmetry' of her sleek, graceful, streamline gams which probably gave him the biggest hard-on of all.
Now, Marie felt, that he was fully ready, and since he was already in, she guided him on top of her so that he wouldn't fall out: Young Dick could now feel all of her enticing entity at once: the high, proud, upthrust gourds for tits, the flat-lined smooth belly, and the long streamlined gams.
Brought to the very brink of surging tumescence now, Dick began to pump away-lightly and easily at first, using short thrusts from his belly. But as he gradually got into the swing of the thing and worked up sufficient momentum and drive, he took ever longer, fuller and deeper strokes.
Although Marie knew she could slow him down "and bust his hump" if she really wanted to with those long, strong, curvaceous legs of hers, she didn't want to. Instead, she used the hot, tingling sides of her tapered thighs to thresh them lightly against his, to spur him on to incomprehensible heights of ecstatic bliss.
Then fully identified with Pete Roan by now, Dick would place both of his hands on her red-hot, curvy behind -still thoroughly blistered and scorching-hot from all the intense spanking it had received from him downstairs-cruelly twisting, turning and completely inverting the cheeks.
This brought involuntary tears to Marie's lovely almond-shaped emerald-green eyes. However, they were tears of Masochistic-rapture instead of hurt.
Clutching both inverted cheeks of her red-hot, saucy ass tenaciously, young Dick proceeded to pound away with his cock into her passive snatch-pounding it, pounding it, pounding it-as if he was beating the raw-liver-membrane with a policeman's club. He was utterly solidified now and provided with total leverage: both, by his clutching of the cheeks of her ass, and her eager cooperation.
And as he kept right on-pounding, pounding, pounding -beating her entire cunt savagely and ferociously, Marie was made to gasp and, like someone in a deep somnambulistic-trance, to exclaim aloud in a soft but chanting voice: "Beat me. Beat me with your cock, you big, wonderful, strong Caveman, you. Beat me, beat me-oh, beat me-eee. Beat me to death with that Heavenly young prick of yours."
And indeed, it seemed as if young Dick was trying to do just that, pounding and slamming away at her more frantically, than ever. Actually, he was rendering Marie a double-beating, as he also pounded and slammed her thoroughly blistered and tingling backside savagely into the firm, hard mattress conjointly with each and every thrust, the mattress acting as an inadvertently improvised paddle, especially on her more tender and sensitive rump!
Finally, they couldn't hold back the surging tides of passion-juice any longer, and they both came in gushing, spurting surges-screaming like crazy-yelling like mad.
And even though Dick was inflicting his double pounding on her after he popped his nuts in full from the terrific momentum and velocity he had worked up, which carried him on the wave of his intense passion and kept him going for quite a number of strokes thereafter, Marie was still screaming and cajoling with him aloud: "More cock; I want more. Give me all that you've got, Dickie boy. Keep on beating me and slamming my saucy rump hard into the mattress, too. Beat me to de-eeeath. No, don't be afraid, my darling; keep right on doing it. I want to live-to live dangerously. I don't care; I don't give a shit. Beat me, beat me-oh, beat me-eee. Fuck me, fuck me-oh, fuck all the burning-hot piss and living shit out of me. Fuck me to de-eeeath!"
Then, at last, the inevitable happened: Dick slowed down, then stopped pumping away and slamming her rump altogether, slumping across her sweating, rancidly-smelling body, utterly pooped, thoroughly exhausted and done in!
However, Marie still kept right on coming long after he was finished, squirting and spurting ever fresh jet-streams of maiden-juice-creaming as if she had her own built-in automated-cow and/or milk-factory-creaming until the cream actually CURDLED!...
CHAPTER ELEVEN
For some weeks thereafter, Marie continued to let young Dick whale away at her behind and to fuck her, until she had manipulated him into all the various positions and he had thoroughly gotten used to both the sight and feel of her delectable honeybun. Once this goal was achieved and he could easily hump her in all the positions she knew, Marie felt he was ready to mount the next plateau-which indeed, was the highest one of all-namely, to make a true "Frenchman" out of him: Yes, this would be the ultimate achievement for her-to take this young rascal and show him how to perform and enjoy the act of sucking and being sucked-in the true French manner and grand tradition.
Marie took the initiative and blew him first. She wanted him to see and feel first-hand how thoroughly enjoyable it was.
For this expressed purpose, they would go right up to Dick's bedroom. She would have him sit down on the bed after getting down to his underwear. Marie would take his cock and balls out, cupping them gently in both hands. Then she would go to work, using all of the skill she only knew: Dick found, she knew just what to do and how to do it: She was neither too rough nor too gentle. That Big Rita had repulsed and frightened him with her coarseness and ferocity, but not Marie. Not did she go to the other extreme, either, and be too gentle, thereby hitting certain sensitive spots and tickling him. Rather, she stroked and caressed the entire member at first with her sensitive, soothing fingers, sending seeping, titillating chills circuiting and coursing up and down Dick's spine.
Then, when she felt he was sufficiently loosened up and at ease, she would go about getting him to the opposite extreme-of being all tensed-up-as a necessary and natural prerequisite of tumescence: She would concentrate solely on his cock, letting a thumb and index finger rotate lightly and liltingly around the head of his prick, then sliding back and having her whole hand grab the shaft, jerking and pulling on it lightly.
Young Dick would be made to convulse and coo, and, after a time, have a terrific hard-on. As an additional incentive and to make a natural transition to Frenching, he would be permitted to use the meat-end of a hairbrush on her saucy rump when she assumed the position to blow him: Finally, Marie would be down in front of him, on her bended knees. Her lips would be curled and puckered-up, while her saucy behind would be upthrust and tautened.
As soon as her thick, pouting sensuous lips made direct contact, wetly encircling the head of his cock, this acted as the signal for him to start whacking away on her upthrust, tautened rump.
Dick would start to whack away savagely, putting the full force and weight of his shoulder behind each and every crack-going from one svelte, tautened cheek of flesh, over to the other one-then right back over again.
Usually, he would give her anywhere from six to ten of such ferocious whacks, before subsiding, which was strictly due to Marie's intense power of concentration and strong will-power: She knew that if she let herself get distracted from giving him a good blow-job and focused on the pain of the spanks, she would be in for a real good beating and made all black-and-blue by him. And while she was a devout Masochist, still, she didn't want to take such a going-over from a young snot-nose like him, and be riddled with welts meaninglessly on the morrow.
So even though Marie would be made to flinch audibly-thresh and squirm as the cheeks of her behind would quiver and bounce emphatically-she tenaciously persisted in what she was doing. She would work the entire prick back and forth between her puckered-up lips, as her tongue, acting as an over-sized clit, would lick and lap out at the bottom of the shaft and periodically at his balls.
With the suctioning and drawing of her lips-which indeed, were more cloying and suctioning than her cunt was in Dick's view-the entire image and the act she was perpetrating would overwhelm him: The sight of a virtual Brigitte Bardot down on her bended knees, unashamedly willing to debase and humiliate herself by sucking his cock and also to take terrific punishment from the hairbrush as well: Then there was the magnetism and adroitness of the oral-cunt itself, working on him-suctioning, drawing and draining-even as the seemingly over-sized clit for a tongue was busy licking and lapping at the very same time.
So it was, that even though he would have liked to sustain the whacking of her saucy behind with the hairbrush for at least a little while longer, young Dick never lasted beyond giving her ten swift, blistering cracks. Then he would melt and succumb completely to her and what she was doing.
Groaning aloud audibly, the whacks would become progressively lighter and lighter at this pivotal-conjecture. Then they would stop altogether, the hairbrush dropping to the carpeted-floor with a muffled clatter.
Dick, completely carried away and wanting to pop off, would take his free right hand and place it in back of her head, to act as a vise, to hold her steady and still.
Then he would pump away into her mouth, doing so as hard and fast as he only could.
He would invariably come with a terrific surging gush and a number of rapid-fire quick spurts.
At times, the initial load would be so quick and big, that it would overfill Marie's mouth, involuntarily making her puff up her cheeks. But then she would get her bearings and greedily swallow the huge load down, her mouth and tongue still licking and lapping away-drawing and draining him further to get more out of him-all that he only had of the vital cum.
And she would keep right on licking and lapping, drawing and draining him tenaciously, until she got all out of him that he only had within him to give for one time until, indeed, she had "sucked him completely dry!... " For a novel change-of-pace and as the true ultimate thrill after several weeks of steadily blowing him, Marie would suck out his ass-hole when he had no more juice left in his cock: She knew that this would really send him and make him totally hers, being the anal-type and so infatuated with his own precious ass as he was.
So unhesitatingly, Marie would go to work, her lips placed directly on the crack of his ass, but by suctioning with them on the curvy cheeks, getting a secure grip from which, he neither could nor would want to escape, especially when she would bring that hot, dank, most activated tongue of hers into play: It would shoot unerringly in the crack, going down to the sphincter-muscle inside of his ass-hole-licking and lapping-drawing and draining.
The suction was so fierce and terrific, Dick would find, that it would feel to him as if she had placed a powerful vacuum-cleaner on his ass, drawing, draining and suctioning all of the very juices out of his spinal-column-indeed, the very marrow out of his bones.
So it was, that whenever she got through with him doing this, he would invariably end up, slumped and doubled-over with pain: On one hand, he would feel entirely pulverized and benumbed-not able to stand up again properly.
But on the other hand, he realized that this was the ultimate thrill of all that could possibly be performed by any female for him to his male-ego with its compulsive anal-fixation.
So it was, that whenever Marie was about to perpetrate this act, Dick would find himself caught in such an acute dichotomy. As a result of it, he would make a token-protest, groaning mournfully aloud: "Oh no. Not again, Marie dearest. Please, not that. It takes far too much out of me."
"Arrr, but I want to 'take far too much out of you.' Dickie boy darling-my sweet, wonderful Cherie. I want to take out all you've got. And you should be quite happy, darling, that a pretty girl like me is also willing 'to take all of your shit.' " She would titter merrily.
And indeed, one time, she was made "to take all of his shit," literally, as he abruptly dropped a hot, full, watery load of turds right down her sensuous mouth.
But completely unabashed, Marie chewed them all up and picked right up from where she had left off at sucking out his young ass-hole, until, once again, he felt that "monkey on his back" fully at work-that human-vacuum which suctioned, drained and drew on the sphincter-muscle-until he could feel the juices oozing out of his spinal-column, along with the very marrow in his bones again: All of him-everything that he only had inside of him-his very guts went into those greedy, hungry lips of hers!...
For Marie Lanvin to coax young Dick Kingsley into letting her blow him was relatively easy to achieve, especially since she also permitted him to whack her saucy ass with a hairbrush. Then, being the passive recipient of a blow-job by her, wasn't so hard for any man to take, even if he was a queer.
However, the next phase on Marie's personal agenda slated for young Dick was for him to eat out her snatch, and this ostensibly was more difficult to achieve.
The main obstacle to thwart Marie and Dick's psychological-type. Actually, there were only two, going on the basis of the so-called transference-neuroses in Psychoanalytic-work: They were: obsession-compulsive syndrome, and the anxiety-hysteria one: To correspond to these types, it was axiomatic that the first type, which was Dick's, had a fixation on the anal erogenetic-zone, wanting to spank and fuck girls in the ass. Whereas, the other type, for all its flightiness and waves of dread, which could lead to impotence and giving the love-object up altogether in really severe cases, liked to suck on tits and eat cunt.
So the problem was, that hardly ever did one type completely go over to become transformed into the other one, except perhaps where there was a severe trauma prevalent and a reaction-formation set in. As a matter-of-fact, the one psychological-type, couldn't see or understand what the other type saw so stimulating in its choice of erogenetic-zones: An compulsive-compulsive type would shrug off a girl's tits and look upon them as superfluous, usually preferring a small, neat pair. And to eat a cunt was unthinkable, it being so dirty and slimy.
Whereas, the anxiety-hysterical type would laugh at the compulsive-compulsive one's selection of the ass, looking upon that faze of a girl's anatomy as "the dirtiest part of her being of all," since she moved her bowels from it.
Of course, in more normal cases, where a clinical-neurosis is not prevalent, the selection is not so extreme and severe, but more a question of emphasis and degree as to preference to get one steamed.
Dick was quite normal in this respect. While he had a definite predilection for a girl's behind first, with nice, shapely legs being his definite second choice, he could take tits or leave them. If a girl had a nice pair-such as both Marie Lanvin and his older sister, Harriet, did-then they served as a subsidiary element to intensify his being steamed from the other assets: But as for putting his mouth to a girl's cunt that was definitely out To even think of eating a pussy, utterly revolted and disgusted him, particularly after the traumatic-experience he had with Big Rita, when she so glaringly displayed her big, heavy and hairy, dirty, slimy and stinking twat, that looked as if it had been freshly slashed with a meat-cleaver when she opened up the outer-lips with her prying hands to show him-like a raw slab of inferior, even rotten-grade roast-beef.
Of course, both Harriet and Marie had much nicer pussies. But even so, he didn't particularly relish the thought of putting his mouth anywhere near there if he could help it!
And this was precisely Marie Lanvin's basic problem: Young Dick wasn't the psychological-type to be a true "Frenchman." So, how to surmount this obstacle, that was the question?
Marie would be quite willing to let him spark her ass with the hairbrush, and do so soundly, if she could conjointly succeed in getting him to also eat her twat. However, the very nature of Frenching a girl was glaringly contradictory to scourging her. A different mood altogether was obviously required-one of over-adoration and worship of her and her great beauty-rather than that of Sadism and scorn.
So how to get around this terrible dichotomy? That was the question.
Since "necessity is the mother of invention" as it is, and, in the very same connection, "seek and ye shall find," Marie thought she came up with a pregnant germ in another axiom: "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
Thinking of such a proverb, gave rise to a specific association in Marie's rapt, fleeting mind...
It went back to the time she was still at home in her native Paris, France. At a certain conjecture in her life, she was working as a waitress in one of those little restaurants, and yearning to buy a certain dress, but not having sufficient funds.
Now, every day promptly at the exact same time-twelve noon-a man came in to order some buns and coffee: He was rather a nondescript looking man, being small and slim, with a black goatee and mustache and steel-rimmed eye-glasses. He was either in his late sixties or early seventies, and what Marie found particularly remarkable was, that he seemed to have all of his hair, and with no traces of gray anywhere in it-neither on his head, or in the mustache or goatee.
He was always polite and courteous with her, and left Marie a fairly nice tip. One day, her curiosity got the better of her and she asked of him, "How come you still seem to have all your hair, with not a trace of gray anywhere in it?"
And he replied, smiling knowingly: "I don't know, my dear; really, I don't. Perhaps it's just that I ate the right... foods all my life."
Although this one declarative sentence was loaded with deep significance, Marie took it purely on face-value at first, and let it go at that.
But, from that time onward, he acted more friendly and intimate toward her than he had previously. One day, she must have seemed particularly forlorn, nervous and depressed, because he inquired of her, quite softly and amiably: "Something wrong, hmmm, my dear?"
"Well... no," Marie replied, somewhat falteringly. "I mean... not really."
"Well, it must be something that is bothering you, because you don't seem your usual light-hearted, carefree, cheerful self to me today. So what is it, my dear?"
"Oh, just a trifle. There's a dress I want. I went in the shop and tried it out. It does wonders for me and my figure."
"Yes? So?"
"It's far too expensive. I can't afford to buy it on what I make here-at least, not without depriving myself of other things I need. So-"
"That's all it is," he exclaimed. "Well, that can be easily arranged for you, my dear."
"Oh? How?" Marie inquired, with a definite trace of suspicion in her voice.
"Very simple, my dear: By me."
"For doing what? Letting you take certain... liberties with the, perhaps?
"Well, it all depends on how one looks at it. I can put your mind at ease in the usual sense: I am far too old a man to have intimacy with a girl anymore. And I don't even desire it, as alluring and as fetching a hunk of morsel as you irrefutably are, my dear."
"So what do you want of me, then?"
"I told you before, my dear, in answer to your question about the remarkable condition that my hair is in at my age: 'It must be because I have eaten the right foods all my life."
"Meaning, exactly what? I don't understand what you're driving at, Mister?"
"Oh, don't you? That's strange," the man mused, seeming to think-out-loud. "Very well, I'll spell it out for you, my dear: You are so lovely and fetching and irresistible, that I would like nothing better than to place you on a pedestal, having you sit there, stark naked, and eat out your succulent honeybun for a cunt.
"You allow me the joy of doing that, and I will be willing to pay you well, my dear-quite well-so that you will be able to afford that dress you want by tomorrow without fail. So what do you say, hmmm, my dear? Will you acquiesce to meet me tonight and let me do that?"
"Well... " Marie said aloud, feeling flattered, but still hesitating: After all, she didn't really know this man He might turn out to be one of those mad fiends who chopped up pretty girls and stored the parts away in frigidaires-another one of those Bluebeard-types.
She didn't know; she couldn't be sure. However, in her judgment, based on her female-intuition, he didn't seem to be that type. So she was willing to take a chance. Finally, she consented to meet him... It was a truly ludicrous situation-a real weird bit-as Marie vividly recalled it, she met him in front of the restaurant where she worked after hours, and he took her to his pad: It was one of those large one-room artist studios, replete with an overhead skylight.
Whether the little old man painted or not, Marie couldn't say. She wasn't sufficiently interested to inquire of him and find out. But there was several easels, boxes of paint and paintings scattered indiscriminately around the room. So, she guessed, if he didn't paint himself, he had a friend who did and lent him the use of the room for such an eventful occasion.
He softly told her, "to bare her pussy; it was quite immaterial to him if she kept her clothes on and merely, dropped her drawers, or got undressed altogether."
Since she was still a bit leery of him, Marie decided on the former course at first.
Once she was in the required state of semi-dishevelment, he directed her to sit on a tall, wooden high-chair over in the far-corner of the room.
Soon, he came over to her and went to work: For a few moments, he went through the preliminary motions of stroking and massaging the outer-labia lips of her cunt at the slit, to get it sufficiently stirred and worked up with flowing juices of pre-secretion.
After awhile, this was achieved, as Marie thought about a younger, more virile man giving her the hand-job.
Then the little old man settled down to French her, and that was precisely what was so remarkable, weird and utterly ludicrous to Marie: It was not so much what he did, but the way he went about it: Cupping the lips of her twat with both his hands holding the entire snatch up and keeping the folds of flesh neatly parted-he brought his mouth and tongue to the fore. And he proceeded to eat her as impersonally as if he was eating his buns and coffee back in the restaurant: He showed no signs of passion whatsoever, but rather as if he was indulging himself in a particularly delicious snack.
He had no teeth of his own left, wore bridges of false ones, which he had removed. So he had to chew with his lips, making strange crunching, squashy sounds as his own saliva and her squirting passion-juice became merged and intermingled first in this mouth, then in this throat which ultimately made little raspy noises.
But to Marie, the strangest thing of all was, that the little old man was a natural cunt-lapper; no man had ever licked, lapped and eaten her out quite as adroitly as he had done. And she would be made to moan and squirm-thresh and undulate-as her body swelled and grew tepid.
All the time, those lips would keep right on harmlessly gnawing away, dispersed with a rapidly flickering tongue which licked, lapped and swabbed out the innermost recesses of her palpitating snatch.
When he would be near his fill, Marie would be undulating as if she had the St. Vitus Dance and screaming aloud tremulously.
Then she would come, feeling blinding waves shooting through her as cascading stars skyrocketed and became brightly, sharply pinpointed in her head.
And the little old man would draw his entire face still closer, not wanting to lose even a drop of this precious food which she exuded...
When it was all over, he paid her handsomely just as he promised, which gave her more than an ample amount to buy the dress she wanted. He also arranged for another appointment with her later that week.
As she took her leave, Marit remembered feeling quite happy and elated with herself: She truly felt, if anything, she should have paid him instead of the reverse-even though he was a little old man!
He made appointments with her quite often-at least two, three time a week. And for each of those subsequent occasions, he had her come to the same place and went through the exact same ritual as he had done on the initial outing, although, by now, having grown to trust him, Marie stripped down stark naked before taking her customary seat on the highchair.
One time, she had her monthly-period-had the rag on and told him about it,-feeling sure that he wouldn't want to see her.
But she turned out to be wrong.
Without any hesitation, he took out the rag, then licked and lapped and ate away as always-as if he was eating his usual snack of buns and coffee.
When she came, he gulped it all down-including a generous sprinkling of menstrual-blood, which had become agitated to flow copiously-along with the precious spurts of the usual passion-juice.
After it was all over, she was dressed again, he had paid her and made another appointment, she couldn't help but inquire: "How could you? How could you eat a girl when she's like... that?"
"Nonsense, my dear," he exclaimed quite jubilantly. "It's precisely at such a time, that a girl tastes her very best-like the richest and choicest of vintage-wines-and you know that we Frenchmen are great big wine-drinkers!... "
But, if Marie Lanvin lived to be a hundred, she still would never forget the vivid image that this little Frenchman presented to her whenever he got down to eating out her cunt: He would always take off his eye-glasses and remove his dental-plates, as a direct prerequisite to having his dish of hair-pudding. And with such accessories removed, that little thin, wizened, wrinkled face with its raven-black mustache and goatee-both so neat and trimmed and bristly would make it seem to her as if he was a disembodied cunt abstracted from some old witch of a woman: The way the mustache would twitch and the goatee bob up and down against the pulsating, quivering old flesh-and as if this strange, synthetic twat was trying to eat up her own-completely devour and assimilate it as an integral part of itself!
It was a real weird bit, all right-real weird, indeed, Marie reflected raptly.
Nevertheless, this odd little Frenchman who dined on her cuntal-pudding regularly, provided the one key she was looking for with young Dick, to open up the proverbial lock of the door within him, so that he would ultimately eat out her twat just as good as the little old Frenchman had once done.
Marie broached the subject to young Dick lightly and easily at first one afternoon in the living room, still taking him by surprise and catching him off his guard: "You've enjoyed the blow-jobs I've been giving you, along with my consenting to letting you smack my rump with the hairbrush, haven't you, Cherie?"
"Why, of course, Marie dearest," he instantly and brightly replied. "They were all thoroughly enjoyable and utterly delightful."
"Good, I'm glad," she retorted knowingly. "And you've been having them for quite some time now, correct, Cherie?"
"Well... yes. So?"
This was it-the wedge she had been seeking in the dialogue: "It's only fair that you properly... reciprocate, Cherie."
"But, how?" He still didn't quite know what she was driving at.
"To French my sweet honeybun for a pussy and eat a generous helping of cuntal-hair-pudding."
"Oh," Dick exclaimed, thoroughly dismayed, paling considerably: Truth to tell, in the back of his mind, he had been anticipating her making such a proposal for quite some time. However, now that she had made it and it was out in the open, he felt utterly confused and routed.
"So what do you say to that, hmmm, Cherie? You don't actually meet it with... relish, I take it?"
"Well, actually, a pussy-that of any girl-is not the prettiest thing for a fellow to look at in the World, although yours is nicer and neater than most. Then too, it has a rather strange... awful . .smell to it"
"Hm-hm," Marie exclaimed, nodding her head knowingly. "Well, you know what they all say, Cherie, don't you?"
"What's that, Marie?"
"'Once you get past the smell, you've got a twat licked!" After saying this, she tittered softly with amusement.
"Yes, but even so," Dick started to counter.
"But, don't feel so bad, Cherie. I have a way for you to enjoy such a dish, after all. As a matter-of-fact, you might even come back for second helpings and ask for more."
"I will?" Dick was utterly incredulous. "But, how is that? How can that be?" L "Oh, you'll learn in another few minutes. Just stay where you are, and I'll be right back."
Marie rose to her feet and went to the kitchen. When she returned, Dick could see she had a jar of raspberry preserves in her hand.
Without deigning to say anything to him, she put down the jar for the time-being, picked up her skirt and lowered a pair of black satin panty-briefs with a crocheted also black bunting, as was her custom. Then gazing into far-off outer-space vacantly," she placed her nimble fingers of both hands between the outer-lips of her cunt, to give herself a quick hand-job: She did this for a few minutes, until the juices of pre-secretion were flowing readily inside the inner-most recesses of her hot snatch. Then she laid herself down on the sofa, throwing up her legs in the exact same position she would have assumed if she was about to be humped in the orthodox-manner.
Marie reached at her side on the cocktail-table for the jar of raspberry preserves she had temporarily placed there. She quickly retrieved and uncapped it, taking generous gobs of the jelly on the tips of her fingers and the palms of her hands. Then she proceeded to gingerly rub it in, all over the outer-lips and inside the snatch itself. Once this was done, she beckoned to him with her other hand, saying softly but firmly aloud: "Come to me, Cherie."
Slowly and hesitantly-as if he was walking to his doom-Dick obeyed.
"I'm fully ready for you, Cherie. Take a look at my twat now. It doesn't look so bad anymore-being all rubbed in with jelly as it is-does it, Cherie?"
Dick, trembling audibly, gazed downward: True to her prediction, it didn't look so bad anymore, but rather appetizing. The red halo surrounding the outer-flaps of flesh was smeared with thick gobs of the jelly, as were the outer lips and the delicate, wet membrane inside the twat itself which quivered with dire anticipation.
"Very well, Cherie," Marie murmured. "Now, bring your head down and I'll tell you what to do-just how to go about it-to have a real feast for yourself."
Shaking more audibly than ever, Dick acquiesced: To his dismay but not to his surprise, he found that the cunt still smelled rancidly to him-indeed, just like some old, moldy cheese would. Then, to help him, he remembered her recent words of wisdom: "Once you get past the smell, you've got the twat licked!"
So he exerted the utmost inner will-power to make him bring his head near and close. It took quite some more minutes, but finally he ventured to place his lips lightly on the outer-lips... after still some more minutes to lick it with his tongue... and ultimately to eat, lightly and testingly, still suspicious: To his joyous amazement, young Dick found that the twat not only smelled cheesy, but tasted that way, too, and, along with the gobs of raspberry-preserves she had so generously spread all over there, blended ideally, affording him the best cheese-cake possible-indeed, the best slab of cheese-cake he had ever eaten.
It was so rich and creamy, tangy and delicious.
Yum-yummy!
With a sudden insight, young Dick now realized why some male cunt-eaters had been so. carried away as to name a pair of lovely female-legs and what was housed between them as "cheese-cake."
And Marie, with those long, streamlined gams of hers to straddle the hair-pudding with, was quite a dish for any male-eyes to behold-quite a dish, indeed!...
It took a lot of patience and fortitude on Marie's part, but after several such get-togethers, she finally inspired and instructed young Dick sufficiently, so that he was almost reasonable approximation of that old, little Frenchman from her adolescent-girlhood-days back home: Almost as good, but not quite.
But by way of compensation, the face, which became improvised into an abstracted blonde-cunt, was more cherub-like. Then too, also being a blonde such as she was, herself, inflated Marie's Narcissistic-ego no end.
In any case, she managed to get young Dick to acquire the proper knack and tempo of eating cuntal-hair-pudding-of licking and lapping with the demure tip of his tongue, while he chewed with his mouth, but placed the lips tautly over the teeth-so as not to bite her in a forgetful moment and thereby do her precious snatch considerable injury: Truth to tell, if anything, it was the big, wide gash for hungry outer-labia-lips and inner jaws of her ever raging enormous twat, which sometimes threatened to completely eat up, devour and swallow his pretty, cherub-like face, which was ever so busy, twitching arid quivering away like a fresh young cunt for its own part as it spiritedly ate her...
On subsequent occasions, lest he get tired of cheese-cake with a raspberry-preserve-topping, Marie would resort to various other flavors of jelly. Particularly pineapple-preserves proved most apropos, naturally producing pineapple cheese-cake, which was indeed, the most popular of such blends of cheese and jelly of them all. This being young Dick's ultra favorite, he found it to be real rich and creamy, tangy, pungent and incomprehensibly delicious: Yum-yummy again!
In later, more recent years, there was a company which cashed in on just such a boudoir-innovation conjured up by the more enterprising, inventive souls. It is called "Joy Jells," and according to an article in "Uncensored Magazine" on the latest mores of the American people where it is mentioned in passing, this company has as many different flavors of its product on the market as "Howard Johnson" has of its ice-cream. And, as the author of this article astutely noted about such a phenomenon: "My, how greatly have American tastes changed in recent years!"
In the very same connection in this article, another kindred product was pointed out, which is also quite popular for gift-giving of fellows to their girls. It is called "Mother Fukka's fine milk-chocolates."
Be that as it may, Marie Lanvin resorted to diverse flavors of jelly smeared on her big, wide gash for a cunt, to provide young Dick with the proper variety: When she felt she smelled fresh and clean, having recently taken a bath to achieve such a state, she knew that her twat correspondingly smelled cheesy, and would, accordingly, use some flavor of jelly.
But if she had been lazy and had neglected to take a bath, knowing that her twat smelled fishy, in accordance with this, she would put on either a sharp, pungent Tartar or Tabasco sauce.
In such an instance, while she might have tasted sweeter to young Dick than the most select dish of lobster or shrimp would, the fiery-hot sauce never failed to burn his lips, and indeed, made his entire mouth feel as if it were on fire for hours afterward.
Marie would laugh at him, guffawing heartily, and to compensate his injured ego and seared mouth, she would permit him to get out the hairbrush, turn herself up and over his lap, and let him lay on a dozen scorching cracks or so on her bare, provocative rump.
So it was, that after some weeks went by at indulging in this sort of thing, young Dick became a precociously true gourmet and connoisseur of "French foods"-quite a one, indeed.
And, he was rather proud of this achievement. He knew, or at least Marie had told him, that every fellow couldn't achieve such a status, even if he was afforded a comparable opportunity as he was with this proverbial human French restaurant.
As Marie, herself, one time so succinctly and pointedly put it: "A fellow must have the right... stomach for that sort of thing-to enable him to continuously eat such rich... foods!... " And apparently, young Dick-he had "such a stomach"-and THEN SOME!...
CHAPTER TWELVE
Finally, the almost inevitable happened when Marie Lanvin was slated to take her leave of the Kingsley household altogether. It was coming to pass because an influential theatrical-agent had taken a liking to her, and wanted her to come live with him as his permanent mistress. Since he could keep her in the luxury she desired and also could do much to further her having a career on the stage, Marie readily agreed.
But before taking her actual leave, Marie called young Dick in and told him about it, although she deliberately refrained from going in to the actual details of the actual precipitating-factor. She merely told him: "I am leaving here-leaving this home and you for good."
"You are?" Dick gasped. "But, why?" he inquired, on a definite note of glumness and despair. "Aren't you... happy here?"
"Yes, of course I am. It isn't that, Cherie."
"Then what-"
"It's entirely for personal... reasons of my... own."
"Oh."
"In a way, I'm quite sad about it," Marie mused, somewhat mournfully, "as I've grown as attached to you as I would to my own son."
Saying this, she simultaneously ran her hand through his pretty blond hair and patted the back of his head affectionately.
Then she resumed talking smoothly: "But, in your case, I feel quite safe in doing so at this time-leaving you, that is, entirely to your o resources."
"Why? How is that, Marie?"
"Because you have learned all that I have to teach you a French girl. Actually, you know all there is to know how to please a woman, any woman-and how she c please you."
"That, I do, Marie-thanks to you," stated Dick mo reverently.
"So with your own striking good looks and natural appeal for the opposite sex, along with the terrific technique I have had you work up and evolve, you should have absolutely no trouble in getting new playmates for t' boudoir."
"Nobody could ever take your place in my life or m heart, Marie dearest," young Dick exclaimed, qui sincerely and tearfully.
"Arrr, that's real sweet," Marie acknowledged, petting him anew. "But really, I'm quite old for you; honest I There are many young girls around-those in your o age-group-who will be only too happy and delighted have a handsome young boy like you to bestow his favor upon them."
"But I don't want anybody else but you, Marie," Di moaned forlornly.
"Of course not. Right now, you don't. But you soon, in time; be assured of that, Cherie. And you c count yourself as being quite lucky, too."
"How is that, Marie?"
"To be your age and already have such dive experience and skill, making you definitely precocious an mature in comparison with all your school-mates. N doubt, they're all still at the jerking-off stage. While you I polished and skilled enough to please any woman. So y have a long life of sexual-bliss in front of you, Cherie-f longer and more fulfilling than most others customarily have at your tender age. Therefore, 'count your blessings Cherie, instead of pining away about my leaving you."
"Yes, Marie dearest," Dick acquiesced. "But still, even so, I'll miss you; honest, I will. There will always be a special place for you closest to my heart," he exclaimed sincerely, on the verge of tears. "Arrr, you're sweet," Marie exclaimed, showering his face with kisses. "And for you in my heart, too-there will always be a place," she finished off, softly but huskily-emanating from the innermost depths of her ever pulsating and throbbing womb...
Almost in direct conjunction with Marie Lanvin taking her permanent leave of the Kingsley-household, young Dick's older sister, Harriet took hers, also. It happened several weeks later, and came about when her steady beau, Malcolm Crowe finally "threw in the towel" and asked her to marry him. Since he wanted a quick elopement instead of a long drawn-out affair-lest he change his mind, Harriet readily consented, and they set a definite day for this to come to pass.
So it was, that Harriet Kingsley must have "played her cards correctly," to hook such a big, juicy fish as Malcolm Crowe was: a fellow who came from a wealthy, influential family, and who was an up-and-coming corporation-lawyer in his own right. And since he had really "been around," with divorcees, call-girls and the like, Harriet could really count it "as a feather in her cap" to hook him: Therefore, in the final analysis, Harriet was forced to conclude in retrospect, that all of her promiscuous activities and sexual-indulgences proved to be "a help instead of a hindrance" as to achieving her ultimate goal-of being thoroughly married and domesticated in some place in Outer-Suburbia-that reputed Shangri-La of the middle-class.
As with Marie Lanvin, Harriet also called Dick in and told him of her plans, although she was more candid on one hand, and also more formal and condescending toward him on the other.
When Dick learned what she was going to do, he replied: "Well, I wish you the best of luck, Sis, and the utmost happiness with this Crowe fellow; honest, I do."
"Thank you, Richard," she replied grudgingly and coolly -as if, indeed, there was still the naturally inhibited barrier between them that usually prevails with an older sister and her young kid brother-as if they had never been intimate in any way whatsoever at all. Then she went on, seemingly thinking-out-loud speculatively: "My only real regret is, frankly, leaving you all alone here you your own resources, Richard, because you threaten to become the wildest and most incorrigible Kingsley of them all, judging in the direction you seem to be heading in. However, I have my own life to live-a thoroughly rational and tranquil one-I hope. But I will keep on visiting you and our parents from time to time, of course."
Harriet said all this as if she had been reciting a carefully rehearsed speech in that typical manner of hers, which was quite rapidly, with a definite nervous edge to it which bordered on hysteria, so that Dick couldn't get a word in edgewise even if he wanted to: So he waited until she was finished, then couldn't resist exclaiming, quite sarcastically and sneeringly: "Arrr, come off of it, Sis. Stop pretending that your shit and piss don't stink like the rest of us mere mortals does."
"What's this? What's this you say, you little Devil, you?" Harriet screeched in amazement.
"That's right, Sis; you heard me correctly. What makes you think you're so high and mighty, anyway?" Dick's contention took a scornful rhetorical bend. "You like to fuck, suck and have your ass fondled and played with as much as all the rest of us, only you're too proud and hypocritical to admit it, and I know it," he exclaimed most meaningfully. "So please stop handing me that shit, will you, now?"
Harriet was so aghast, that she didn't know what to say. Her eyes were fairly bulging out of the sockets of her head, and her mouth twitched mutinously. Finally, she managed to get her bearings sufficiently to gasp out: "You're impossible, Richard-utterly impossible. You're too much." Then, seemingly thinking-out-loud and in utter sincerity, she speculated: "Perhaps you will be better off without having me around here, at that. Because, for some strange reason or another, I seem to have a most adverse effect on you."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Sis," Dick chirped back. "It's just that you're such a nice pretty, juicy piece, that I can't resist you." He said this the way he imagined his Uncle Walt would.
But instead of feeling flattered, his endearing words made her feel more horrified and ashamed than ever; "Shut up, you," she snarled. "Shut up, you filthy little beast, before I slap your evil, leering face for you, but good."
"Yes, Sister, dear," Dick replied, but mockingly. "And, in any case, I wish you the best of luck. And, I sure am sorry to see you leave here."
"Thank God I'm getting away from all this madness," Harriet declared. "Thank GOD!" she reiterated even more emphatically. "It's like getting out of a House of Horrors and outside into the bright sun-light once more. So, thank God, I say. Thank GO-OOOD!... "
Indeed, Dick was sorry to see his older sister, Harriet go, because, along with her, went the second and last of his present direct outlets for sexual purposes.
To be sure, he felt quite elated with himself, especially in view of the praise that Marie Lanvin had bestowed upon him. She also claimed it would be easy for him to find girls of his own age "to play fun and games with."
However, this was easier said than done!
With both Harriet and then Marie, "familiarity breeds contempt," meaning, in this context: that being close at hand, he could get something personal on them and force them to let him have his way: With Harriet, it was her secret tryst with Pete Roan which he had on her. Either she let him spank her ass, (and then surreptitiously fucked her when she was off guard) or he had threatened to tell her steady beau, Malcolm Crowe, on her, which would have certainly ruined any possible chance she had of marriage with him. And while he was at it, he also threatened to tell Roan, too, which could have led to sheer havoc with a man who was as emotionally-charged and scatter-brained as Roan was.
With Marie, having overheard the conversation between his parents periodically that she was a petty thief, he went about deliberately framing her. Then too, Marie hadn't put up too much opposition. Being a devout Masochist, the threat of being soundly spanked didn't bother her one iota; if anything, she welcomed and relished it. It also amused her, to get someone as young, pretty and inexperienced as Dick was at the time into her nefarious clutches, so that she could fuck him up, but good: It gave her a real perverse thrill to do that, especially to a young American boy, Dick later on in life realized.
And, since he actually was asking for it, by virtue of his framing her into letting him spank her bare, saucy ass, she could not suffer any real compunctions of guilt, either.
In any case, it no longer mattered what either of their motivations were-either Harriet's or Marie's. They were both gone-out of his life forever. So he had to seek new girls for a direct libidinal outlet. And, has had been pointed out before, this was easier said than done: Dick was sixteen and in his sophomore-year at high-school before he obtained a new victim for his spanking-urges. For nearly a whole year prior to that and after having lost his two previous victims, he had to content himself in the main to purely look, select girls who appealed to him, and jerk himself off at night, thinking about the many things he would do to them if he was ever afforded the opportunity.
Oh, to be sure, a couple of times, he was tempted to make advance-strike up an acquaintance with some fetching young female-morsel or other at the coed high-school-but decided not to: He very well realized, that there was too much risk involved to try to spank the ass of some strange girl, without having something on her. It could lead to far too many repercussions.
For example, assuming he went through the usual channels, approached a girl of his choice and tried to date her. Then assuming still further, she dug him and consented to go out with him. Finally conjuring up some pretext or other of her frustrating him, he turned her up and over and did spank her saucy bum. Then what?
Well, she could tell her parents about it, for one thing, and if she had a big, strong father, could come and kick the living shit out of him.
Then, assuming the father was small and meek type, he might go to the police and have Dick arrested for physically molesting his daughter. However, this was hardly likely, as no father would want to get his daughter publicly disgraced.
Truth to tell, the most likely threat of all emanated from the given girl herself: Instead of making a real big deal out of it with him and going to her parents, she would probably take the spanking quietly where they were concerned. But, in the long run, it would prove most costly to Dick, as she would tell all her close, intimate girl-friends about the incident, tagging him as "a real weirdo and queer jerk," thereby ruining his social-life in high-school for the entirety of his duration there, until he graduated.
Why, if word got around-which it almost invariably did through any school-grapevine-even the fellows wouldn't want to have anything to do with him. They would also shun him and put him down as "a real weirdo and queer jerk!"
Last but not least, was the traumatic-effect of that incident back in junior high school, when he tried to feel up a girl's lilting behind on the staircase and had gotten a terrible calling-down, dispersed with several ringing slaps across his face.
It was precisely at this conjecture in his life that he had withdrawn into his proverbial shell comparable to the frightened turtle. From that time on, he was content to merely look, get a good image which he would mentally focus on his mind, for jerking-off purposes later at night, when he would activate the given image in conjunction with his anal-sadistic fantasies.
This interim was prior to his having his way with either his sister or Marie Lanvin.
Now, he was fated to have another such lengthy interim, of approximately a year's duration, after having and then losing them due to circumstances. It was quite a ludicrous situation, really. Dick was caught in an acute dichotomy: On one hand, he felt mature, confident and brazen, having just freshly come off of two such older women.
On the other hand, there was the shameful memory of that traumatic-incident back in junior high school, when an irate, tough girl who took no shit from anybody, gave him both a verbal and physical chastisement, making him feel so humiliated and embarrassed, that he wanted to sink in to the very ground and die.
So in this dire state of mental-confusion and inner-turmoil, the contradiction was perpetuated, manifested as hesitancy and doubt, (which, indeed, was the main psychological mechanism in the compulsive-compulsive type) that Dick was.
It wasn't until his sophomore-year in high-school that Dick was afforded the natural opportunity to gratify his fantasies in reality once again, and provided with a new fetching female-morsel of flesh.
As it turned out, she was a real lulu, and so were his subsequent escapades with her.
Yes, for the very first time in his life, young Dick was due to become directly involved with a girl who was a total stranger. And, once the ice was broken, it was destined to thaw out and melt, so that Dick would never be timid and reticent about approaching a strange young female again-not ever!...
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"I realize we hardly know each other," the dark, sultry girl explained apologetically after coming up to Dick, "but I would like to have a talk with you, if you don't mind, Dick."
"Why, sure," Dick fairly yelped with enthusiasm, as he had a fantastic hard-on for this very girl for weeks now. Then his burning curiosity got the better of him as he inquired, "What about, Adele?"
"It's really quite... personal and... private," she replied mysteriously. "I mean, it only concerns me and my own problems."
"I see-eee," Dick commented musingly, doing his very utmost to sound adult, all-wise and mature-the super-duper father-image which he surmised she was seeking in him-or at least the big-brother one. "Very well," he exclaimed generously, "I'll do my very best to help you. So, what exactly is your problem, Adele?"
"Couldn't we go somewhere that well be afforded a bit more... privacy, Dick?" she said rhetorically, gazing around her at the various figures scurrying around them, almost in a circle, who were connected with Joan of Arc, the school-play they were doing and in which Adele took the lead of Joan.
This significant looks of hers connoted the intended message to Dick.
"Why, sure, Adele," he replied amiably. "Can't see no reason why not, as rehearsal is over for the day. So let's go down to the ice-cream-parlor down the corner. All right by you, Adele?"
"Swell, Dick!"
So taking her by the arm, together they left the school-auditorium and went to their intended destination!...
New Paths, the private high school which they attended, was one of those ultra-modern of such schools which have sprung up on the educational-horizon in more recent years.
It was housed in a Cubistic building, in the Frank Lloyd Wright tradition, and they taught according to the dictums laid down by John Dewey on the tenets of Modern Education: In conjunction with this, they stressed creative individuality and initiative for all the pupils, so that they could ascertain and express the talents peculiar to themselves.
The school was coed, since it was viewed as being a healthier psychological atmosphere for adolescents, particularly by adherents of the Psychoanalytic-school. Nevertheless, there was a marked differentiation between both the attitude and courses given to the two sexes: Almost anticipating the women's liberation movement and in apologizing, patronizing answer, they placed a plaque on the wall which quoted Erich Fromm, who said: "Yes, I believe in equality between the two sexes, but at opposite ends of the pole!"
Carrying such a dictum out in practice meant, that the boys were given courses in creative work, peculiar to their one respective talents, which would properly prepare them to go on to college and then out into the commercial-world where they would have to compete in the turbulent rat-race of making a good living.
Whereas, the girls were essentially given courses centered around the domestic-periphery, which would mainly prepare them to assume the role of modern housewives and mothers.
However, in certain instances and quite inevitably, there were certain fields where, by the very nature of them, the two sexes merged together and overlapped. And since they had a real good course on the theater at New Paths, it manifested itself here. The subtle male-supremacist attitude also became clear in this area, particularly in the person of the strict and exacting Tectonically-oriented director for the course, Otto Kreisler.
Now, in most high-school plays, it was sufficient if the players could just remember their lines and go through the motions of playing the given role, regardless of how listlessly, by rote, they performed. But not at New Paths, especially with a director from the "old school" like Otto Kreisler at the helm, sitting in the proverbial driver's seat.
Using the quite plausible motivation, that he was preparing them to become professional actors and actresses, instead of just being mere dilettantes who were indulging in a passing-fancy and lark-mainly for the gratification of their parents and relatives when they performed the play, then promptly forgot about it and its meaning in their lives altogether-he bore down and was very demanding of both sexes, but particularly the girls.
He would rant and rave, foaming at the mouth, openly and caustically insulting them, reducing them to virtual tears, and if he really had his way, Dick felt certain, he would whip their bare behinds with a switch constantly. But since it was a private school, their parents were paying a generous tuition and there were strict laws against corporal punishment of children on the books, he had to contain himself in this regard.
So Kreisler indulged in his Sadism with the fair sex psychically and verbally. He did so even when the girls only assumed minor, subsidiary roles in a given play. But with a play such as Joan of Arc, where a girl had the actual lead, he became a virtual wild man.
As had been pointed out before, the part of Joan was given to Adele Manning. Kreisler had grudgingly given it to her because he felt she most closely approximated the physical-attributes of the character of Joan that the play called for, although her certainly felt there were other girls in the dramatic-class of his who were far more apropos as actresses. But "wanting to have his cake and be able to eat it, too," he selected Adele.
He made her life a sheer Hell. Day after day, rehearsal after rehearsal, he reduced her to tears by calling her to task for the basic-portrayal of Joan. And, objectively speaking, one would have to grudgingly admit that he was correct in his contention, because Adele perennially went through the part like a girl who was merry and having a ball, instead of facing the ordeal of being burned at the stake for being a witch and martyr.
Then again, on the other hand, Kreisler was carrying on in vain, since a person can hardly ever "jump out of his or her skin." This meant, that one had to take account of Adele Manning's personal background, as the basis of her personality, before one could consider that personality itself: Adele' s father was a professional-diplomat, and her mother came from a very wealthy and influential family in the upper-crust, and was quite active and important in high-society-one of the noted celebrities who constantly appeared in the various newspaper society-columns.
Adele was their only child, "the apple of their eye," and granted her every wish and desire since she had been little. In short, she could be considered as a sophisticated-tinged spoiled brat.
And if that alone wasn't enough, Adele turned out to be quite a fetching and enticing creature in her own right, and sought after by the opposite sex since her early teens: Now, at sixteen going on seventeen in several months, Adele was of medium height for a female, but rambunctiously built. She had the dark, sultry skin of her father and should have been a brunette, but was just as apropos and even more rare a beauty with her auburn coiffure.
She had Patrician aristocratically-cast features and hazel eyes which changed colors, according to what she was wearing, like those of a chameleon.
Taking movie actresses as a basis for comparison, Adele most closely approximated the Diane Baker and Elizabeth Ashley types, but was more like the former in both face and body.
So, since she was a girl who had everything going for her in life, it was no wonder that she was essentially cheerful and happy inwardly-condescending, sassy and real cool outwardly. After all, she had her whole life in front of her, and ever since she was a child, had been brought in the company of the most important and influential people in the whole land. Nobody and nothing really fazed her.
It was when she reached puberty that she developed the whim to be an actress. And while her parents rather frowned upon this aspiration, they granted her the opportunity by sending her to New Paths, where she could have a combination of a course in the theater, along with the requisite courses in cooking, sewing, keeping house and learning how to be a proper female-the parents, of course, hoping against hope that her theatrical ambitions were just a passing-fancy with her, and she would ultimately settle down with some eligible young man in a few years hence.
So here was definitely one girl where "the whole World was her oyster," and she knew it. And while such a girl, taken in totality, certainly was "the apple of their eyes" with her parents, with two males such as Otto Kresiler and young Dick, she impressed them both as a sassy, stuck-up, impudent young bitch, who brought out the urge, to the utmost, to soundly spank her saucy, spoiled rump.
She especially affected young Dick this way. Before she ever approached him, even he lay awake many a night, beating his meat and thinking about getting her in his powers, having her imprisoned and bound helplessly in chains in some dark, subterranean dungeon, and whipping the living shit out of her.
Yes indeed, Adele Manning was one girl who was perfect spanking-material for him, he had reflected excitedly at the time.
Better than that, even: She was ideal!...
Sitting across from her now in the also ultra-modern ice-cream parlor, with its sleek, shiny black-onyx round tables and chrome contoured-frames, the chairs also being covered with some black plush material and with the juke-box constantly blaring forth an assortment of mostly, in those days, Swing-numbers and torch-ballads, rendered an aura of unreality as Dick took full cognizance of this living doll and felt his throbbing young cock persistently and steadily grow: Adele Manning was dressed rather simply, in perfect accord with the rest of the girls at New Paths in those days. But the apparel was quite expensive, and the total ensemble did wonders for her: She was wearing a pullover baby-pink cashmere sweater, which was taut-fitting and made her high, proud gourds for tits stand up like beacons, the shade accentuating and rendering sparkling lights to her dark auburn coiffure, which was simply set leaving it fall naturally straight and just up to her shoulders in what was known as "the Ella Cinders look," and was also reminiscent of Diane Baker in this Day and Age.
She wore a light beige skirt, full-length white bobby-socks and soft brown flat moccasins to set the entire outfit off. The color of the skirt highlighted the natural bantam-golden tincture to her skin, which could only occur with people in adolescence and which they usually lost, it becoming an assimilated white later on, when they grew older and otherwise could only be rendered by meticulous and painstaking sun-tan treatments such as Marie Lanvin took.
The full-length white bobby-socks, which came up over the ankles, seemed to give a girl who was more voluptuously built, a solid, powerful but graceful symmetry to the legs, which was further intensified by the flat-heeled moccasins.
Adele's hazel-colored huge eyes had a serious look to them as she toyed with the sundae Dick had bought her, and since they changed color with whatever basic ensemble she wore, seemed to be a radiant copper-toned hue to him just then. Her perfect Patrician, aristocratic-cast face frowned and creased with concern as she divulged to him the pressing problem that was foremost on her mind: It came as really no surprise to Dick, what she related. In essence, it boiled down to this: She felt that Otto Kreisler, the director of the dramatic-class, was unfairly picking on her and singling her out for verbal-abuse-either because he didn't like any girls-or he was sour on her personally.
And, the reason she had come to Dick was because he came from a very famous theatrical family, and was quite a good actor in his own right, even though Joan of Arc really offered no outstanding part to a male; nevertheless, his ability and technique shined through.
Without feeling the least bit conceited, Dick felt that Adele's praise was justified and well-deserved: To account for his development as an actor, there were those "woodshedding lessons" with his Uncle Walt that memorable Summer, and, in his view, most important of all, those little skits he had improvised in conjunction with Marie Lanvin, working up to some sexual-nuance-usually for him to assume the role of Big Daddy and spank her saucy bottom-which taught him, better than anything else ever could, the necessary tension to build up to the dramatic-crescendo where the "Obligatory Scene" would naturally culminate in "Unity in Terms of Climax."
Whereas, if he had learned these lessons in a school, with some dull, dreary pedant instructing him from some text, it would have all seemed remote, vague and decidedly abstract to him. But now, it was as real and vivid to him as breathing, especially since he was a naturally-born actor, anyway, and had a definite feeling for the theater, which was an absolute must-irrespective of any and all instruction a fledging young actor could possibly receive.
To logically explain and motivate his playing the role of a big man and having the necessary excuse, as a go-ahead signal, to turn across his lap, bare her saucy rump, and spank a saucy, sensuous creature such as Marie Lanvin irrefutably was-this was something he could really understand and get with!
Dick continued to hear Adele out in relative silence, hardly injecting a remark, sipping on his own black-and-white ice-cream soda, but taking particular cognizance and delight at the way her high, proud tits rose and heaved against the tight, clinging confines of her pullover cashmere sweater when she became carried away on a wave of gushing emotion.
Finally feeling that she had divulged all she had to tell him, he queried of her: "So exactly what do you want me to do for you, Adele? What do you want me to tell you?"
"How to cope with that brutal beast, Otto Kreisler, and to stop him from picking on me all the time. Why, he even threatened to throw me out of the play altogether and replace me with my understudy, Laura Rhodes. So what am I to do, Dick? How can I appease him to let up on me?"
"You want my honest answer, Adele?"
"Of course."
"I don't think Kreisler is really your problem."
"You don't?" she gasped in shock. "What is my 'problem,' then?"
"Yourself."
"How so?"
"This might sound crazy and ridiculous, but you're a girl who has everything in life, realizes it and is very happy about it, and shows it when she performs on stage."
"I am? I do? But, really, Dick, 'you can't expect me to jump out of my own skin,' can you?"
"Yes, to be a real good actress, you must. You have to throw yourself completely into the role you are playing."
"True," she conceded. So?"
"Now, the role of Joan calls for a girl to play a martyr. Joan is high-spirited and has led the French army to victory, only to be accused of heresy because she refuses to bend to the will of the church and concede their total authority. She claims to have a direct line with God, and is carrying out his mission through her."
"I'm perfectly aware of all that, Dick. So?"
"To capture the spirit and essence of Joan, you must portray a girl who will stick to her convictions even in the face of being turned over to the dreaded inquisition to be tortured, then burned at the stake like a witch. And, while she is spared enduring the torments of The Inquisition, she doesn't escape being burned at the stake. So everything the girl who portrays Joan on stage-every word, move and gesture-must be done with being burned at the stake in mind, and the ostensible conflict over it. Do I make myself clear, Adele?"
"Yes. Of course. But what am I to do, specifically?"
"To bring it properly off, you can't play a girl who is happy with life, has every luxury, and is merrily romping through the part as an interim between returning to the happy, affluent life she leads where 'the whole World is her oyster.' Rather, you must play a girl who is caught in a mental-conflict, and is suffering, but underneath it all is a devout Masochist, where being burned at the stake represents supreme ecstasy and fulfillment for her-the final and ultimate rapture."
"But I'm not a 'Masochist,' " Adele whined. "I'm a happy, healthy girl who enjoys life and doesn't want to suffer it she can help it. Like I said before, Dick, 'I can't very well jump out of my own skin!' "
"Oh yes you can. Adele, if becoming a good actress means so much to you."
"It does, Dick. Oh, it do-oooes."
"There's a way, then."
"But, how?"
"And I can help you," he said, being deliberately vague and mysterious.
"You can? But, how?"
"Let me ask you something first, which will seemingly be off the issue, but is not-is directly related to it."
"Why, of course. Go right ahead, Dick."
"Have you ever been hit in your whole life, by either of your parents or even somebody else?"
"Well, not really. Oh yes, once, when my governess was quite peeved with me, she gave me a couple of quick slaps across the face."
"How did they feel exactly?"
"Well, they didn't hurt too much; just stung a little for a few moments. She was afraid to hit me too hard, for fear lest I tell my parents on her.
"But you've never been hit aside from that?"
"Well, maybe my mother also slapped me once or twice. I'm not sure. At least, I don't remember her doing it."
"But you've never been turned across anyone's lap, had your bottom bared, and been soundly spanked?"
"Certainly not!" Adele retorted, most indignantly. "Civilized people don't do that; only barbarians and savages. Why, my parents wouldn't even think of doing that to me, or letting anyone else do it, either; they have far too much decorum and grace."
"To be sure," said Dick impatiently. "But how do you imagine a spanking feels if you would get one?"
"Well, it would-hurt, I imagine, And the harder and longer the spanking, the more it would hurt;"
"Correct. But exactly how would it 'hurt?' "
"I don't quite know what you're driving at now, Dick?"
"I'll try to clarify my thought for you: If you ever accidentally bunked yourself, you felt a benumbing shock to the given area, right?"
"Well... yes. So?"
"If you were spanked, it would hurt, but not in the same way, Rather, it would blister and burn. And, of course, quite obviously, the harder and more severe the spanking, the more intensified would be this blistering, burning feeling."
"Yes, I can very well visualize that. But what has that got to do with my properly playing the role of Joan in the play?"
"Everything, Adele," he exclaimed triumphantly. "At the end of the play, she's burned at the stake, remember?"
"Yes. So?"
"That's the ultimate spanking. So if you had a regular spanking or series of them, you would know how it might feel to be burned at the stake-receive this ultimate spanking I postulate."
"But, who on Earth is going to spank me? And, for doing what? I haven't done anything wicked or bad, so that I deserve to be spanked."
"It isn't a question of that; it's rather what we in the theater call 'woodshedding.' Every serious young fledging actor, of both the sexes, got it in the good old days in Europe. And, I confess, that accounts for my own rapid development as an actor, which you claim that I have. I went to my Uncle Walt for acting lessons one Summer, and that's precisely how he trained me and another girl-his stepdaughter-who was also there at the time."
"Oh, really. But that's utterly ridiculous. Why, the whole idea is preposterous."
"It all depends, Adele,... "
"On what?"
"Just how badly you want to be an actress."
"I want to be one, all right-more than anything."
"And would you be willing to put up with some really good sound spankings to achieve your goal?"
"Perhaps. But who could I ever get to spank me, even saying I was willing to submit?"
"Why, I'll be glad to oblige you, Adele," he tried to make himself sound solemn and keep the tenseness and feeling of fervent anticipation out of his voice. "I mean, not that I want to spank you personally, understand?" he quickly added. "But if it has to be done, I will consent to do it. So what do you say, Adele?"
"I'll... think about... it, Dick. I'll... give you my... answer in a few... days. All right?"
"Okay by me, Adele. Whatever you say." He rendered a magnanimous flourish to connote he wasn't concerned what her actual decision was-one way or the other: But he was concerned-more anxious for a positive answer than he had ever been before about anything in his entire life.
And, in a few days, he got it from her, and in the exact same ice-cream parlor: The answer was "YES," and they mutually agreed on a definite time and place.
Dick could picture that big, high, full ass of hers bouncing against the hard palm of his eager right hand already, a priori: He could, he could-he surely, surely COULD!...
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They went to the club-room of the girls' fraternity at the school which Adele Manning belonged to, and she was assured that none of the other girls would be there at the time.
It was a rather small, quaint club-room, with the female-touch being quite manifest: There was a phonograph covered with a cloth of a floral-pattern, and dainty white cabinets to keep' phonograph-records and various things which would usually be found in a child's play-room.
There were Modernistic chairs, with orange plush seats and various wooden ones scattered about. But what Dick was interested in was the convertible-sofa, which was closed and covered with a red Chinese-design throw-cover. He went right there and sat himself down in the middle, already beckoning to Adele: "All right, Adele, lovely one, come to your Master now so that he can 'whip you into shape.' "
"I still think that the whole thing is utterly ridiculous," Adele indignantly exclaimed. "Why, the very idea-to have to be spanked in order to become an actress. It's utterly absurd!"
"Maybe so," Dick retorted, "but I'm afraid, that's how it is, Adele. If a person wants to be an artist of any sort, he or she must be prepared to suffer. And since you wish to he an actress and take a quick short-cut for the part of Joan, this way is best-in fact, the only way."
"Well, I don't know." Adele still sounded quite skeptical. "I feel like calling the whole thing off."
But Dick hadn't come this far to be stopped now. He provided the clincher with: "You would like to show Otto Kreisler up, wouldn't you? And you don't want him to give your part to your understudy at the very last minute, do you. And that's what surely will happen unless you do as I say, Adele."
"Well, perhaps so," she muttered grudgingly.
"I know so. A torrid little spanking will make you really feel the part of Joan being burned at the stake, so that you'll intuitively be the greatest Joan of all time. True, you'll suffer and cry a bit, perhaps, but it'll be worth it, Think of the ultimate reward, Adele."
"I am, but I'm also thinking of the spanking, and how stupid, silly and downright unfair it is, especially since I haven't been wicked and bad, so that I don't really deserve one.
"You got the wrong idea, Adele, lovely one. This spanking isn't going to be a punishment as such. Rather, you should view it as 'a means to an end,' pure and simple. So what do you say? Are you ready to take it now? Are you up to it, huh?"
"Well, all right," Adele acquiesced, but still rather reluctantly.
Dick found it hard to conceal his joy: Everything inside of him was pounding, beating and racing at once. His heart and pulse beat like so many drums.
The beating became accelerated as Adele came over to him and lay down flush across his extended lap: It felt good to have the front of that luscious female-morsel and all of its soft, warm effervescent flesh sunken into his hard, bony thighs. However, quite regretfully, Dick stood her up again, back on her feet, anyway.
"What's the matter, Dick? What's wrong? You're not going to go through with spanking me after all?"
"No, not in your present state, Adele."
"But, why not?"
"Because, how can I really spank you this way-with both your skirt and panties up and intact? In order to be effective, it has to be done on the bare skin."
"Uh-uh, that's strictly out, Dick. If it has to be that way, then I'm chickening out."
Dick didn't want this to happen for anything, so he quickly countered with a compromise: "Are you wearing flimsy panties, Adele?"
"What business is that of yours?"
"Come on, don't play games with me."
"Well, yes, I am. They are quite thin, sheer and wispy."
"Good. So I tell you what: You can keep the panties up; you won't have to take them down. All you'll have to do, is raise your skirt up. Fair enough."
"Well, all right," Adele muttered. "But, I still don't like it. To be perfectly honest, I think you've invented an excuse to spank me for some sexual-purpose or other. I don't think it'll really do anything to make me a good actress at all."
"Nonsense," Dick shrugged this accusation off. "But if that's the way you feel, Adele, then perhaps it will be better if we call the whole thing off, at that."
"No-ooo, I'll do it, Dick. At least, I'll give it a try once and see what happens as a result."
"That's the proper spirit. Good girl! So now, raise your skirt up and let's be on with it."
As if she were doing so in slow-motion, Adele raised her skirt with numb, groping fingers, which finally succeeded in raising the skirt up all the way.
Dick's cock fairly jumped out of his pants at the rapt vision which greeted his hungry eyes: Adele was wearing a pair of pink panty-briefs with a white-laced bunting, which hugged and gripped the curvy, round vats of flesh for her delectable behind as if it was an additional layer of skin. And with her skirt raised, Dick could see and appreciate the full length and graceful symmetry of her long, strong, bantam-golden legs.
Impatient to get on with it, Dick's left hand clasped around the raised skirt, simultaneously pushing hers aside. He brought her in close to him, then over again. He bounced her around testingly until she fell snugly inside the crook of his lap. Then digging his left hand firmly into her waist, which also acted as a natural bulwark to keep the fully raised skirt from sliding down once he got started whacking away, he made her completely solidified.
Without neither any pause nor hesitation, he began cracking away. He decided to give it to her in real spanking-style at first-as if, indeed, Adele was some bad, naughty child. The spanks were short, medium-hard and rapid, seeming to land indiscriminately as the right hand moved from one cheek to the other.
Even though her panties were raised, Dick felt a distinct thrill surge through his being at the nice way the big, full vats of flesh bounced and vibrated off of the palm of his hand. In a way, the svelte, sleek feel of the tautened panty-briefs which so snugly hugged the flesh, made them feel even more tumescence-producing, so that Dick couldn't hold himself back from shooting a small load: That was another pertinent reason he made absolutely certain that he placed her in the crook of his lap-so that she couldn't feel his terrific, most obtrusive, throbbing hard-on-at least not yet.
As for Adele, from the moment he began cracking away, she started to yelp shrilly: "Ouch... ouch... ouch!"
But before she could get out any actual protest to him, he must have landed anywhere from ten to twelve spanks on both cheeks of her luscious ass, making it feel warm, and glowing to him already, even at such an early conjecture.
Finally she managed to exclaim, chanting at him: "Stop it, stop it, stop it!"
The velocity, he had worked up carried him and kept him going for another three or four cracks before he desisted, to ask of her in return: "Why? What's wrong, Adele?"
"It burns-burns something aw-fu-ll."
"I know. It's supposed to do that."
"But I don't like it, no how. It hurts like the dickens. And I don't want anymore part of it, even if it means I have to give up being an actress altogether. I can't take it; I just can't, Dick. At least if it were pleasurable, or even bearable, in some way, then I wouldn't mind so much. But-"
"It will be, Adele, shortly."
"
"Will be' what?"
"Pleasurable!"
"But-" Dick "threw all caution to the winds," tugging and pulling at the elastic-band on her panty-briefs. Then, before she could even realize what was happening to her, they were draped down around her thighs.
"Whatever are you doing now?" she inquired of him when it registered on her.
"Spanking you properly-the way you need to get it. And I guarantee I'll give you pleasure at the same time, too, the way you want. I'll make it enjoyable. I'll play with your pussy and give you a real good hand-job while I spank you. Okay, Adele? How does that sound, huh?"
"Perfectly horrible and awful. You let me up this minute, you sex-fiend. 'Cause if you don't, I'll report you to the police and have you arrested for molesting me, understand?"
Dick "understood" only too well. However, he was too far-gone to back down now, even if it meant he would be sent to some prison for life: "I'm going to do it, Adele. I'm going to do it anyway," he hissed, "despite your threats. It's for your own good, believe me. Oh, to be sure, you might hate me now, but later, when you see the magic it works for you as an actress, you'll thank and even bless me for this spanking. Besides, the glow and tingle will all be gone by then. And you'll even come back for more. Why, you'll even grow so accustomed to being spanked, that you'll come to enjoy it in time. You'll see."
The reason Adele Manning had let him speak for such a relatively long monologue was, because she was so incredulous, that she couldn't believe that this was real and actually happening to her. She thought it was some kind of nightmare she was having. But finally realizing that his horrible tableau that was enfolding was real and happening to her, she screeched shrilly in answer, with a marked undertone of panic bordering on hysteria: "Never mind that, sonny boy. You let me up this instant if you know what's good for you. I'll take my chances on being an actress without being spanked and manhandled by a young jerk like you. So, let me up. Let me up at once."
But Dick didn't let her up. Instead, he clutched her more tenaciously than ever. However, before proceeding with the real task he had set-for himself at hand, he took a few moments time out to gaze downward and feast his eyes on the wonderful, luscious sight which lurked beneath him: Adele Manning had a much bigger and fuller bottom than did either his older sister, Harriet, or Marie Lanvin, although surprisingly, Dick found the flesh to be firm and effervescent, and the mounds naturally upthrust. There was the same natural golden sheen to the cheeks of her ass as there was to the rest of her sultry, luscious entity, and, with the addition of the light red tinges from the first few slaps he had administered, it made the cheeks look like two giant-size Georgia peaches, with two perturbing dimples comparable to where stems would go with an ordinary peaches.
Since she was threshing and squirming all over his lap to try and elude his strong grasp, whenever Adele turned on her side, he could catch a good glimpse of her burnished-bronze, neat v-shaped twat, which was replete with two soft-looking but firm perfect buns for outer-lips.
The next time she wiggled over to her side, Dick placed his left hand directly on the twat, quickly relinquishing his grip around her waist. The fingers of his hand pinched strongly to establish a hold and make her stay put. Once this was achieved, he ran the rest of his fingers lightly, liltingly and soothingly along the thin red line between the outer-lips.
Adele became like a virtual wild woman now, threshing frantically, yelping her head off, finally exclaiming knowingly: "Arrr, I knew you were some kind of a sex-fiend and just wanted an excuse to get at my private-part. Leave it alone. Leave it alone this instant, or I'll have you put away for life. Do you hear, madman, huh?"
Dick "heard" only too well. However, he paid her no heed and persisted in working her delightful pussy between his fingers, just as he had been doing: He somehow sensed that she was a girl who jerked herself off, as she was precociously developed and seemed to be the passionate type by nature. He was gambling on having that one possibility going for him-that and that, alone. Otherwise, he was doomed.
Young Dick turned out to be correct in his hypothesis. Just before the juices of pre-secretion began to ebb and flow. Adele, screaming tremulously-more of a swoon of rapture than a scream actually-made one last-ditch valiant effort to work her way off of his lap. But to no avail. Now that the outer-lips of her juicy cunt had parted, Dick had already shot his hand all the way up and in there-into the very depths of the lobster-like walls-forking his hand over to clasp her firmly and securely.
Now, at last, he was ready to commence the real actual spanking: But initially, he made sure to keep himself under total control, in conjunction with his overall master plan. He didn't want to have lovely, sultry Adele this once, but many a time for such a tableau, and ultimately, to slip his cock to her between her shapely, curvy legs and into her juicy cunt.
So he resumed spanking her just as he had done before, in real spanking-style, only, this time, with every double-spank he delivered to the two delectably upthrust cheeks, he would adroitly ram his fingers up the walls of her snatch.
Even though he was only spanking her medium-hard, young Dick could tell that this was, indeed, the nicest girl-ass he had ever been privileged to spank. Because, even though Adele had an over-sized one, still, the flesh was bouncy and resilient, quivering most delightfully against his hard bony palm which constantly descended-like set molds of jello.
Adele put up a mock-protest, gasping out at him: "Stop it, stop it-oh, please, stop it-ttt."
But there was ever less and less conviction in her voice, which soon sounded more enmeshed in delirium and rapture than actual pain.
Dick kept right on tenaciously spanking away at her two ever quivering, bouncing balls for a behind, which slowly but surely, became thoroughly covered with an ever and ever deeper tinge of red. And in direct conjunction with this, the cheeks felt ever hotter and hotter to him, too.
Dick didn't know by the actual count how many spanks he had to deliver before the rigid state of tumescence set in with her, her snatch began to snap and quiver in the tell-tale sign that she was on the verge of coming.
Once this metamorphosis ensued, this acted as a definite signal to Dick to set him off. From there on out, he really blasted away-at her already scorching-hot bottom-and down to and encompassing the tender arced-creases of flesh that acted as natural connecting-links between the ass and the tapered thighs, then the slabs that were the backs of the thighs themselves.
The heavy, constantly droning cracking sounds produced by his rapidly wielded hand which was smacking away for all it was worth, putting the full force and weight of his shoulder behind each and every blow, swelled and grew and filled his eardrums, along with a pounding tom-tom in his head, until he felt sure they would burst.
He was still jerking her off more feverishly than ever, with his hand submerged into the innermost depth of her snatch-all the way up to the very wrist.
Adele was swooning in total delirium. She was panting, heaving and tossing about as little spasms that were a million snakes racked her passion-ridden, sultry entity, in the virtual throes of a St. Vitus Dance.
Her twat kept spurting and oozing, coming in gobs all over Dick's submerged, still frantically animated fingers, which felt all sticky and wet and strange sliding against the tender, sensitive but most pulsating membrane that was her snatch.
Dick kept giving it all he was worth-whacking away and jerking her off-until Adele finally petered off and stopped coming altogether.
But looking back at it now in retrospect, as he remembered it, "that sure was a long time in coming!... "
It took quite some time-a good number of weeks-before young Dick felt it was safe enough to put his cock to lovely, sultry Adele and get in-between her dreamy, creamy tapered thighs.
During that preceding interim, the spanking and hand-job rituals continued, and even became further intensified in their fervor.
True to his prediction, Adele realized the positive results of personally feeling "the fire that burned," via a torrid spanking immediately, in her ability to perform the role of Joan satisfactorily: It was as though a magic-wand had been waved over her, and Otto Kreisler, the Teutonic, exacting director, sensed it at once. And a new light kindling with respect came into his eyes.
In the weeks to come, he hardly called Adele to task anymore about the way she read a particular segment of the script. And even when he did, the way he did so was entirely different from the way he did it before, in the past: Previously, he would rant and rave and threaten to replace her with Adele's understudy. Whereas now, he would say: "Come on now, my dear. A good, brilliant young actress such as you can certainly do better than that!"
So it was, that even when he insulted her, he paid her a back-handed compliment.
As a result of this, in addition to her own Masochistic-libido, the spanking and jerk-off rituals with young Dick continued. And the more she indulged with him in them, the better her ability in playing the role of Joan increased, also, until she reached a point that the very part of Joan seem to have been tailor-made to her own special and unique personality.
Of course, while young Dick was telling her the truth in his contention: that by enduring spankings, she would vastly improve as an actress, in reality, his main motivation was to have a plausible excuse to have her submit to let him constantly spank her bare ass and have his way with her sexually: However, even though it was "purely a means to an end" on his part, and "sometimes the road to Hell is paved with the best of intentions," by the very same token and at the opposite' end as an anti-thesis, "the road to Heaven is sometimes paved with the very worst of them!"
As for Adele herself, the one danger inherent was, that she was becoming too Masochistic. Instead of asking him to go easier on the spanking-bit, she spurred him on to even greater savagery: "Harder," she would command him. "Whack me harder. Don't be afraid, my darling-you mad, crazy fool, you. Whack me as hard and long as you can. Beat the very skin off of my saucy rump, I love it so."
And Dick did his very best to oblige, so that by the time he got done with her for a given spanking-session, her entire backside would be such a livid and vivid red, that the hue of the flesh almost was purple!
But even this didn't seem to satisfy the insatiable Adele Manning. She was comparable to the way they say many drug-addicts were, who, having started out on marijuana, eventually progressed and went on to heroin, to derive an even greater kick and thrill, until they were hooked hopelessly and completely.
So it was with Adele Manning. And finally when she could no longer be satisfied with just a mere hand-spanking, regardless of how hard Dick bore down and whaled away, he progressed onto the utilization of a short hard-wood paddle-the kind they use for college-initiations and hazings-that Dick could finally get inside her drawers and put his cock to her.
In direct conjunction with the advancement to the paddle, Dick would more tenaciously jerk her off, practically shoving his whole fist up and in there-into the very womb-hitting its depths with each and every thrust.
Dick would take keen delight at the way the paddle would feel and sound as he wielded it. He would feel a little jolt shoot up his arm, starting at the wrist; the given mound would bounce emphatically, getting red-tinged, as it sounded like some steak that was being slapped with a meat-flattener and properly tenderized, to be fit to be eaten-and indeed, succulent, sultry, saucy Adele certainly was fit to be that by any man.
Adele would gyrate and undulate all over his lap. She would yelp shrilly and tremulously, but from sheer rapture and ecstasy rather than from any real feeling of pain as such.
The paddling-sessions were of much shorter duration than the preceding hand-spanking ones, for several quite pertinent reasons!
For one thing, the human-flesh couldn't take as much punishment from a paddle as it could from the hand, without being torn apart and ripped open.
Then, too, since the paddle felt so much more intense, savage and violent, Adele-especially in conjunction with the more violent jerk-offs that young Dick was giving her was made to pop off, come and cream that much faster and more fully from the delicious thrill of it all, which added up to a total Masochistic-experience in her still young life.
To put his cock to her was really quite simple in this paddling-context: One afternoon, before she was made to come, Dick quickly withdrew his hand and shoved his prick in-between the parted outer-lips of her juicy young twat instead.
After being permitted to take several thrusts, Adele got her wits about her and realized that something strange and alien had entered her pussy. So she exclaimed aloud, genuinely alarmed: "Dick, what is it you're doing to me?"
"Giving you a real thrill for a change, Adele, lovely one. Giving us both a thrill, as a matter-of-fact. Enough of this playing stinky-fingers. Time for you to get to know what a fellow's cock really feels like."
"It feels good, Dick," she acknowledged. "But I'm afraid. Something might go wrong. Then what?"
"Such as?"
"You could knock me up and give me a baby."
"Nonsense, my dear. I've put a condom on in advance, Don't you feel it?"
(Of course, this was many years before the advent of "the pill" and other more advanced contraceptive-methods such as they utilize today, in this Day and Age.) "But sometimes those things break, I hear," she whined.
"Not if you use a good, expensive one such as I'm doing. Now, just relax, let yourself go, and enjoy it."
"All right, Dick," she murmured. "On one condition."
"What's that, doll?"
"If something does go wrong, you'll promise to marry me."
"All right, 'I promise!' I would like to marry you some day anyway, Adele, as I love you so," he exclaimed, most sincerely.
"That being the case, my wonderful darling, you can have me. Take me, take me-oh, yes-take me all the way!"
And Dick did.
That was a real thrill, as he remembered it-a terrific charge: To have her lying across his lap, with him whacking away with the paddle at her big luscious ass, while his cock would sink into her sweet, sticky, juicy twat with each and every whack.
As additional incentives, he could feel her hard, hot tits brush against his legs and the symmetry of her full, solid, curvy legs as her thigh-muscles naturally quivered and had erratic spasms.
Finally, he would feel himself drawn into a warm, sticky barrel of honey-ever further, ever deeper-until, with one mighty explosion which would render both their beings, they came with all of their passion-juice that was housed in their throbbing loins with a surging, gushing roar...
Ultimately, young Dick got her to vary the procedure somewhat: First, he would whack her ass with the paddle until it was all red and hot and she was almost on the verge of coming. Then he would have her lie down, stark naked on the sofa, and stark naked himself, would mount her.
He would grab both cheeks of her red-hot, blistering, scorching behind with both of his hands, then drive into her with his cock, using it as if it were a club and he was intent on beating her pussy to smithereens with it.
Now he could really feel those hot, hard, upthrust tits against him. He could also feel the full symmetry of her juicy, rambunctious body, all palpitating and quivering with desire and want-especially those solid, leg-muscles wrapped around him, which drove him so wild.
Eventually, with experience, he worked up a nuance where he could pound both her pussy and her already thoroughly scourged behind at the very same time, driving both cheeks of the ass into the hard mattress as he delivered a savage, pounding thrust with his throbbing cock.
And he would keep right on doing this-ever harder, ever faster-pounding and driving away.
Then when he reached the peak of his crescendo, Adele would emit a long, shrill shriek and they would both come conjointly, popping off and creaming like mad.
And Dick, wanting to get all of the juice out of him, would keep right on going even after he had popped his nuts, until the condom became so filled with his cum on the inside and her maiden-juice outside, that it started to slip around like an elusive wet seal: It was then, and only then, that Dick would finally withdraw his still spurting, oozing member from Adele's infinite depths!...
Adele went on to become a truly captivating and memorable Joan in the play, doing everybody associated with it real proud.
And, it was no wonder. Having enjoyed such total Masochistic episodes with young Dick, she couldn't very well help be otherwise: Yes, if that was what being burned at the stake meant, to Joan in her unconscious-mind, to the direct contrary, lovely, sultry Adele Manning welcomed it quite consciously-"with open arms!-" As a matter-of-fact, Adele was even happy and big enough to confess as much as Dick overtly: "You know, Dick." she began, "I owe you an apology... "
"Oh? How is that, Adele? What for?"
"For thinking you just wanted to spank my bottom because you were some kind of sex-fiend. Instead, I now know you did it mostly for my own good as an actress."
"Oh, really?" Dick retorted, quite rhetorically and jubilantly.
"Yes, Dick. I've come to realize that."
"Well, I'm sure glad 'you've... come to... realize that'... by this... time!... "
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dick Kingsley finally married Adele Manning some 25 years later! It sound startling, but its true: Oh, he didn't actually marry Adele, as such, strictly speaking: he married her prototype. It could have just as well been Daphne Forbes, say, the lovely blonde girl that fateful Summer in his life, who his Uncle Walt had his way with. Yes, there were the same tell-tale characteristics prevalent with Daphne as there were later with Adele: She came from an upper-crust family, was very attractive and good-looking in that cool Grace Kelly sort of way, had been sent to the best charm-school to cultivate that pseudo sweetness, charm and grace, in that condescending way which clearly indicated that the World was her oyster and her shit didn't stink!
Then too, she was also deeply infatuated with the theater and ostensibly wanted, more than anything else, to be a professional actress: By the way, Adele Manning never made it as an actress, either. She didn't have any real talent, really. She could only portray that one role of Saint Joan, and that, because of the peculiar training which Dick had given her. So, in that sense, she had been defrauded and taken in by him, to give him the plausible excuse to have his way with her.
However, if Adele had been discovered by Otto Preminger, she might have had the same fate in the movies as did Jean Seberg: Preminger signed her up for that one Joan of Arc picture. When it was released and flopped, so was Miss Seberg!
She still managed to stay in the movies, mostly making graded foreign stiffs, floundering around and really getting no-place for years. For that matter, so did Carol Baker, of Baby Doll fame, have a comparable fate, although she made a good number of really big pictures out in Hollywood before they finally gave up on her.
But getting back to Dick Kingsley's ultimate wife, to sum up succinctly, she was the same mundane prototype as were Adele Manning and Daphne Forbes, which struck Dick as really funny when he meditated about it: Those girls from the upper-crust families pride themselves as being so outstanding and different individually from working-class girls. But put a bunch of them from the same age-group together in one room, chatting away, and it would seem as if they had been molded and cast from the exact same dye-just like those poor working-class girls who pounded a mean typewriter-when they got together socially.
Dick's ultimate wife, whose name was Rita Munson, went for him because she was infatuated with the theater, on one hand, and went ga-ga over Dick physically, on the other: Although she had been sent to the best acting-schools and terrific pull had been exerted behind the scenes in her behalf by her family and friends, still, she never quite made it; she just didn't have it as an actress. So, by marrying Dick, she could enjoy success on the stage vicariously through him. Then too, as a fabulous matinee-idol for the past twenty- years running, she knew she would be the envy of many other women, also.
For his own part, Dick decided to throw in the towel and call it quits as a bachelor with Rita Munson for several quite pertinent reasons: For one thing, at past the forty mark, he was definitely over the hump as a matinee-idol and on the downgrade. All that he could look forward to within the next couple of years, was to be relegated to character-parts, such as his own now late parents had been accustomed to having in the latter stages of their life and career, and that was surely a dismal prospect, indeed. So, by marrying a girl such as Rita Munson, would afford him economic-security for the rest of his days.
Then too, she would permit him to retire and put up the money to open that acting-school he had always dreamed of having to tutor pretty young ladies, where he could indulge himself in spanking their saucy young asses to his heart's content.
Actually, more than anything else, that was the main reason Dick had never married up till then-that spanking-fixation of his: He felt that it was unfair to marry the average, normal girl and raise children by her, because undoubtedly, besides having the temptation to spank her behind, he would also look for the excuse to spank his own children, which would undoubtedly harbor acutely painful guilt-feelings and fire pangs of remorse.
And besides, Dick, in the true Kingsley tradition, had always been a Bohemian-Libertine at heart, anyway-a real free-spirit who didn't relish the thought of settling down, no how!
So he kept on going his merry way. Down through the years, as a matinee-idol, he had many an affair with many a celebrated actress and high-society girl. But paradoxically, he had never gotten the opportunity to spank any of them on a regular basis: After all, how would it look if it ever got out to the public? Him, a celebrated ladies' man and matinee-idol, who had been built up as being so deeply reverent of the fair-sex, that he wanted to get down on his knees and suck all their pussies, every bit as eagerly as the average child sucks on a lollypop.
So aside from an occasional provocation where he could be logically sore, in the main, he had to confine his spanking-fixation to fantasies, visualizing what he would like to do and jerk-off over it, which always made him feel stupid, ashamed and even loco in the koko-a man of his age, in his position in life-having to still beat the meat and play with his dummy: What a mock travesty. What an utter farce.
Strictly speaking, Dick did have one definite outlet for his spanking-fixation from time to time. This was provided for him by a Madam Lola, who ran a select call-girl operation. Occasionally, she got a girl who was a Masochistic-bent. So she would call up Dick and other men who dug this groove, and let them indulge themselves for a real fancy fee.
Even here, with Madam Lola, Dick was slightly apprehensive, lest one of the girls took it into her head to blackmail him. But this never came to pass, as there was an unwritten code that they had to keep their mouths shut or get the works from the underworld who usually stood in back of such a given operation: This was precisely why, incidentally, that, there were so many big-shot actors, politicians and celebrities on the list of the call-girl operation which the late Mickey Jelke headed some fifteen, twenty- years back, and where one girl did turn police-informer-the actual madam of Jelke's whole operation.
However, Jelke had operated on his own, without the backing of the mob, whom, it was speculated, had turned him in because he was crossing into their own territory.
But, when Dick, from time to time, saw other famous men up at Madam Lola's who also had some kind of Sadistic-fixation, it served to put his mind more at ease. In any case, his visits to Madam Lola's had never back-fired on him.
As for his marriage to Rita Munson, truth to tell, he was quite satisfied with it, on the whole: Besides offering him the financial-security which he needed for the rest of his days, she was a tall, attractive woman of 38, on the Grace Kelly and Dina Merrill basic type. Physically, in the abstract, she appealed to him well enough. The only thing was, she was overbearing and domineering. This also went for the boudoir, where Dick had to do her bidding.
Yes, to Rita, he was just another toy in her life which her wealthy and adoring father had purchased for her to play with as she saw fit-just another proverbial puppy-dog on her leash!
And Dick deeply resented it. Rita would have steamed him much more if he could whack her sassy, impudent ass and make it all red, so that she would yell her cool, collected head off, then to culminate his urges by taking her in real Caveman-style, as was his preferential idiom. As a matter-of-fact, these were precisely his fantasies when he did have sex with her, really using her for the purpose of jerking himself off more than anything else.
If she would have known what was really on Dick's mind When they fucked together, she would have surely had a shit-hemorrhage, he was certain.
However, Dick was philosophically resigned to his lot. After all, she was paying the bills, and he was truly living in the lap of luxury in this, the twilight-time of his life.
Last but not least, marriage to a girl like Rita did have its compensations, mainly: that dramatic-school of his which he headed, to instruct pretty young girls, via the spanking-method, the embryo for which he had devised with lovely, sultry Adele Manning all those 25 years ago. Only now, for the very first time in his whole life, he could fully indulge himself in his burning erotic-fixation, without having fear of any dire repercussions as a result.
Actually, when he made the one stipulated requirement of his school to parents, (usually the mother) of a given girl who was about to be enrolled, surprisingly enough, there was hardly ever an objection: Truth to tell, the frustrated parents probably were glad that someone was willing to do the job on their lovely but incorrigible spoiled brats for daughters that they, themselves, wanted to do, but didn't dare-just didn't have sufficient nerve.
As for the said daughters, since they were told that other girls were willing to put up with the spanking-method, on the basis of the influence of mass-contagion, why should they object? After all, it was a real feather in their cap and a status-symbol amongst all their girl-friends to be able to attend a dramatic-school run by such a celebrated, esteemed actor as Richard Kingsley was: Then too, they were all past puberty, still in their teens, and at the most passionate time of their lives. So. unconsciously, they welcomed being spanked by Masochistically-exciting, especially if it would ever, by chance, be carried out by Richard Kingsley himself: And as they would all ultimately learn, any and all spankings they caught-which were many-was almost invariably carried out by this suave, debonair director of the school-that very same Richard Kingsley!...
"Very well, Miss Manners, bring the girls in," commanded Dick matter-of-factly.
"Yes, Mr. Kingsley, Sir," the female called Miss Manners replied: Miss Manners was a tall, rambunctious Nordic female, of Amazon proportions, and dressed in an ominous all black-leather outfit.
The three girls she led into the "Group-Spanking Room" were dressed somewhat differently, all actually decked out in the very same "spanking-uniform," consisting of a pair of bright red "Hot Pants" with cross-ribbed suspenders, a black, meshed, webbed see-through blouse, and black boots that tautly fit the legs and came just up to around the middle of a given girl's calves.
The room they were brought into was comparable to a small-sized army-barracks, being square-shaped. It was sparsely furnished, the main thing in the room being a long walnut-stained wooden stock, which was comprised of two equal sections with halves of form-holes on each of them.
Miss Manners motioned for the girls to assume their proper position in front of a given pair of half-moons, and place their wrists on the bottom halves.
The first girl was a rather short but shapely honey-blonde by the name of Shelia, on the Joey Heatherton type. The second and middle one was a tall, curvy brunette, by the name of Tanya, on the Raquel Welch type. And the third was a tall, slender redhead by the name of Pamela, on the Diana Rigg type.
When all three girls were in their proper, respective places, Miss Manners brought the entire top half of the stock' down, locking it securely into place and thereby forming neat, improvised handcuffs, so that none of the girls could get out until this top half was raised again.
The honey-blonde called Shelia whimpered forlornly, in dire anticipation and dread of the scorching, blistering pain that was soon to come. For her own part, she dreaded these "Woodsheddin'-sessions" more than anything, and she didn't care who knew it.
Deliberately feigning naivete, Dick walked up behind Shelia, whose saucy ass was wiggling and squirming as she banged her knee-caps into the lower half of the wooden stock, and inquired of her amiably: "What's the matter, Shelia, my dear? What's wrong, hmmm?" Why are you whimpering so?"
"You know very well why I am," Shelia retorted, quite scornfully and indignantly. "Because I'm going to get my poor bum whacked again for no good reason; just because it happens to suit your... fancy to do so."
"Well, I wouldn't say that, Shelia, my dear," Dick endeavored to explain, semi-apologetically. "After all, it's for your own good, these sessions, you know, to 'whip you into shape,' and thereby, in so doing, make a real fine actress out of you."
"A likely story," Shelia sneered tremulously. "A lot of shit, if you ask me."
"You doubt me, my dear. You doubt my word and call me a liar, hmmm?"
"Yes, I most certainly do-ooo," the girl called Shelia whined.
"Very well, then: Ten more hard cuts on your bare, saucy rump for your insolence. That should teach you the proper respect for your mentor, my dear."
"But you asked me," Shelia whined shrilly, trying to subtly cajole with him for mercy.
"Even so," Dick retorted, "you should learn the proper appreciation for our extensive efforts here. And since you apparently haven't, you need some extra... errr... disciplinary... measures, my dear. But, enough of this talking. Time to get on with the group-session," Dick thereby dismissed any further dialogue with the sorry girl called Shelia.
Dick went over to a far-corner of the room where the rack of spanking-implements was located. For the occasion, he fetched a short, squat paddle. It was of the dimensions of a ping-pong racket, but almost three-quarters of an inch thick and made out of extra hard wood. Such a paddle could really whack up a storm with the bare, soft pliable rumps of saucy young females, Dick knew.
Before commencing the paddling on the respective seats of their Hot Pants, Dick stood behind them for a moment, raptly gazing at the three girls and how they looked from the rear. Actually, he enjoyed spanking each of them, but for entirely different reasons: The girl called Shelia had a low-slung, rather fat, round ass. But she was sassy, and was made to yelp and squeal very easily, which pleased Dick no end.
The middle girl-the brunette called Tanya-was the most alluring and sexually-appealing of the trio, being of the Raquel Welch type, with an especially wicked shape, highlighted by a tucked-in waist-line over a spreading, curvy but firm, high-slung behind. Yes, sexually, per se, Tanya's type appealed to Dick the most-the very, very MOST.
Finally, there was Pamela, the British girl who was a fiery redhead, on the Diana Rigg type. Pamela was built very slender-almost straight up and down. So while she also had a high-slung ass, as did lovely, luscious Tanya, the cheeks weren't nearly as full or alluring. Nevertheless, Dick enjoyed administering cruel spanking-punishment to Pamela because she had a distinct aura of masculinity hovering about her person.
As a matter-of-fact, Dick was sure that Pamela had a Lesbian-relationship with some of the other more feminine members of the school. She hated to give him the satisfaction that he was hurting her and making her suffer. So he really laid the cuts on with her extra hard and severe, joyfully playing a sort of game to see if he could make her really break down.
Dick felt that his cock was as rigid as stone, pressing urgently against the taut-fitting cup of the jock-strap he wore, to spare him the humiliation and embarrassment of manifesting his inner feeling to any of the girls.
He knew that if he kept on meditating, especially gazing at the trio of lovely girls in that most enticing "Hot Pants" outfit of theirs, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back and would pop his nuts. Then it wouldn't be any good. He didn't want to pop off and explode until later, when it would be really worthwhile.
He gripped the handle of the paddle tightly, drawing a bead on Shelia's low-slung, soft, fat rump. He snapped his wrist twice-one for each cheeks of Shelia. The meat-end of the paddle made a most satisfying swat-sound as it landed, and Shelia screeched for all she was worth as it took its grim toll, the cheeks bouncing and quivering erratically.
Dick kept on working across according to plan, next giving statuesque Tanya her two swats, which sounded much more solid as they landed.
Finally, with Pamela, who was the last in line, he delivered two terrific back-handed smashes, then gave her still two more as he worked his way back up the line again, so that she naturally caught four terrific whacks in rapid succession. Pamela bit her lower lip and moaned, nervously flexing her kneecaps against the lower half of the stock, to try and saturate and assimilate some of the excruciating and seeping tingle: However, to compensate her, Pamela was given a relatively long respite until Dick came back to her again.
It kept on going this way, until each and every girl caught ten cracks on each side of the seat of her Hot Pants, making twenty- cracks in all.
By this time, all of the girls were made to cry in her own unique way: Shelia was yelping tremulously and hysterically-as if she would never survive the terrible ordeal. Tanya was crying softly and threshing her kneecaps, while Pamela was doing almost the same, except that her pangs of anguish were deeper and more fully felt. A brief interim then ensued-a respite from the dreaded paddle for the whole trio-while the Nordic Amazon, who was Lenore Manners, went about peeling them down and placing them in a state of semi-dishevelment: First, Dick gave the pre-arranged, necessary signal, commanding her sibilantly: "Properly prepare them, Miss Manners-prepare them for their being 'whipped into shape' on the bare skin. Strip them down!"
"Yes, Mr. Kingsley, Sir," the Nordic Amazon agreed softly and respectfully. "Yes, Mighty Master. Your will shall be done!"
Truth to tell, Dick would have enjoyed doing this task himself, as it was so very easy. All that Miss Manners had to do, was to unbutton the cross-ribbed suspenders at the tops, thereby making the whole Hot Pants outfit come loose, then to slide them down, and the panty-briefs directly in their wake, until all the apparel was draped down below the thighs: The reason Dick didn't deign to do it himself-as pleasurable as it was-was for fear lest he give himself away. Somehow, having another female present in the room, attending to them, seemed a bit more cold and impersonal-in the light of their punishment, rather than for his own personal pleasure.
Besides which, he was afforded an unimpeded view of his initial handiwork with the paddle: He found, that ostensibly, Shelia and Pamela had caught the worst of it, judging by the livid tinge of redness on both cheeks of their behind: whereas Tanya, who appealed to him the most strongly and so closely resembled Raquel Welch, seemed to have gotten off the relatively lightest: For Shelia, this was due to her being a blonde, and having a more sensitive skin. Whereas, with Pamela, she had been whacked harder and more severely, to try and knock the intense masculine-streak out of her.
So Dick made a mental-note, to make sure that he gave lovely, sultry Tanya a leading-role in some play or other, so that he would have the plausible excuse to have a private go at her alone, such as he had already done with ravishing, fiery-haired Jeanie Barton that time, especially since Tanya was eighteen and legally of age to be properly fucked, in addition to being spanked.
When Dick resumed the paddling, the other two girls of the trio had a bit longer respite, as he focused all of his attention to Shelia, the honey-blonde who looked so much like Joey Heatherton, and had a low-slung ass: "Now to give you your desserts for your insolence before, you sassy, impudent little child you!"
Shelia might have replied if she could. However, she was too wrapped up in her fit of hysteria to do so, and if she heard Dick, it only served to add to and accentuate her carrying-on.
Dick gave her the ten designated extra smacks in quick, medium-hard spanking-style. And while Shelia's type of ass didn't really appeal to him, being so low-slung as it was soft and a bit fat even if rounded-still, he found when it was smacked rapidly, that the cheeks would bounce around most delightfully and emphatically: In addition to which, there was the general differentiation of smacking a girl on her bare ass as opposed to the seat of Hot Pants: There was more of a satisfying, solid "smack" to it, rather than the previous "swat"-sound.
After he got done giving Shelia the ten extra smacks, she carried on as if she was being murdered-sawed and hacked to pieces alive. So Dick decided to give her a rest to cool off, and concentrate on the other two girls: The aspect of the bare-ass paddling was to be done in two distinct phases: For the first phase, the other two girls were also permitted to let their scorching-hot asses cool off, while he concentrated on the still virginal-white area below it, where the tender arced-creases and slabs for the backs of the thighs were located. With a paddle, he could encompass both aspects of the flesh at once!
Dick did so, and both Tanya and Pamela were made to screech for all they were worth, bouncing up and down like virtual Mexican jumping-beans.
This time, Shelia was last, so she had to catch four such scorchers simultaneously-the culmination of the volley and the start of a new one. And as Dick felt that satisfying jolt go up his wrist, in conjunction with the feel and sound of a piece of thick, raw steak being tenderized, as the meat-end of the paddle unerringly found its marks, Shelia yelled so loud and jumped so high, that it seemed to him as if, indeed, her very head would go crashing through the ceiling!
Dick gave all three girls six such resounding blasts, and by the time he delivered them all, the lower portion of their backsides were every bit as red and burning them as their already thoroughly scourged but relatively much tougher behinds.
For a grand climax, Dick gave them all ten cracks on their bare asses, working over and across as had been the procedure he initially had devised-doing so five times in all: He spanked rapidly and savagely, making the curvy spheres of flesh bounce around continuously-like large red, rubber medicine-balls being tossed around a public-beach.
By the time he got done with them and Lenore Manners released them from being imprisoned in the stock, they had all broken-down and were crying freely, even the rough and tough English girl who was Pamela: As a matter-of-fact, both Pamela and Tanya were exhibiting the exact same antics-crying freely, as they pressed both of their hands behind their backs and gingerly rubbed away-to try and eradicate even a small iota of the blistering, burning tingle that had seeped in there so indelibly. Finally, still sobbing, they fell into each other's arms, rubbing the other one's bottom simultaneously, providing each other with at least mental-solace, since "misery always likes company" as it does.
As for Shelia, she was so hysterical, that she threw herself down on the floor, tossing and turning and rolling, over and over again, in utter desperation to fan the fierce flames that were burning her up alive. She was ultimately picked up and attended to by Lucille Manners, the Nordic Amazon, who showed seeming empathy and sympathy for her plight, then took her away to her own private room, where she rubbed the blazing-hot flesh in with some cool salve-ointment on her long, experienced fingers adroitly.
Moments later, arm in arm, Tanya left with Pamela, both of them painfully limping out of there together.
Finally, the room was empty and Dick was left all alone: He didn't waste a single second. He raced to the private bathroom that was located in the far-corner of the room. Once inside, he locked the door, not to take any unnecessary chances.
Quickly, he lowered his pants, dropped his drawers and took down the jock-strap as well. Both of his hands reached out for his throbbing cock, which had a rip-roaring hard-on, a priori.
As a matter-of-fact, he couldn't remember when he had been so steamed in his whole life.
He gave it a few quick, hard jerks and it was all over.
He came, gushing like mad, in virtual torrents. And, he was so excited, he didn't care where the frenetic prick shot: The seminal-cream hit the walls, the floor, the medicine-cabinet, all over the toilet bowl and seat, and even up onto the very ceiling, itself.
Still, he kept on coming and coming and coming, seemingly never to stop.
Then when he finally petered out, feeling all done-in, sapped and weak-he had to face the unpleasant task of cleaning the bathroom up: To be sure, he could have left it for Miss Manners to attend to. However, he didn't want her to think he was so crude and uncouth, especially with that last name of hers, which was so highly symbolic-especially in this... connection!...
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Helloo, darling," greeted Dick's wife, Rita. "Hi!" he chirped back at her, feigning exuberance and enthusiasm.
"Well, did you stop off at that exclusive fruit and vegetable store and get a bag of fancy peaches?"
"Uh-huh," he assented. "I sure did.
"And are they real nice, choice, big and juicy ones?"
"They sure are. Here, see for yourself," he exclaimed, proffering the small folded brown bag to her.
She eagerly took it from him and opened it with a crackling, rustling sound. As soon as she did so, her sea-blue eyes gleamed lustrously and she shook her head up and down in an affirmative-gesture: "Yes, they're real nice, all right-a truly choice selection. So let me go into the kitchen and cut them up in a bowl. You can wait for me upstairs, in the bedroom. And when I come there, my Richard angel will have himself a nice, heaping dish of peaches an' cream."
"I can hardly wait!"
"Really, you don't sound too enthusiastic, darling; rather, sarcastic, if anything."
"No-ooo, I'm overjoyed, believe me, sweets. 'Cause you know I always go for a nice dish of peaches an' cream. My mouth is watering already. See?" he opened it wide for emphasis and made it seem to foam and drool.
Apparently satisfied, Rita spun around on her heels and went into the kitchen with the bag of peaches...
Dick went up to the bedroom and waited for her. Some five minutes later, she arrived, with the peaches all neatly sliced up in a bowl. She placed it on the corner of a dresser, then sat herself down on a huge, over-sized ottoman, which also served as an improvised pedestal at such times and for such occasions as now.
Rita really was a very good-looking, fetching hunk of woman. She was that cool blonde, sophisticated type, reminiscent of a somewhat earlier Grace Kelly and a later-day Catherine Denevieve, and potentially, was quite capable of getting Dick really steamed, especially in the transparent, wispy pale blue nightie she was presently wearing, which accentuated the shade and sparkle of her eyes, and the wonderful contours and curves of her proud, exquisite body: No, it wasn't her looks that were bad or hard to take. Rather, it was that air of hers-that snooty, high-falutin' condescending aura which she exuded-clearly indicating, that she was his definite superior, and he was only her toy-dog and/or plaything-which she could discard whenever she wanted to, when she tired of him and he failed to please her any longer.
Oh, if only he was ten years younger and still in his prime as a matinee-idol, he would throw all caution to the winds, haul off and lambaste her behind so ferociously, he would set a virtual forest-fire to it.
Oh, joy. Oh, Heaven!
However, he was no longer a matinee-idol, but in semi-retirement, except for that cherished school of his for teaching young girls to be actresses, via his spanking-method.
For a fraction of a moment, he dwelled upon the happy, enjoyable events of the day, particularly that triple-spanking, but focusing on the way that girl, Tanya, looked, who had the cute tendency to throw up the other cheek when a given one was too tender and sensitive to the paddle. Then, when that other cheek was burning and tingling worse than the inverted, protected one, she would alternate them, moaning softly and ecstatically as she did so.
What joy. What Heaven, Dick reflected raptly, deriving a rejuvenated source of inspiration for the future: He had to get that girl all alone, such as he previously did with Jeanie Baron and others. He just had to. Then he would have a real ball!
However, if he wanted to keep that cherished school and keep on having his way with pretty young morsels of flesh, he had to snap out of it, focus all of his attention on Rita, and please her now.
"Well, darling? I'm waiting," Rita chided him lightly-almost as if reading his very thoughts in that characteristic way that women have-which ,was almost a witch-like quality and probably caused many of her sisters, from an earlier time, to be burned at the stake for having such a magical faculty, and really was nothing more than "woman's intuition," as was clearly understood in this, the later, Scientific Age.
"Yes, to be sure, my love," Dick acquiesced.
He then went to work on her-slowly, gracefully and easily-like a truly expert masseur who was endowed with the proper, even magical touch: He did everything that Rita liked and which sent her. He fondled and caressed her breasts, her spine and her thighs. He kissed and soul-kissed her ruby-red lips, dispersed with hushes, even reverent words of utter adoration.
Gradually, Dick's sustained efforts became rewarded as Rita floated into a dreamy World of ecstatic-bliss, manifested by the tell-tale glow of her long, supple body, with its silken, velvety texture, and the hardness and fullness of her medium-sized but firm shapely bosom.
Dick tenaciously bore down, further accentuating his advances, until the seeping spray of pre-secretion began to form around his fingers in a sticky, congealed puddle: Once this state was achieved, Dick pushed the nightie up and rolled it above her high, proud tits, so that he wouldn't be impeded from perpetrating his ultimate mission.
Rita cooperated by placing both hands on the outer-labia lips of her pale yellow-golden pussy and prying the cuntal-slit as far apart as she only could.
Dick dutifully fetched some slices of the cut-up peaches from the bowl and shoved them in the bright, glistening red gash. He kept on doing so, until the snatch was full to the brim. Then quickly doing brief condensations of all he had done to her before, to make doubly certain of obtaining the definite edge of tumescence, Dick placed his face down between her quivering, palpitating thighs and went to work: He chewed and gnawed away at the slices of peaches, simultaneously suctioning and drawing with his lips, and using his tongue like a red-hot, most activated lance-darting in and out-again and again and again.
Soon, Rita was made to audibly and emotionally moan: "Oh, oh, oh-hhh," she shuddered and convulsed. "I love you, Richard pet. Love you, love you, love you-uuu!"
Dick kept right on, eating away and working his lips and tongue, screwing his way ever further into the very jaws of the snatch.
It was when he was all the way in there-chewing, licking and lapping all at once-that it happened: Yelping shrilly and tremulously, all of Rita's usually cool being became racked with uncontrollable spasms and convulsions, with the snapping and twitching of her whole pussy directly in its wake, and gobs of the maiden-juice slowly trickled out of her-onto Dick's open, parted lips-and down the very palate of his throat: His taste-buds felt the passion-juice blend and intermingle with some of the already eaten slices of cut-up raw peaches, and indeed, taken in totality, it did taste like a dish of "peaches an' cream," all right, just as Rita had promised it would-only peaches with sour, instead of sweet cream.
Truth to tell, peaches an' sour cream wasn't Dick's ultra-favorite, select dish to eat; he could take it or leave it. He would have much preferred peaches with the sweet cream.
Then he thought about lovely, sultry Tanya again and all the things he would do to her when he got her alone, in his nefarious clutches: This served as the necessary warning-signal that he needed to keep him going, so that he kept right on gnawing away, licking and lapping it all up, with utter relish, until the entire dish of peaches an' sour cream was gone-all gone.
Upon the culmination of the Frenching-act, Rita cooed and sighed like a happy dove, lying back, utterly tranquil and serene, a light, warm glow of lassitude stealing to her cheeks gently, giving them a simulated, healthy color which this basically indoors, night-creature for a woman hardly ever had.
As for Dick, he felt all on edge and enraged-that he had to lower himself and perpetrate such a humiliating-act for financial security.
Still all pent-up, he would have liked nothing better right then but to turn the peaceful entity of Rita up and over and beat her entire backside like a tom-tom-whale the living shit out of her.
However, Dick didn't do that. He contained himself and kept his aggressive-emotions entirely in check: Because, if nothing else he had learned down through the years, it was one pertinent lesson which came with age, wisdom and experience. And that lesson was: He was one man "who really knew what side his bread was buttered on!!!!"
