Millie didn't have anything against sex-as long as it was proper. But her husband had a greatly different opinion about what fell into that category. She knew that if she ever gave into her wild longings they would run away with her, sensing what Albert Ellis reported in Sex Without Guilt, that "Women are not necessarily intrinsically different from males in their sex drives and needs; and, when they are, they are frequently more rather than less highly sexed than are men And then Millie's friends took the decision out of her hands-and Millie discovered that it didn't even take a man to turn her on.
CHAPTER ONE
Jakestown, Colorado, lay in the lower end of Majestic Valley at an elevation of nine thousand feet. The slopes of the mountain loomed above it on all sides, close on the east and west so that the sun was two hours later rising on the town than it was anywhere else and two hours earlier setting. The mountains were close on the north, also, where the river came out of Black Gorge, but at the south end of the valley they lay a mile and a half distant. The paved highway that slipped out of the gorge and ran through the center of town and down the valley to plunge from sight in the lower gorge was Jakestown's Main Street.
Between Main Street and the river bank, Silver Street's dust-filled ruts of red earth made a grim mockery of its name. But Silver Street was redeemed to some extent by the neat little houses with white picket fences and brave rose bushes that lined it. East of Main was Diamond Avenue, crowded with shacks that housed the miners and the road crew, and then Bonanza Avenue. Bonanza skirted the foot of the east slope and the homes it served were substantial two-storied mansions built in the first decade of the century. They sat well apart and dug their feet in to bedrock, their backs hunched against the pressure of runoff from summer rains and winter snow slides.
Millie Frosh lived in Cowle House by right of heritage, and from the dormer window in the vaulted-ceilinged living room she could look down the length of Broadway two blocks to the pavement of Main Street and another two blocks to the bank of deep-channeled Wild River. She'd brought Cowle House to her marriage with Tom Frosh ... Cowle House and a considerable interest in the valley's mining properties and an intense case of worship.
She paused frequently in her work to glance out the dormer, as she did every morning because the town was such an integral part of her. This morning, the vacuuming had come first, as usual, after the breakfast dishes were out of the way and the kitchen was scrubbed. Vacuuming ... the carpet and its rich oriental pattern of reds and golds and blacks ... the stones of the great fireplace, gleaming white quartz with this streaks of wire gold ... window ledges that were knee-high and a foot and a half deep for sitting and staring at the valley (and for hiding the storage space within) ... and the heavy blinds for lowering to block the rays of the afternoon sun. Dusting always followed vacuuming, and Millie had already finished the dry-rag part; she had lovingly wiped off the thin, red layer from each book and vase and figurine and was now doing the shelves and tables, themselves, with the oil-rag in her hand feeling moist and smelling strongly of lemon. And the long, narrow, hip-high table that stood before the dormer and the window seats made it next to impossible to work without her eyes straying toward the scene outside.
Jakestown was like it had been since the days when its first flush of wild silver fever wore off and the women had arrived-and yet there were changes that could never be reversed. The ankle-deep dust in Jakestown's streets would never change; turning to mud in the rain and freezing to ridged, red knives in the winter and disintegrating once more to powder under the summer sun. The buildings would continue to weather, like the people, siding fading in the wind and rain and snow and their supports threatening to abandon them. But every spring the inhabitants scraped off paint flakes and re-coated the streaked surfaces and shored up the underpinnings.
There'd be no new stores or restaurants, Millie knew, and probably no new houses, but unless the deeper veins of minerals pinched off there'd always be a family for every house in town and a steady trickle of business along Main Street and up the first block of Broadway.
But the people changed, Millie reflected. They watched television, bringing it into the valley on cables that ran down the slopes from the community antenna set atop the east ridge. They read paperbacks and listened to rock and knew the outside world. They weren't the exhausted moles they'd once been, and their dreams shaped themselves on frameworks that were part of the real world instead of on wistful nostalgia.
In the homes along Bonanza there were two social contingents now, and that was a change. There was only one when Millie was a girl-all part of that first handful of pioneer entrepreneurs whose roots struck deep into the mines-who owned the ground and the equipment and the miners-and who banked the yield from the sale of metals after the ore was processed at the lower end of the valley. But lately the old mansions were housing those who had come to the valley with investment incomes having no relation to the mountain riches but who wanted to get away from the metropolitan pace.
Tom Frosh had to be counted almost an old-timer. He'd brought in outside money all right; but he'd brought engineering and management know-how, too, and if he'd bought his way into the Silver Promise, he'd earned his right to direct it. There was a quality about Tom that fit the spirit of the old days and old ways so that his marriage to Millie (and the controlling interest in the Golden Lady that brought him) had been the last thing necessary to rid of his "outsider" label.
Millie smiled at how much her husband did fit into the spirit of the old days. He seemed to have a past tinged with livelier amusements than Jakestown or she were prepared to offer-Jakestown during social hours or she in bed-but showed no impatience either with the town or with her. Without his ever having said so or her ever having asked, Tom conveyed the impression that he was satisfied to regard that part of life the way her father and her grandfather had-keeping a lady in the house and whatever stronger form of excitement he needed somewhere outside the valley.
Millie resented Tom's cheating as much as her mother and her grandmother resented their husbands' infidelity in their time, but Tom was as discreet about it as earlier men in the family had been and Millie wasn't going to turn over the rock any more than the other Cowles women had. Millie had detected a streak of unnatural tastes in Tom's sex play during their honeymoon and she'd taken immediate, firm measures to smother them. If he were seeking that kind of stimulation on his occasional "business" trips away from the valley, at least he wasn't forcing her into uncivilized, humiliating acts when he was home.
Millie wrenched her thoughts away from that disquieting area; it was too easy to arouse the primitive imagination that everyone had-to slip into fantasies that made her face burn even when she was alone-and if she often gave way to that kind of secret wildness, there'd come a day when she'd forget herself with Tom.
She'd been thinking of the changes in Jakestown. All right. Eric Benson and Freeda, two doors south on Bonanza, and Will Morris and Bertha, next door south of them, were old stock. So were Howard Caldwell and Edith in the home next to Cowle House on the north. But Wayne Decker and his wife, Tracy, lived between Cowle House and the Bensons; and Paul Chase and Frances lived in the old Larkins place north of the Caldwells. Both couples were transplants and showed no desire to bury their fortunes in the mines. Still, they were in the same age bracket as the natives-the Deckers pushing thirty and the Chases just past-and they had somewhat the same tastes. Above all, they loved the mountains and the slow pace of the valley; it probably didn't matter if they acted a little too intimate with each other sometimes, so long as they wore well and respected local custom in public.
Millie finished dusting and carefully vacuumed the dust cloth. There weren't many housewives who did that, she thought, but she'd learned the trick from her mother and knew what it added to the life of the cloth. She put away her equipment and returned to the window for the short rest that she always took at this point in her housework. Boils of dust were moving south along Bonanza and Millie could see similar billows crossing Broadway where it intersected Diamond and Main and Silver. By tomorrow morning the fine, red powder would again have coated every surface in the house and she could again go about her ritual.
A half block down Broadway a crowd of miners' kids raced through the red dirt kicking a crumpled can in their version of street soccer. A hundred yards to the" right, along Bonanza, a pack of dogs swarmed around a dodging bitch. Even as Millie glanced their way a rangy, gray brute that looked like a cross between a shepherd and a wolf, mounted the bitch. As if maddened by the sight of his success, the other males broke into a frenzied orgy, scrambling to mount each other and twisting and snapping to protect their own rears.
Millie laughed. There was something about the scene that made her think of the antics of kids who imagined they were safely out of sight of the grownups. But her laughter trailed off uncomfortably as the single-minded obsession of the animals-and the savage concentration with which the bitch now planted her hind feet and thrust herself up onto the gray's stabbing redness-drove off the image of playful children and aroused the strange apprehension that had lately begun to trouble her. She caught her lower lips between her teeth and knelt on the window ledge.
It was that Decker woman, she told herself, who'd first brought on that apprehension. Tracy Decker and her leopard-like, sleepy look and a sudden awareness among the men. Millie'd been sure she was imagining things at first; she'd put it down to the drinks-or maybe the conversation-and shrugged it off. But she'd felt it more and more often when she was around Tracy and the other outsiders. And she'd felt it strongly enough to try analyzing it.
At first it was just Tracy. There was something about her that was such raw sex that it lifted Millie's nerve-ends and put her on edge. That kind of woman could twist the men around her out of their quiet habits and turn them into fools. But Tracy hadn't, oddly enough. If that kind of worry had bred Millie's apprehension, it wasn't a factor any longer. The thing that had replaced the natural and easily controllable fear of competition was a predatory quality in the way Tracy acted toward Millie, herself. Not like Miss Furman had warned at boarding school-where girls could get a thing about other girls-but something more like a madam in Denver might reveal as she studied some innocent young lady passing in the street. Millie had more than once surprised Tracy when the Decker woman was studying her speculatively and glancing with a thoughtful expression from her to one or another of the men.
All in all, it was a silly obsession she'd invented in her own mind, Millie told herself. After all, she knew what a figure she had and how something about her carriage and movements and the way she used her eyes and mouth made people think of sex. Bertha Morris could be brutally untactful at times, and she'd once expressed what Millie suspected ran in the other women's minds.
"I tell ya, Millie," Bertha had said with the frankness born of a half dozen drinks. "Times like tonight I get my kicks outta imaginin' my Will-or maybe one o' these other guys-ridin' your saddle! You wasn't such a lady you'da been laid by every guy on Bonanza, not to mention most o' the miners!"
Tracy wasn't mountain-reared like Bertha; she was sophisticated and naturally a lady. But maybe she had something of Bertha's curious imaginative quality-refined to suit her more subtle character-and "got her kicks" by starring Millie in her own fantasies. The trouble was Tracy's behavior seemed to be infectious; it'd gotten so Millie was seeing hints of hunger in the glances most of the men now gave her. And that hunger was invariably most obvious when Tracy was around.
It had to be an illusion, Millie insisted to herself. It simply had to be a combination of all sorts of minor factors. Like the way she'd compared herself to Tracy in the first heat of jealousy at the woman's feline attractiveness. She'd readily convinced herself that her own Irish build and coloring-the pale, translucent skin with its tiny freckles and the glossy, black hair tumbling around her shoulders and her proud breasts and tiny waist and generous, tapered hips-were easily as exciting to men as Tracy's tawny coloring and sinuous shape. No doubt she'd oversold her desirability to herself and now imagined that all the men secretly wished they could comer her in a hay loft.
But no amount of rationalizing could dispel Millie's apprehension. She probably would have to get Tom to take her out of the valley before she'd be able to throw it off. She was surely "mountain-bound," and the staleness with Tom in the bedroom and the certainty that their love-making was tasteless gruel to him must have depressed her spirits further than she'd realized. Right now the raw lust in the dog pack seemed to be a distillate of the aura she attributed to Tracy. And from the effect the sight was having on her, she was absorbing the essence of that disturbing influence.
She leaned toward the window, her groin pressed against the top of the magazine stand that stood on the window seat, and watched the gray complete his pumping. Both animals appeared satisfied and were trying to disengage, but that perverse quirk of canine anatomy that she'd observed before was at work; they were stuck. Somehow, the grey had managed to dismount, and he and the bitch stood tail-to-tail, their forepaws on the ground and their interlocked condition forcing their hindquarters into the air so that their hind feet pedalled uselessly. They spun in awkward circles and the other males crowded about in agitated fascination. She imagined she could hear the howls and barks through the closed windows.
That was what she secretly fancied Tracy saw in her, she reflected. And she could see it, herself. She could see herself in the middle of a pack of panting men, hung up on one of them and knowing that another would be on top of her the moment she freed herself, with Tracy somewhere in the background keeping score and assigning turns.
God, what kind of fantasy is that! thought Millie. She felt a wave of excitement and thrust herself onto the corner of the stand, then shrank from it and left the window to shut off her view of the milling dogs. What kind of perverted creature was she turning into to let herself stare that way and grind her crotch on a piece of furniture! That was why people had inhibitions and childhood commandments, to give them strength to resist the temptation of erotic deviation!
Sure there were exciting things people could do besides natural love-making. A girl couldn't go through boarding school without hearing most of them. And a lot of them were likely to produce stronger reactions-and maybe considerably more intense sensations-than the respectable, traditional way of mating. She'd be lying to herself if she denied that she had caught herself in unguarded moments wishing she could try some of them. But she was safe; she'd made her resolutions while there was still time and self-control to keep them. No one was going to catch her backsliding!
Millie pushed at the tightness in her belly and stole another glance at the dogs. They were emissaries of the Devil, sent to try her. She'd put them out of her mind and get her shopping done. With everyone coming for bridge tonight she hadn't time for fantasies anyhow.
Outside, it was warm. The sunlight was a caress and the wind was mild. Cottonwoods and aspens bent before the gusts and rattled their leaves loudly together. Millie heard the shouts of the youngsters ahead and the clank of the can, and, as she passed the Murphy shack on the corner of Diamond and Broadway, she heard the youngest Murphy squalling from its playpen. A truck somewhere south of town was laboring up the grade with its engine grinding, and the roar of the ore processors came faintly against the wind.
Edith Caldwell was in Sam's Grocery when Millie got there.
"Hi, Millie. Everything ready for tonight?" she asked.
"All but the last minute shopping. Is Howard still on his diet or can he eat something rich for dessert?"
Edith made a face and laughed. "He's lost five pounds, so he thinks he can have anything on special occasions ... like if it's anyone's birthday, or a party, or a sunny day, or you name it." She shrugged. "What the hell? I'm not scared of his squashing me anymore, now that I do the riding, so have something real special; that'll put him in the mood."
Millie squirmed. It was hard to keep from showing the distress Edith's graphic comment was causing her. She wouldn't hurt Edith for the world, but it must be bad enough to have to make love in such a way without coming right out in the open with it like that. And to imply that she'd welcome his having his appetite aroused...! But Edith had changed the subject without drawing breath.
"... and pulled the rug out from under us! Howard said he thought Tom might have to go down there to put a stop to it."
"What?" Millie sensed from the tone of Edith's voice that there was something besides routine chatter here. "I'm sorry, dear. I got distracted."
"The government. That silly injunction in Denver."
"About radiation levels in the ore? But that was supposed to be cleared up last week!"
"Not that!" Edith sounded impatient. "The stockholder thing. Howard called me on the telephone. The Waverlies dumped their interest and everyone's trying to unload. Majestic Valley money's just not going to be enough to keep the bottom in if the government shuts down operations for an investigation. And Howard says they will if management can't guarantee stock security for the little people."
"But they can't! All the assets are tied up in the merger!"
"Howard says that's the problem. The Waverlies couldn't stop the merger by vote, so they think they can get a receivership this way."
"That terrible!" Millie was furious and an edge of panic was probing at her. A move like that could wipe out the valley money and ruin everything they stood for. The worst of it was that the little people, the miners here and the farmers and clerks throughout the state who'd bought into the stock sharing plan when Tom and the others had come out with it-would be the worst hurt.
Edith looked puzzled. "Tom hasn't called you? Well, he was probably too busy trying to hold things together. Anyhow, Howard says Tom'll likely leave for Denver today." She brightened. "But don't call off the bridge on account of that! We'll all come to cheer you up."
Millie smiled tautly. "If Tom's going to Denver I am, too. I need a few days of new scenery. I'll call him as soon as I get home. If he'll take me, I'll let everyone know the party's off." She turned toward the cold storage chest and grinned at Edith, her tightness fading. "Just in case, I'll have the richest dessert I can buy!"
"Thanks. Look, honey. Things might not be as bad as they sound. Howard said there was something in the wind about Wayne Decker and Paul Chase putting money into the corporation. He thinks they've been talking to Tom about it on the q.t. ever since Tracy's brother came."
"Roberto? What's he got to do with it? He's just a guest, I thought."
Edith nodded. "He is. But Howard thinks he got interested in what was going on at the Silver Promise and the Golden Lady and figures the merger with Shacklett Enterprises could do spectacular things to the stock. I guess he's gotten Wayne and Paul excited too."
God, what a magpie! thought Millie. If Tom hadn't wanted the word out-and he certainly hadn't mentioned it at home-then Howard had no business telling Edith!
Millie finished her shopping and paid Sam, impatient to get away from Edith before saying something she'd regret. And she hurried back up Broadway and dashed up the steep steps to the house, winding herself so that she had to catch her breath before she could call Tom.
Tom groaned when she told him what Edith had said. "Damn it, it'll be all the way up and down the street! And more than likely down in the shacks, too. That big-mouthed bitch!"
"She's goodhearted, hon. It's just that she doesn't get much excitement. Is it as bad as she said?"
"No. There's no sweat."
"And no trip to Denver?"
"Well-I-I, I'll have to go to Denver all right. Meant to call you in the next few minutes. I'll have to leave it about an hour."
"Oh, honey! I need the trip so badly! I'm getting claustrophobia here in the valley!"
"Whoa! Stick it out for a few days, baby. Let me get this thing worked out first. Then I'll take you on a real vacation."
"Oh, honey! I wouldn't be in the way!"
"Of course not. But I'm not going to be at my best. And with Decker and Chase money riding with me-and Roberto Montejo putting his in-I've got to keep my mind on business."
She swallowed her disappointment. "They're really going in?"
"Damn good thing, too, baby! Nowhere else to get that kind of commitment in time. Whole thing'd go to hell!"
"I'll thank them."
"Yeah. After it's all sewed down."
What came after that was strictly husband and wife stuff, Millie reflected afterward. She'd tried not to let him hear in her voice how deeply she was disappointed, but she knew she'd sounded cool. And it might be a whole week before she could correct the impression.
CHAPTER TWO
Millie toyed with the idea of calling off the bridge party. Now that Tom was off the telephone and she could think through his excuse for leaving her at home, she felt sick and alone. If anyone had ever been built with an inner mechanism for focusing on business to the exclusion of everything else it was Tom: he wouldn't have known whether she was there or not. He had left her behind so he could work off some of those extra-curricular tastes of his, that was that. And there wasn't a thing she could do about it. A poor foundation for a hostess to build a party on.
But with so little entertainment in Jakestown everyone looked forward to these evenings and she couldn't disappoint them. But with Tom gone they wouldn't have the right number of players. Millie mentally scanned the possibilities. There was Tracy's brother; maybe he played bridge.
She dialed the Decker number.
"Tracy? ... Millie Frosh. I wondered if Roberto was a bridge player."
Tracy's voice was vibrant and husky. "Bridge? Sure! And anything else that isn't honest toil." That figured, thought Millie. Must run in the family. Tracy'd said once that her father had never done a productive thing in his life-that he'd started with a substantial fortune and swelled it to obscene dimensions by sheer financial juggling. And Tracy claimed that her own ambition had been to marry rich so she'd never have to keep house or work. So this revelation about Roberto had to fit.
"Bring him then, honey. Tom's going to Denver-emergency thing-and I don't want to ruin the night by being a player short. Besides," she added hastily, "I've been dying to meet Roberto. I mean, we all want to make him feel welcome in the valley."
Tracy laughed gustily. "We'll bring him, darling. Couldn't keep him away; he was going to crash the party if he couldn't manage some ploy to make himself indispensable. He loves the valley and says he's tired of admiring the animal life from a distance."
Millie mumbled her thanks to Tracy and hung up. She felt suddenly cold; her apprehension had washed over her again with sickening force, and the knowledge that it was baseless did nothing to reduce it. She went about her preparations woodenly, trying to find some topic of thought that would engross her deeply enough to free her of the mood. Unfortunately there was too little to do. Her habitual thoroughness and phobia about avoiding last minute panic had guaranteed that this afternoon would be almost free of demands, and with the last few items taken care of she could find nothing that required her attention.
Millie wandered aimlessly through the house hoping for something to distract her, knowing it was useless. But in the dark background of her mood she felt as if she were seeing the rooms through a stranger's eyes. There was relief in the furnishings; every piece had either been in the house during her childhood or was something Tom had brought with him. And his possessions weren't furniture. They had his original drafting board in a comer of the living room, for example. It was made of the same dark wood most of the furniture was done in, and it was designed along the same generous lines and finished with the same unhurried craftsmanship. Tom called it hopelessly old fashioned, with its heavy, wide-set legs and the tilted top that couldn't be adjusted. But he'd done his first engineering work on that table and had a sentimental attachment it.
Tom was able to lean over it and work with total freedom, Millie supposed. The table would never have done for her; the front edge was precisely at thigh-top level and if she'd bent over it she would have been lying on the work. Not that it could hurt the table, of course-it would have borne the weight of a prize boar-but she'd have wound up with the drawing on her front instead of on the paper.
Apart from that keepsake, there was nothing of Tom's downstairs. The dining room furniture had been imported and was massive enough to hold its own in a room with a twelve foot ceiling. Even the enormous chandelier-a cross of timbers suspended by log chain from the structural beams-failed to detract from the air of hospitality that the great table and proportionately ample chairs exuded. In the living room were two huge armchairs, fully upholstered in blue plush, and a sofa in the same style. Each chair had its own lamp table, and the couch had two. A long, narrow table stretched before the windows.
The bedrooms had been furnished after a single style, the only double bed being in the room she and Tom used upstairs. The other three bedrooms contained two single beds each. Every bed was a four-poster, built to support a canopy and side curtains, and each was high enough to require climbing onto rather than falling upon.
This afternoon there was an atmosphere of grimness about the collection. If it weren't for the drafting table and the chests Tom had in the three upstairs rooms, it would be hard to believe that anyone lived here with her. And if she should pull down the shades at all the windows no one would imagine that she was at home, because no glimmer of light or sound would penetrate the outer shell of the structure. If Millie had wanted isolation she could have telephoned the guests and said she was going to Denver with Tom. But isolation was one thing she didn't need tonight, and she was thankful the party was ahead of her.
Millie finally forced herself to rest. Perhaps two or three hours' sleep would free her of the black mood that enveloped her. But even in the seclusion of her room with the shades down she found it difficult to drift away from herself. At last she opened her eyes and knew that she had slept, knowing because it took concentrated effort to orient herself. From the scandalous disarray of her housedress, Millie knew she must have slept restlessly; the skirt was bunched at her waist and the top was cruelly twisted around her torso. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes felt puffy and she had no idea what time of day it was.
When she was finally awake, she showered and dressed, taking extra care under the urging of some instinct that insisted being alone meant she had to look twice as good to make up for Tom's absence. She settled on one of Tom's favorites when it came to a dress. It was a smooth-fitting, high-necked style with a row of tiny buttons down the front to the skirt top. And the skirt top was at the broadest part of her hips, with the length now out of fashion with the passage of miniskirts. But fashion was a nebulous thing in Jakestown, and Millie wanted to know Tom would have liked the way she looked if he'd been here. The outfit had everything to recommend itself to him, she knew. She'd noticed the way he eyed the hemline when he thought she was busy with something else. Besides, even if she wore a Mother Hubbard around him and it was this shade of scarlet, he'd think it was sexy.
The Deckers were nearly forty-five minutes early, and the Chases walked up the steps before Tracy had much more than finished introducing Roberto. Millie felt half panicked, wondering if she'd forgotten the starting time, but she had to get through the introduction before she could explore that problem.
"So you're the famous brother," she remarked. "We don't get many bachelors along Bonanza row, you know. We've been hurt that you wouldn't show yourself."
"The women, she means." Tracy laughed. Roberto grinned wickedly. "Most places they arrest a guy for that."
"What?" Millie squinted, feeling blank.
"Showing themselves. Anyhow, it was a lousy joke. I'm Bob around my friends, and I'm damn glad you asked Tracy to bring me tonight."
Millie suppressed the desire to scream while Bob studied her. No one had ever undressed her with his eyes more openly or efficiently than he was doing and none had ever been quite so eloquent with his expression when it came to conveying the idea of what he'd do if she were undressed. She countered the force of her self-consciousness by studying him as intently.
Bob was darker than Tracy but not as dark as his name had led Millie to expect. He looked like a bronzed gypsy, she thought, and there were scars on his face to suggest that he'd met life violently and head-on as it came, and a gleam in his eye and crow's-feet at the comers of his mouth to hint that he'd enjoyed it that way. He was tall and angular and looked as hard as the legs of the tables. His hands startled her with their appearance of delicate control. Millie's overall impression was that Roberto wanted diversions in his sex life far more outlandish than Tom ever desired, and that there would be no denying him. She shivered at the thought.
"We needed you," she murmured. "And we just had to meet you."
Paul and Frances were inside by now, and Paul had closed the door. Wayne touched Millie's elbow.
"Let me fill in at the bar for Tom," he said. "That's a man's job."
"Oh, thanks!" Her relief at his interjection made her knees feel wobbly and she clung to his arm. "I'll show you where everything is." It was a standing joke that she and Tom had refused to install a real bar.
She led Wayne to the kitchen, where he pulled the blind closed with a grin. "Hate to have the natives watch what we're drinking," he quipped.
She laughed and showed him where the bottles were and got out a tray of glasses. "The other stuff's in that cupboard," she said. "The stirrers and shot glasses and stuff."
"Fine. No problem." He called out loudly. "What's everyone having for starters?"
There was an immediate chorus of replies, and she was glad Wayne had to decipher them instead of her. Bob came into the room and rustled a longish paper bag she'd seen in his hand without the information registering.
"For the hostess," Bob said softly, extracting a tall bottle of some brilliant green liquor. "The best, guaranteed genuine, smuggled absinthe."
"Oh, how nice!" exclaimed Millie. She tried to remember where she'd heard "absinthe" and in what connection. As ignorant as she was about liquor it must have been something special to have sounded familiar just now. She'd have to pretend to like it no matter how it tasted.
Wayne gravely poured a double shot into a glass for her before beginning to mix any of the other drinks, and she sipped experimentally. To her pleased surprise it tasted as good as it smelled; she wouldn't have to pretend. She loved the strong licorice flavor, and it was smooth and warm going down. She continued to sip while Wayne mixed the rest of the drinks, and she held out her glass for a refill when he was ready to serve the others. He smiled and filled the glass to the brim.
"Go easy," he said kindly. "That imported stuff packs a wallop."
"I'll quit as soon as I start to feel dizzy," she remarked. "When I do that I'm always sober by the time the party's over."
Wayne and Bob exchanged knowing glances and she bridled at their male assurance. She'd show them! She knew what she could hold and she didn't need a damn babysitter to hold her hand when she was drinking! She sipped deeply and followed Wayne from the kitchen. She noticed that the blinds were drawn in the dining room and living room, and she protested gently.
Frances looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Millie. Does it bother you?"
"Not terribly. But it seems so inhospitable with the others not here yet."
"We'll turn on the outside lights when it's time for them to get here. But we can put the blinds up if you'd rather!" Frances hesitated. "It's just an awful phobia of mine ... a thing from when I was a kid. I can't stand to think of people looking in out of the dark at me!"
"Then leave them down, honey. No problem." Millie paused. Frances had said something about when it was time for the others to get here. So she'd not made a mistake about the time. "I didn't expect you so soon," she said. "I'm glad you were early, but I didn't expect it."
Tracy smiled. "We thought a half hour of warming up before the bridge started would be fun. Besides, the hostess deserves the chance to get to know strange guests before she has to introduce them."
"Watch out who you're calling strange," commented Bob with a rumble in his voice.
"Talk about strange...." Paul laid his hand on Frances's shoulder and squinted at the amber fluid in his glass. "I saw my first load of Rocky Mountain hay this afternoon."
"Where?" asked Wayne.
"Going right through town. Four or five loads before it got dark. Don't see how they get those rigs down that goddamn road!"
Millie laughed. "With the outside wheels hanging over the edge," she said. "If you ever meet one on the gorge you'd better find a wide place to pull over and stop!"
Paul shook his head and whistled. "Not me, lady! It'll be a cold day in hell before I get caught on that road during haying season!"
Wayne leaned back and stared up at the shadowed beams. "Hay, Man, I was halfway through college before I found out animals ate it. I thought they grew it just for recreation."
There was a ripple of amusement and Millie stiffened. She resented that kind of humor in the early stages of a party; it tended to push things too far too fast. But she hadn't reacted that way just now, and the fact disturbed her. She was even more disturbed by the vivid picture that came to her mind of romping naked in the field of fresh-mown hay. She'd never done anything like that and there was no reason to imagine it now. Nor was there any reason to feel suddenly short of breath and drum-tight in the groin at such a daydream. God! She felt as hot as that bitch had looked out on the street this afternoon! Her ears were ringing a little, too, and her mouth felt dry and cottony. Millie tilted her glass to fill her mouth with the liquid and let it trickle slowly down her throat. Maybe she ought to sit down until she felt more normal. Things had come along too much on each other's heels today; she was almost literally going around in circles.
Millie somehow edged past her guests when she and Wayne and Bob had come back from the kitchen and she was standing beside the drafting table. By letting one hip slouch outward against the table she could steady herself without being obvious about it. If she didn't have to move right away she'd get off this kick of disorientation and be in good shape. The worst part of it wasn't feeling so horribly aroused sexually, although that was bad enough; it was the fuzzy sensation in her head and the way things blurred for her. And if she'd ever needed to have a clear head it was now, because everyone else was already drunk; they were swaying incredibly and making no sense at all in what they tried to say!
There was a curious tingling around Millie's nipples. She concentrated, thrusting her shoulders back and making her breasts press hard against her bra. They were jutting out and up like the Twin Peaks to the south, she thought, and she looked down to be sure. They were. They strained against the weave of her dress and made the buttons tug at the buttonholes until the front of the garment gaped. But stretching this way intensified the tingling so she could study it better. It felt as if her nipples had swollen and hardened and were being kneaded. It generated a desire within her for the wet warmth of a sucking mouth, and she panted raggedly at the thought. If she could only be with Tom right now ... if she could only melt to the touch of firm, seeking lips on those nipples and the reassurance of strong, male fingers pressing inward on the flaming mounds of flesh behind them.
She squirmed at the thought and her hips slipped past the front comer of the tabletop. The comer was there when her buttocks passed it, and by pressing back she caught it in their crevice, steadying herself and avoiding the embarrassment of a fall. But the hard, unyielding sharpness between her taut cheeks drove daggers of flame through her and made her gasp and clamp her cheeks on it. The tightening of her buttocks rotated her thighs and drove her love mound forward so that when she looked past her breasts she saw the fullness of her lower abdomen and an unmistakable bulge that was the mound.
She held herself motionless and savored the pulse at the surface of her breasts and the deeper surges of excitement that washed forward from her bottom into her crotch. Even the small of her back and the region around her navel prickled with sensitivity now, and the inner surfaces of her thighs quivered and rubbed slowly past each other in sympathetic satisfaction-seeking. She felt the fuzziness in her head beginning to clear and managed to focus her eyes at a distance further than her own body. Bob was staring at her, his gaze directed at her breasts and appearing to see through her dress and bra as if they weren't there. It was such an intense gaze she thought she felt it, and it caressed her hungry flesh and fondled the aching swellings.
Millie felt herself drawn into Bob's eyes, helpless to move and unwilling to give up the harmless pleasure that her stance provided. Bob let his glance travel slowly downward from her breasts and she could imagine the sensation of nylon jersey sliding over her skin, as if the moving stare were drawing her dress with it. Her illusion of increasing nakedness persisted and grew, and when Bob studied her belly and her hips and the out-thrust ridge of her crotch it was exactly as if he were counting the pubic hairs and gauging the firmness of her pink folds.
The fuzziness left Millie with a rush and she knew she'd never been more sharply aware in her life. She could identify every nerve ending and hear every whisper. There wasn't a detail in the room that wasn't crystal clear or a thought that wasn't written in the air. The sensations that flowed inward from her body formed a distinct pattern of need and desire and the pressure at her bottom was the center and the source.
She winked her buttocks steadily, acknowledging the superiority of that need and knowing abruptly that none of the others mattered. What they might see and what they'd think was secondary to that pulsing desire that was consuming her. Her guests were in one world and she in another right now, so that the only reason she saw them so clearly was some supernatural power in her vision. And that power was remarkable! It let her see the unspoken message of approval and lust in Bob's eyes and to know that there was no more conversation and that Paul and Wayne were looking at her the same way Bob was. Frances looked calm and clinical, but Tracy had the expression that had brought those curious moments of apprehension.
Why she should have been apprehensive about the actions of someone in another world she couldn't imagine now. It had been so silly of her! After all, when one was in one's own world it made no difference how other people looked or acted, any more than it mattered what the animals in the zoo saw or thought of one. On the other hand these "other-world" guests could be useful. She was thirsty again and she could get them to bring her more to drink.
She smiled faintly at Bob and held her empty glass toward him. He returned the smile and came to her slowly, as if he were caught in the slow-motion part of a film. In the same frozen motion, he took the glass and left the room, returning after a long time with more of the green stuff.
"What did you say this was?" she asked as she tilted the glass to her lips.
Bob watched her drain it, then said. "Absinthe. Guaranteed a hundred percent potent."
Ah, yes. Absinthe. Absolutely delicious! Why don't we have it in the liquor cabinet, she wondered. With Tom's obsession about having whatever anyone asked for, too! But the name did mean something. Absinthe! Of course! France-and illegal even there because it aroused passion! Aphrodisiac, Tom had said.
Something in Millie wanted to react. She was clearly aware of an inner alarm bell and of the relaxed, deliberate act of her consciousness that stilled the alarm. But that wasn't right! Alarms had to be answered some way. And there were other guests coming who weren't in another world. They'd see the way she was burning and put it in personal terms!
"The Caldwells and...." She didn't have to name them all, she reflected. All she had to do was communicate. "They ought to be here now."
Tracy smiled gently. "Not tonight, darling."
CHAPTER THREE
Not tonight. She'd talked with Edith while she was shopping at Sam's; hadn't she told Edith the party was on unless she phoned? Or was it the other way around? No! She remembered clearly.
"But I told Edith we'd go ahead with bridge!"
"Yes, I know. Edith called. I guess everyone was talking on the telephone about Tom's going to Denver."
Well, it was something to talk about. This thing could wipe out everyone; they ought to be talking about it! "Then they'll come," she said. It was as simple as that.
"Not tonight. We thought it'd be unfair for you to have to carry on like everything was normal."
Thoughtful, Edith reflected. That was thoughtful of them. But she ought to have made that decision. Or maybe the rest had felt the strain and felt they didn't want to have to act as if things were normal. And the Chases and Deckers had come.
"Everyone just decided they ought to call it off?" she asked.
Tracy laughed softly. "I lied to them," she said. "I said I saw Tom pick you up before he left for Denver."
"Oh, no! Tracy!"
"For your own good, darling. You need a break."
"But they'll all think I'm gone!"
"They won't bother you."
They wouldn't, Millie thought. From the outside, the house was dark and still. Empty, to all appearances. But there was a party of sorts, and she was burning from the effects of absinthe supplied by Tracy's greedy-looking brother. If that new apprehension of hers was ever justified, it was now. And her whole being ought to be screaming with it.
"But you're here," she said.
"Yes darling. To help you."
"I don't need help."
"You and Tom."
"What do you mean?"
"Your marriage; it's showing signs of pressure." Millie shook her head. There was pressure; she knew it and so did Tom. They didn't talk about it, but it was there. The others could see it, apparently. They couldn't know it came from Tom's excesses in his bachelorhood-his difficulty in settling down to the reserve and dignity of married life. All they could see was probably the strained politeness where there should be close warmth and spontaneous sharing.
"You mean to help?" How could they?
"Inhibitions ruin marriages that could be good ones, Millie." Tracy sounded like a school teacher.
"Inhibitions!" Then they thought it was her fault!
"Being afraid to do fun things. Too afraid to find out they really are fun."
It had to be a nightmare. In front of these three men, Tracy was talking about sex. That's all she could be talking about! And about doing things respectable married women wouldn't think of doing. As if the success of a marriage depended on them. And Tracy and the other newcomers to the valley were going to help Millie and Tom with that? Tonight? What the hell, she thought. A damn sensitivity session-a psychiatric treatment-group therapy! And at a time when she was tingling with need, her body throbbing with hunger and awareness of itself. She might say anything!
A wave of desire washed over Millie. Her glass slipped from her fingers and fell to the carpet. Thank God it was empty, she thought as she turned away from her guests. She leaned hard against the front of the drafting table, gripping its edges with her white knuckles. If she could just hold perfectly still for a moment maybe the spasm would pass.
Tracy and Frances joined her, each resting a hand on one of her shoulders and whispering nonsense to her. Through their whispers she thought of the way it was getting between Tom and her. How long had it been since he'd made love to her? How long? Much too long, however it was measured in days and nights. And even the touch of Tracy and Frances' hands as they stroked her arms inflamed her!
But what were they doing now? They were tugging at her hands, making her bend over the table until she could grasp the back corners of the drawing surface. It left her lying on the tabletop her already clamoring breasts pressing eagerly against the hard wood. And they were looping scarves on her wrists and knotting them and doing something beneath the tabletop.
They released her arms and she tried to straighten, but the scarves went taut and held, and she realized they'd tied them on the tops of the back table legs.
Millie's exertions scrubbed her belly against the table, and her breasts flattened and she panted. It felt good-knives of pleasure slicing into her and heat sweeping over her in hard-driving surges.
There were hands on Millie's ankles and she felt her legs separated, her feet leaving the floor and then her ankles touching the front legs of the table. And something was being drawn tight, like more scarves or something, and she knew her ankles were being lashed to the table legs.
"Oh, don't do that!" She pleaded. "It's too undignified. Can't we talk without that?"
Tracy chuckled quietly; Millie was certain it was Tracy.
"Talk, darling? Waste of time."
There were hands on Millie's back, rubbing and caressing, following the contours of her waist. That was part of sensitivity, she remembered from the articles. Touch. Breaking through the 'people' barriers. And shocking one, of course. Like they were shocking her now, feeling her buttocks and the backs of her thighs so she vibrated like a violin string under the effects of the absinth. They weren't being very nice about it, either. The hands were under her skirt, sliding over the nylon of her pantyhose and upward onto her buttocks again inside her skirt. She twisted and saw that Tracy was laying her skirt up on the small of her back, exposing the pantyhose.
"Don't do that!" Millie protested thickly. That was going too far. And that was Bob standing beside Tracy, his hands all over Millie's bottom.
"Bob! For God's sake, stop that!"
Bob grinned down at her. "Feels good, doesn't it, baby. Just what the doctor ordered."
It did feel good. God, but it felt good! She couldn't help the way her hips surged with the hunger that flooded her. And maybe that was a good way to loosen things up for therapy. Never mind the way the moist heat tingled in her crotch. They didn't have to know about that.
She felt fingers at the tops of the pantyhose, turning them back over the swell of her bottom. The fingers worked tugged the nylon over her belly, between it and the tabletop and rolling it over her hips.
"No!" She screamed. "Not that! No! NO!"
But no one paid attention to her command. Her bottom was bare and the pantyhose cut into her thighs, stretching across between them and leaving her crotch uncovered. It was really too much, even for sensitivity therapy. Especially with the hands that again caressed her bottom and kneaded her buttocks. It did things to her she couldn't fight, like making her spread her buttocks and wink her vulva and squirm on the drafting table. She was behaving like a slut and couldn't begin to control her desire.
But the rest were being honest with her, she reflected. They'd all moved where she could see them. All but Bob. And they were undressing. It was a heady thing, watching them pull their clothes off in her living room, with her helpless to control her own party and writhing from the caresses on her bottom. If she were herself she'd be mortified. As it was, too much was happening for her to focus on any one thing and demand that it stop.
"It isn't real!" she exclaimed. "You're teasing me!"
"We wouldn't do that." Tracy's voice sounded soothing and gentle. "We're going to help you."
"I don't need help! Oh, God, I just need to get back to normal!"
"And not know? Darling, that's what's wrong between you and Tom!"
"What's that mean?" And then, "Oof! Bob, you stop that!" His fingers were exploring the crevice between her buttocks, making great jolts of excitement stab through her.
"Normal," said Tracy. "Having to have it normal. Being afraid to try anything else."
If she'd known it could be so exciting to have her bottom stroked and mauled this way, maybe she'd have let Tom do it. Even if it was so terribly undignified to be bent over this way, Tom would have liked it, and it was thrilling enough to overcome her sense of propriety. She wasn't going to let things go any further, but she'd somehow work around to this with Tom when he got back. He'd blow his mind on it!
"Okay!" she panted. "You made your point!"
"Some of it, Millie. There's a lot more. You've got to find out how much fun you've been refusing. But we'll help you."
Then they meant to do more. Good God, no! She jerked furiously at the lashings. If she couldn't get hold of herself, they might even rape her! The way she was responding to these caresses, they'd think she wanted more! They might even think she was willing to let them make love to her!
She gasped as she felt fingers slipping over her labia.
Her hips leaped violently and her arms tightened in a spasm of passion.
She shrieked. "Don't! DON'T!"
Wayne was beside her now and was stroking her left arm and her side. She felt as if his fingers were charged with electricity and the current were flowing through her as he worked his hands lower on her and then around her ribs to the side of her breast. In spite of herself, she thrust herself up so his hand could cup over her breast. And she realized that Paul was on the other side repeating the same caresses. There was no fighting the responses of her body; they were involuntary and immediate and uncontrollable. Her breath came in great sobs of desire and she knew she couldn't resist the rising tide of pleasure. Even the fingers that probed into the mouth of her vagina and rubbed along the trough between her labia produced too good a feeling for her to deny.
Millie could only accept the delightful shuddering of her body and let it twist as it would to the demands of the fingers that teased her. And so long as she kept her wishes to herself no one need know what her body was crying for. They needn't know what those quickly stroking hands in her crotch were suggesting to her or how unbelievably marvelous it felt when they swept up along her vulva and carried her wetness into the valley between her buttocks.
Right now Bob's fingers were lingering at her anus, pressing and rubbing in tiny circles and covering it with the slippery juice she'd oozed from her vagina. Deep thrills shot through her in a way she'd never before experienced; she'd been given excitement triggers where they had no business being and it was a startling and frightening thing to learn.
The hands at her breasts squeezed and massaged and there were fingers toying at the rim of her vaginal mouth besides those that probed at her rectum. The desire within her grew and pulsed insanely and she let herself imagine how she must look to Tracy and Frances. With her arms stretched widely toward the back corners of the tabletop, her upper torso had to look like a wedge. Her shoulders were broad even when she relaxed in a normal posture and now the effect was surely heightened. But her waist was as small as always, so there must be a continuous tapering line from her hands to her waist. She knew her skirt was bunched there so the heart shape of her hips and bottom were fully visible, and she supposed her pubic hair must catch the light as it framed the swollen tissues in her crotch. But her labia felt puffed and spread and must wink pinkly around Bob's busy hand.
Her bottom was thrust out and up by her position and every tightening of her legs must accentuate its eagerness. She had her knees bent somewhat, but they jerked so hard that she could feel her belly pounding against the edge of the table, and the tendons in the backs of her thighs must be leaping spasmodically.
"Wait a minute," she heard Tracy say. "She's going to ruin those pantyhose."
Silly, thought Millie. They were already ruined! With the way she was thrashing they must have sprung holes all over! But someone was loosening her ankles and letting her feet down so she could bring them together. And then there were hands sliding the pantyhose down her thighs and past her knees. In a moment the clinging nylon was at her ankles and being pulled carefully over her feet and her legs were naked. And then hands were pulling her feet out to the legs of the drafting table again and tying them as they had been before.
There was a thing about naked legs. Maybe it was the way the air slipped gently over the skin of the inner sides of her thighs. But being naked from her waist down had a totally different feeling from having her legs sheathed in nylon and it removed the comforting pretense that they were just inducing a sense of intimacy for therapeutic purposes. Every touch was another message of sex now and she knew there was a secret wish for something to fill the emptiness of her belly.
Neither Wayne nor Paul had interrupted the gentle manipulation of her breasts during the time Tracy-if it was Tracy-had been removing the pantyhose, and now Bob's hands were once again playing with the heated trough of her vulva and the tingling rim of her anus. Millie jerked her thighs and felt her flesh harden and loosen. The table groaned under her writhing and showed its strength as it accepted the strain its designer had never expected it to bear. She felt a wild delight at her helplessness under the assault that was being made and no longer cared what happened to her.
The finger at her anus pressed harder and slipped inward past the slippery ring, forcing her sphincter open and stabbing into her. There was a momentary burning sensation that subsided and was replaced with a throbbing feeling of unbearable pleasure. She thrust herself back onto the intruding digit and wiggled her hips from side to side. Waves of sensuous gratification surged through her and made the room whirl giddily as the penetration continued.
To Millie's dismay the finger withdrew. She groaned and squirmed and something was laid in the valley. It filled the space between her buttocks and she winked them to grasp it. Prickly hair pressed over them and a hard, broad wall of flesh flattened them. God, she thought, it's Bob and his penis is there! Right there!
It had to be his penis filling her valley and being squeezed by her bottom, his belly pushing against her and his pubic hair a prickling mat between them. She ought to scream and plead for him to stop. But it felt too good to fight and she wanted that penis somewhere else. She wanted it where she'd never wanted anything but Tom's! And she wasn't going to let herself yield to that hunger! No matter how excited she was!
But Bob had eased the pressure of his belly and she could feel the bulbous head of his penis sliding up and down the crevice between her buttocks and through the valley of her labia. Waves of dizzy joy swept over her and she moaned softly. She felt her fingernails biting into the palms of her hands and the force of her teeth clenching. Her cheek pushed onto the wood of the tabletop and her hips surged with wild need. She was behaving like a shameless bitch and feeling no resentment against the continuing probings.
The head of Bob's penis continued wallowing in the wetness of her crotch and Millie held her breath for the moment when it would plunge into her. But it slid upward again, slick and hard, and deposited its load of lubricant onto her anus. She felt it rest there, a blunt knob of heat and pressure that threatened each instant to plunge through the tight ring of her sphincter. She clamped her buttocks on it and concentrated on keeping her rectum firmly closed, but the force against the circlet depressed her flesh as if she were being pushed inside out ... or outside in, she thought dazedly.
The trouble was-and she was grasping at random thoughts to distract herself from the reality of the awful thing that was happening to her-the trouble was that she was so slippery with the juice Bob had smeared over her anus that there was nothing to keep the head of his penis out but the squeeze of her muscles. And they weren't going to be strong enough! In spite of her best effort, she could feel herself spreading before the pressure; his knob was slowly but surely edging its way in. It was wedging her rectum open a fraction of a millimeter at a time and there was nothing further she could do to prevent it.
She felt a burning sensation at the pressure point and was certain that her hole would split. There wasn't any way for it to stretch any further than it already had. But it continued to stretch and to burn worse, and she found somewhere another reserve of strength to resist with. For a moment the inward movement stopped and she dared to breathe. And then the force on the bulb increased and she felt it sliding inward again. There was an instant when she felt her hips were being spread apart as well as her rectum and she flung herself backward with a desperate thrust to get the agonizing entry over. As she did there was a rush of sliding sensation and a great release of tension. The width of the ridge on the back of the head of Bob's penis had been replaced by the smaller size of his shaft, she thought gratefully. There'd be no more stretching.
But she experienced a tremendous feeling of fullness, and her body splayed itself, arching and reaching so that Millie had a fleeting recollection of a rubber glove she'd used once. The fingers of the glove had been crumpled inside, and she'd held the wrist in a small, gathered circle and blown into the glove. Squeezing the wrist to hold the air in, she'd pressed the blown-up 'balloon' and the fingers had popped out, straight and rigid. She was like that now; her arms thrust outward and her knees straightened and her bottom stabbed upward while she quivered with her sense of distension.
But the sliding stopped and Bob's belly was jammed against her bottom, the unyielding ridge of his pelvis crushing her flesh against her own pelvic bones and her tailbone and his pubic hair forming a bristling cushion between them. He began to pump and surges of insane delight coursed through her. It was good after all when she stopped squeezing and forced her sphincter to relax! And it wasn't as if they were actually having intercourse. In fact, she could enjoy it without any kind of guilt; she was utterly helpless to defend herself and he wasn't stealing anything from Tom.
Flexing her knees and jerking at the loops that held her wrists, she flung herself backward repeatedly to meet Bob's forward lunges. Each impact jarred her and sent another wall of ecstasy through her. She thrust against her wrist lashings to raise her chest, tilting her head back to stare ahead at the paneling. The giddiness of approaching orgasm seized her and a haze blurred the details of the room. Millie thought she heard a murmur of comments from the spectators but the roaring inside her head drowned out their meaning. The pain that she'd felt in the beginning was gone entirely in the sea of excitement that had risen over her.
Dry, rough hands clutched at her hips, sweeping them back and forth. Millie could feel the thumbs on the upper curves of her buttocks and the fingers curving around the fronts of her hips and of her thighs. And something thumped rhythmically against the pulpy tissues of her crotch; that had to be Bob's testicles, swinging at her like the clapper of a great bell.
Shudders racked her as her delight mounted. Millie twisted and drove her bottom backward to feel the warmth of Bob's belly. A frightening contraction seized her vagina and made her squeeze her buttocks together. At the sudden pressure, there was an answering pulse of swelling in the base of Bob's penis and an abrupt new heat in the core of her belly. He was flooding her with his semen, she thought wildly. He was coming and she was starting to! The contractions intensified and the roaring in her head shut out all other sound. The haze before her eyes thickened to blot out the room and her body trembled violently. Bob's hands tightened on her hips and crammed her back against his groin and she felt a flurry of motion in the roots of his penis.
Slowly the urgency drained from Millie's tortured frame and the frenzy of Bob's thrust decreased. He shuddered against her and his fingers loosened, letting her belly drop to the tabletop. She moaned softly in the new relaxation of her body, and then squeezed to expel the softening staff that pinioned her. It slid outward and hung up with the ridge of the head trapped by her ring. But she bore down and felt it squirt free with a rush. And laughter welled in her throat at the thought of what Bob's proud penis had now become.
CHAPTER FOUR
Millie let herself collapse against the surface of the tabletop while her panting subsided and her heartbeat slowed. With the excitement quieting she had time to think of her position and her actions again and yield to renewed strength in her inhibitions. Revulsion nauseated her at what she'd submitted to and the way she'd responded. A dry sob caught at her throat and her fists clenched in impotent protest. These newcomers to the valley had used her for a plaything against her will and she'd abandoned her reserve and her breeding in eager acceptance of their degraded game. For a time she'd been as shameless as that bitch in the street this morning.
But something was wrong. Where her excitement should gradually have diminished until she felt none at all she still felt a stubborn thrill at the way she was exposed. Instead of rage and embarrassment flooding her because of the way her splayed legs revealed her crotch and because of the crumpled ring her skirt made around her waist, she still felt tingles and a slow winking of her labia. It wasn't natural or right and it scared her. But she remembered vague snatches of conversation about aphrodisiacs and realized that she might have several climaxes before the effects of the green liquor wore off. If Tracy and the others wanted her to, that is. She shook off her lassitude and raised her head to look for Tracy. The tawny woman lolled against the mantle looking the personification of sex with her naked breasts jutting boldly out and the thick pubic thatch catching reddish glints of light.
"Tracy...?" Millie spoke softly.
Tracy bent toward her. "Yes?"
"What ... what're you going to do with me now?"
"I dunno. That's what I was thinking about."
"Do I have to stay like this?"
"Well, I guess not." But Tracy didn't come to untie her. "There's something primitive about you that way, darling. Something that appeals to me."
"You can't possibly get away with this. How long do you think you're going to ... to...."
"How long are we going to play with you?"
"Yes."
"Oh, tonight and tomorrow, maybe."
"Oh, no!" It was a shriek, despite Millie's effort to repress it. "You can't!"
"Why not? No one's here. Everyone knows you went to Denver with Tom."
"But you're going to let me go sometime, aren't you?"
"Darling! Of course!"
"They'll arrest you when I tell."
"You won't tell." Tracy sounded utterly confident of herself.
"You're out of your mind!"
"No. The valley needs our money. You need it!"
"Money!" Money against this? Good God, it was worse than suggesting she turn prostitute to earn what it would take to save the corporation! There wasn't any amount of money that would make her submit to this kind of degradation! No matter how much fun it was while it was happening! "You couldn't pay enough to make me do this!"
Tracy laughed good-humoredly. "Probably not. But we're doing it."
"By force!"
"So? There's a difference, you see. We're not buying your body; we're buying silence."
There was a difference, Millie reflected. By the time she was free to expose these people they'd have finished whatever they meant to do to her. Nothing she said or anyone did could undo what she'd gone through. The best she could get would be revenge. And there might be money enough to make her give up that. But Tracy was talking again.
"Look, Millie. You're going to get something out of this. Besides excitement, I mean."
"Like what!" demanded Millie.
"You're going to find out it's fun to do all the things we make you do. When you start making love with Tom you aren't going to turn him off the instant he touches you someplace unusual. And he's going to like screwing you better!"
"Having you people do those things to me isn't going to make me any more willing to do them when I'm free to make a choice," muttered Millie.
"It will unless you're a worse prude than I think."
"Why should it?"
"Because you won't be afraid and because you'll know how damn exciting it is."
Millie squirmed and groaned quietly. She couldn't go on arguing. The knowledge that she was exposed and lewdly available was combining with the absinthe to generate a depth of desire that was driving everything else from her mind. And a seed of cunning had taken root in her thought. She couldn't prevent these people from doing what they wanted with her. In fact, they could more than likely make her do anything they wanted her to, which was something else again. But if they wanted to make her experience things she hadn't with Tom, maybe she could escape the one sin she couldn't ever forgive herself for. And that had suddenly become more important than anything else. No matter what else happened, she didn't want one of these penises in her vagina! Well, she might want it physically, but she could face Tom and accept his love without cringing if she'd held that one act sacred. Whatever happened, then, she'd force herself to cooperate so long as she diverted them from that one act.
It might sound silly to anyone else, she thought, but she'd be faithful to Tom throughout the coming indignities if she could preserve that one thing that she shared with him.
Tracy pushed away from the fireplace and came to Millie. Her fingers were quick and efficient as she untied Millie's wrists and Millie had to cling to the back of the tabletop to keep from sliding off until Tracy had her ankles loose.
When her feet swung to the floor, Millie hesitated before straightening. From the numbness, she was afraid her legs might collapse under her weight. But Tracy massaged them vigorously and they began to burn as if they'd been asleep. And when the burning eased Millie pushed herself erect. Her skirt fell into place and she smoothed it self-consciously, aware of the amused expression in the men's eyes. Someone had removed her pantyhose from the room, as nearly as she could tell; they weren't anywhere to be seen, anyhow. And even if they'd been right there she wouldn't have made a spectacle of herself by putting them on it front of everyone. She crossed unsteadily to one of the armchairs and sank into it. At least she was reasonably protected from their lewd glances here.
But there was nothing she could do to ease the insistent tension in her breasts and crotch. The continuing tenderness of her rectum seemed to act as a source of awareness and it kept her tingling and inwardly writhing. And when she realized that Wayne was eyeing her with a gleam of hunger in his expression she wriggled eagerly. She glanced at Tracy and then at Frances and knew that both of them recognized the gathering intent in Wayne's manner. They looked from him to Millie and smiled, then both rose to approach her. She shivered apprehensively and waited.
There was something in Tracy's expression when she reached Millie that commanded her to get to her feet, and she stood between the two women hating herself for her sudden willingness to start again. They casually grasped her wrists and each drew one behind her and held it against the small of her back while Wayne lazily pushed himself off the couch and came forward. He gazed at Millie's breasts as he approached, and she felt an abrupt tightening around her nipples.
Slowly and purposefully, Wayne placed his hands on her hips and rubbed, the material of her skirt sliding over the bare skin beneath and shooting sparks of excitement through her. He let his hands cup themselves over her buttocks and squeezed, then ran them around her and fingered the softness of her lower belly. Millie held her breath and sucked her belly in, but his hands moved deliberately upward over her front toward her breasts. When they reached them, his fingers curved and began to knead the fullness while he bent forward to kiss her.
She warmed to the moist firmness of his lips and caught a scent of pine on his face. Her lips worked in response to his and she parted them at the gentle probing of his tongue. It was strange to be kissing someone besides Tom. As fond as she was of the other husbands among the valley crowd there'd been only rare occasions when she'd kissed them. New Year's Eve, maybe, and maybe a birthday or something. But for the most part she reserved her kisses for Tom. And even when she made an exception it wasn't the searching, hungry kind of kiss this one was.
She found herself closing her eyes and turning up her face and thrusting greedily against Wayne's mouth, sucking at his tongue and pressing hers to its rough surface. And her body strained to share in the embrace, with her breasts quivering and her back arching to push her belly forward and her breasts up. Her hips were beginning to undulate and she knew that the involuntary responses within her were coming into play.
Wayne broke free of the kiss and laughed quietly. He looked down at her still-arched body and ran his hand lightly down her front, then unbuttoned the top button of the dress. She flinched and twisted briefly, then forced herself to stand still while his fingers unfastened each button in turn. When he'd unbuttoned the lowest button, below her navel, he used both hands to push the front of the dress open, gazing approvingly at the nakedness of her belly and the tautness of her bra cups. And then he pushed the material off her shoulders and let it settle slowly down her arms to her elbows.
Tracy and Frances silently shifted Millie's arms to let the sleeves slip from them and the garment dropped from her body to the floor. Wearing only her jewelry and her bra, Millie held herself proudly erect and tried to ignore Wayne's examination. But when he moved close and his hands reached around her to the back of her bra, she sensed that her body was betraying her by thrusting itself out to touch his. Wayne chuckled and pressed his belly to hers, trapping his upright penis between them so its hard shaft couched itself in a willing depression in her abdominal muscles, the head resting at her solar plexus.
Millie felt the tightness of her bra vanish and the cups swing out from her breasts, and Tracy and Frances pulled the shoulder straps free of her shoulders and off her arms. With the bra on the floor, she was naked, and she thrilled at the knowledge. There was even a degree of thrill in seeing the other two men get up and come to join Wayne and the women, and she grunted with pleasure when they reached out and felt her cool flesh. But she was startled at what followed.
Tracy and Frances brought Millie's arms from behind her back and raised them, resting them across their shoulders and gripping her wrists tightly. Bob bent to seize her left ankle and Paul her right, and they lifted her feet from the floor and forward until she hung face upward between them and the two women. Spreading her thighs brutally, each man ducked his head inside the angle at the back of one of her knees and pulled her foot down so that her legs were supported on their shoulders and around the backs of their necks. And Wayne went around until he was grinning at her across the length of her torso, his chin hidden behind the thicket of her pubic hair.
Wild with excitement and longing, she was still humiliated at the thought of what Wayne could see. She fought off the recurring desire to squirm against the uncomfortable spreading because she knew it would look like sexual eagerness. And she tried to gaze unblinkingly into Wayne's eyes to prove her control. But embarrassment washed over her and she felt heat rise to her face, and then Wayne put his hands to her gaping crotch. At the first touch she lost her pretended composure. Her hips leaped convulsively and her back snapped into an arch. She saw her breasts bounce and felt Wayne's fingers slip over the surfaces of her labia, parting them and caressing them intimately.
He bent his neck and lowered his face into the shelter of her pubic thatch, and she felt a new sensation between the sensitized folds that his fingers separated. His tongue! she thought wildly. He is licking me! Lapping at the trough of my vulva! I was producing unimaginable tingles over her entire body. Millie blew her breath through pursed lips and strained to thrust her thighs further apart. Her hips rose and fell erratically and her breasts surged back and forth over her chest.
Her vision wasn't restricted in this position the way it had been on the drafting table. Her shoulders were inches above Tracy's and Frances's and her hips hung somewhat below the level of Bob's and Paul's shoulders, as if she were sitting in an invisible hammock. Except when she arched her back and thrust her abdomen upward, the position made the flesh of her belly fold horizontally, and only the swaying mounds of her breasts obstructed her view. She could see the top of Wayne's head and the untroubled smoothness of his forehead above the bush of her pubic hair, and his eyes peered into her face from time to time over the gleaming strands. But most of his nose was hidden and she could only guess at the appearance of his mouth while his tongue caressed the inner slopes of her labia. Nor could she see his fingers as they pried her folds widely apart and pressed them against the outer angles of her crotch.
Wayne's tongue buried itself in the trough next to the mouth of her vagina and Paul and Bob joined arms beneath her bottom and pushed upward, raising her crotch and permitting Wayne to straighten from his stooped position. Millie gasped with heady delight as his tongue circled the rim of her vaginal mouth and flicked across the pulsing rim, and she moaned happily when it stabbed deeper and filled the opening with its firm warmth.
There were sensations in sex that were subtle and others that were blatant. Those that normally came with penetration into the vagina were masterful and insistent and drove her rapidly toward her climax, but this one was gentle and as compliant as the tissue it touched. The pressure of his lips on the tender surfaces that surrounded the opening sent shivers over her and intensified the thrill of penetration. After tonight, she'd dream forever of an instrument that would reach to the furthest recess of her vaginal barrel with the same flexibility and gentleness that Wayne's tongue had.
There was no such thing, she knew, and it would exist only in her imagination, but it would certainly exist there.
In one way, Tracy had been completely right. The thought of anyone's putting his mouth to her crotch would have filled her with repugnance-gave her twinges of mental discomfort even now as she ached with the pleasure of it-but there was a degree of stimulation that she could never have believed possible without feeling it. And she was fast losing the sense of violation and embarrassment she'd felt at first when Wayne dipped his tongue to her.
"It does ... feel ... good," she whispered to Tracy.
"Like nothing else in the world," Tracy murmured. "Guys like it, too. Like bears at a honey pot."
"Ooh-h-h!" Millie sighed at the effect of the expression. She'd heard 'honey pot' before, but it had been a term of derision in her mind. There'd been nothing to help her visualize it in the semi-reverent way she could now.
Wayne withdrew his tongue from her vagina and stroked it upward along her trough, his fingertips sliding along her labia at the same time. She felt his fingers reach the hood that covered her clitoris and peel it back, exposing the delicate lump of nerves. And his tongue touched the underside of the tip and sent a shrieking pulse of sensation into her. She bucked violently, flinging herself into a high arch and flattening the angle of her thighs. No finger play she'd ever experienced had created such flames of desire or awakened the savage response that this did! Her hips lashed up and down and swung wildly from side to side, and Wayne's lips closed over her miniature penis and sucked at it while the tip of his tongue continued to caress its point. He pressed his face tighter to her crotch, his head riding smoothly with the gyrations of her hips, and Millie felt as if he were dragging the hardening roll of flesh out of her by the roots.
Passion surged in her with a fierce, pounding beat and she tossed her head and gritted her teeth and moaned incoherently. She wrenched at the hands that imprisoned her wrists, desperate to free herself to push away the intolerable new torment. But she was still helpless to diminish Wayne's stimulation and could only throw herself about in the remote hope of dislodging him. She knew she wanted him to sustain his assault and drive her excitement even higher. But as her muscles jerked in the spasm that she knew was the prelude to her orgasm, Wayne eased the vigor of his sucking and let her tension decrease. She panted loudly and shook with mingled relief and disappointment, the hard edge of climax receding slowly.
He continued to suck, but he refrained from massaging the quivering organ with his tongue and she remained just below the peak of her passion. She felt Tracy's arm slip beneath her back and the woman lowered her mouth to Millie's nipple, sucking it in and worrying it with her teeth. Millie glanced at Frances in embarrassment and indignation and Frances smiled and imitated Tracy. The tousled tawny hair and the sleekly-piled, gleaming black touched over Millie's chest and the two women's cheeks dimpled with the force of their sucking. Millie felt her nipples tighten and pucker even though they were already stiffly erect, and the new stimulus blended with that at her crotch to make her moan.
Wayne released his finger grip on her tissues and thrust his hands beneath her buttocks beside Bob's and Paul's arms. The men spread her thighs still further apart while her crotch was elevated and rotated more directly into Wayne's face. He nibbled at her clitoris with his teeth, setting her nerves on edge and wrenching a guttural cry of eagerness from her, and something that she knew had to be his chin jammed into the depression around the mouth of her vagina.
Millie let her head hang back and slammed her body upward to its tightest arch, her fingers clawing to find flesh to claw. She tugged at her legs, bending her knees to hug the two men's necks, and pointed her toes inward. Bands of constriction circled her chest and she swallowed furiously while the roaring of impending orgasm rose in her head.
But again Wayne eased the force of his sucking and stopped her before she could achieve the relief of a climax, and she groaned in frustration and let herself sag. Tracy and Frances raised their heads and both smiled at Millie. There was such a light of affection in their expressions that she had to smile back at them. She did, realizing that it was more of a grimace than a smile. And their arms tightened momentarily in recognition of her effort.
Wayne let her clitoris slide out of his mouth and thrust his tongue into the trough of her vulva again. She sighed happily at the sudden end of the jangling sensations in the tiny organ and the deeper pulses of response that the new contact aroused. His tongue probed from side to side as it worked down the length of the trough to the mouth of her vagina and then thrust inward through the gulping rim. He pressed his face hard against her flesh and opened his mouth widely, sucking in a great mouthful of pulpy tissue until she felt as if all the meat of her labia was bunched inside the wet cavern and packed around his tongue. He sucked and chewed noisily and drove his tongue deeply into her, and a wild, unique sensation caught at Millie and made the muscles of her belly knot and jerk.
She drew a single deep breath and held it. Her head shook and her arms and legs hardened in a spasm that refused to relax. Her buttocks winked together and her neck stiffened as the tumult of sensation in her crotch heightened. Savage contractions ripped at the core of her belly and clutched her vagina and a ferocious tremor enveloped her. She thought she heard a primitive, undulating yell and realized dimly that it was her own. And she hung motionless except for a slow writhing of her hips as the contractions in her belly surged inward from her vaginal rim in relentless procession.
At last her rigidity began to slacken and the room slowed its whirling. Wayne's mouth relaxed as her frenzied shudders decreased, and he raised his head and grinned, his wet muzzle the first thing her clearing vision focused on.
"My God," she whispered. "I've never felt that way before!"
"Didn't hurt, did it." There was no hint of question in Wayne's tone.
"No. Oh, Wayne, it felt goo-oo-ood!" She shivered in the middle of the word.
Wayne laughed sympathetically. "Do a hell of a lot with the mouth you can't with anything else.
Pretty special sex weapon, baby."
His was, she decided'. But he didn't sound exactly as if that was what he meant. Well, Tom's would have been every bit as good; and that was probably what Wayne had in mind.
CHAPTER FIVE
While her overwrought fibers tremblingly released their spasmodic tensions and her breathing quieted, Millie continued to hang in her hammock-like position. The two women held her wrists, each of them using one hand for the purpose, and kept their arms around her back, easing the pull of her shoulders. The men-Bob and Paul-retained their hold on her ankles and supported some of her weight with their hands under her buttocks. She became slowly aware of a subdued but light-hearted conversation among the four and felt tempted to float in the atmosphere of their mood rather than acknowledge the stark reality of her sexual surrender.
But when the disorientation of her excitement had faded she realized that for some time Wayne had been stroking her body and her thighs. His hands caressed her with a soothing effect and without dwelling on erogenous zones, so the effect was a quieting, calming one. In a way, she thought, it was like an infinitely tender massage. And it contributed to her general sense of well-being and security.
It was curious that she could feel security under the circumstances, she reflected-or even think of the word. And yet she did feel that; she felt as if she were surrounded by attendants whose sole mission was her comfort and pleasure. No amount of effort could revive her tight-lipped score of impropriety at this moment nor her anger at Tracy's assumption that she and hers knew what was best for someone else.
She ought to be feeling light-headed and incoherent if those natural attitudes were blocked out, Millie told herself. But she didn't; she felt superbly alert and her senses were sharp and clear. If the absinthe was still dominating her it was acting on her nerves and her involuntary system, not at a conscious level. She had no trace of intoxication left, unless feeling good and ignoring the indignity and lewdness of her position could be called that. Certainly there was none of the disconnected sensation that she normally associated with being even a little bit drunk.
"Hey, Millie's about all relaxed," Wayne announced. And he smiled at her. "Baby, you recover about as fast as any broad I ever met!"
She grinned in spite of herself.
"All relaxed all right," commented Tracy. "Too much."
"Yeah." Bob's tone was teasing. "Too much, I'd say. Maybe she's getting ready to faint."
"Better get her head down," counseled Paul.
"Of course, of course!" Tracy and Frances acted together, easing their arms clear of Millie's back and working her arms off their shoulders. They lowered her head and shoulders until she hung by her legs in Bob's and Paul's grip, her head at mid-thigh level on them. Panicking momentarily, she seized their thighs with her arms and clung to them. But she felt no slippage in their grasp and knew that she was safe from falling. And an impish impulse leaped into her mind and overwhelmed the abortive surge of outrage that stirred to meet it.
Releasing their legs she caught each man's semi-erect penis in one of her hands like a handle. "Better not drop me," she warned with a laugh. She felt a twinge of horror at herself for such irreverence and then gladly accepted the giddy rush of abandon that replaced it.
The two thick organs hardened and swelled in her grasp and she squeezed speculatively, twisting her neck to see the effect of her bold action. Bob's thighs seemed to tighten and he held himself still. Paul jerked backward reflexively then steadied and thrust himself forward. And after a moment Bob's hips began to pump gently and she stroked her circled hand back and forth along the length of his shaft.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Wayne protested. "Hell, I do all the work and these two guys get the bonus!"
"Poor thing," cooed Millie. "My Goodness. He's being neglected." She let go of the two twitching instruments and clasped her hands.
The men placed their arms at her back and partially raised her. Betiding, they let her remove her legs from their shoulders and set her feet on the floor. She distrusted her knees and sank in front of the couch, curling her legs beneath her. Wayne flung himself on the couch before her and reached out to finger her hair.
"You're a good sport, Millie," he said softly. "You're our kind."
"No one's hurt me," she said. Then she added, " ... much, anyhow. Or been mean." She leaned against the cushions and startled herself by laying her hand on the livid bulk of Wayne's penis. "It feels left out," she murmured in confusion.
"Sure does!" replied Wayne. "But that makes him feel better. " There was a note of contentment in his voice.
She laughed self-consciously and stroked his penis with her open hand as if she were petting a kitten. There was a thin film of liquid on the underside of the head surrounding the slit, and when she put her fingertip to it and began to spread it she decided it felt like sewing machine oil-only maybe a tiny bit stickier. The bulges on each side of the slit were smooth and shiny, but further out on the surface of the head the skin looked pebbled and velvety. She bent closer to study it and shook off the annoying awareness that she'd never given any such attention to Tom's penis. She'd have to now; she'd have to find out if it was the same as Wayne's or not.
Wayne stretched, hands under head, and watched her curiously. But she ignored him and concentrated on his massive probe that might well wind up thrust into her before her weird adventure was over. I'd have thought, she reflected, that the slit ought to be at the very tip of the head. But there's a big blunt nose ahead of it and maybe that makes sense for doing the heavy work of leading the penis into the cavity. Millie explored the edge of his slit with her finger pad and found that mild pressure pulled the tiny mouth open to reveal a smooth-walled crater. And then she returned to drawing small, wet circles on the main knob of the head.
At the back of the bulb was a rib that ran around it, fluted and thick and hard, and then the sudden under-cut to the diameter of the shaft. The ridge was interrupted in line with the slit as if it were rolled out of a flat piece and joined there, and a taut fold of skin stretched back from there to the body of the shaft. Millie stroked the tight piece of skin and discovered that it felt as taut as it looked and was sensitive enough to make Wayne tense as she caressed it. She was engrossed in her exploration by now and forgot the humiliation she'd have felt normally at touching a man's penis.
She fingered the shaft gingerly and then closed her hand around it to feel it better. The side that lay against his belly felt like a bone encased in unattached skin, and she raised the organ to see what the top side was like. The underlying hardness was like a shell, she decided, ribbed and rough, with great veins lying between it and the covering skin. But it left a wide gap on the underside, and a great bulge protruded through the gap and pulsed strongly.
Millie's methodical exploring and touching produced an erratic flurry of twitches and jerks in the penis and she knew from the tightly controlled way Wayne breathed that her attentions were arousing his excitement. His thighs had tensed and quivered with the muscles standing out rigidly, and his belly was ridged with the intensity of his concentration. She stroked the length of his penis, still with her fingertips, starting at the head and sliding them through the slippery coating onto the shaft and continuing to the base. Each stroke brought an abrupt jerk to the heavy organ and made it stand away from his belly, and at the end of the stroke when she lifted her fingers the shaft fell back to lie on him again. But now there was an irregular flinching in the ridged muscle of the underside even when she wasn't touching him, and it reminded her of her own reflex tensings in the middle stages of excitement.
Wayne was thoroughly aroused, she told herself with a sudden sense of awareness. He was thoroughly aroused and full of a need for release. When she stopped playing with his penis he'd insist on discharging the pressure she'd helped build and she'd be the one he discharged it into. He might consent to repeating Bob's rectal entry or he might ignore her protests and plant the engorged shaft into her vagina where only Tom's belonged. But she could at least delay that choice if she could drive him into an orgasm by continuing to play with him! She had to try!
Millie again closed her fingers around the shaft and began to stroke gently up and down its length. With her other hand she started rubbing the velvet-textured surface of the head. Wayne's thigh tendons jumped at the new assault and his body twisted slowly. Hidden muscles in his scrotum pulled his testicles toward the base of his penis and his hips surged upward from the cushions. It might work, she thought. It just might work!
But it would take every skill she had to make him submit to hand-induced orgasm in front of his wife and friends. She was sure of that. She'd have to assume an aggressive role unlike anything she'd ever tried before and she'd have to carry it out without a chance to start over!
She goaded herself into a tender manner and bent forward with her breasts pressed against the front of the couch. She kissed Wayne's thigh and then his hip, letting her lips linger and even daring to touch his skin with the tip of her tongue. He flinched at the touch and laid his hand in her hair with a soft caress. She heard his grunt and made herself believe it was one of appreciation and excitement, and her stroking continued in its even, gently rhythm. Millie moved her mouth from spot to spot over the side of Wayne's body, then rose to her knees and let her breasts rest against him while she bent over and kissed his belly. It was strange and pleasurable to feel the fine hairs brushing her face and to press past them with her lips to his flesh. And it was delightfully different to pause at his navel and dart the tip of her tongue into it to explore its depression.
There was no doubt that she had him hooked for the moment. His fingers dug at her scalp and his other hand clenched at his side until the knuckles were white. He was breathing fast and muttering between set teeth in a monotonous tone. "Easy, baby ... easy there."
To her astonishment, her activity was affecting her at the same time as it did him. Her crotch tingled hotly and her own breath came raggedly and she couldn't help rubbing her nipples against his flesh. Millie's fingers tightened involuntarily on his penis from time to time and an occasional stroke was hard and sudden instead of even and gentle. She felt a powerful urge to climb onto the couch and press her belly to him while she stroked, but she knew that if she got herself into that kind of position it would be easy for him to twist her about until he could bury his hungry penis in her. Instead of yielding to her impulse Millie tightened her buttocks and thrust her groin forward against the bulge of the couch. She ground herself on the stiff upholstery and kissed with her Ups parted, her tongue scrubbing his wet skin and dragging at the hair that curled on it.
She liked it when Tom sucked at her, she reflected. Of course that was her nipples-or with Wayne, her clitoris and labia-but maybe Wayne would react to a sucking type kiss. So she began to suck at his flesh as she kissed and Wayne groaned softly and squirmed beneath her face. She shifted her position enough to enable her to stroke his penis with one hand and finger his testicles. They seemed to slip away from her touch as if they had their own way of moving, sliding past each other in the loose bag that held them and shrinking from her to bulge somewhere else. She was intrigued by their movement and worked her hand under Wayne's balls to cradle them in her palm, where they continued to jerk to the movements of her other hand on his penis.
Wayne caressed her at the small of her back and Millie jammed herself harder against the upholstery and undulated her hips. His fingers slipped downward onto her buttocks to knead them with a slow, demanding pressure, and she forgot herself and slid her knees apart to separate her thighs. He reached under the swell of her bottom and probed at the hollows beside her inner thigh tendons and Millie moaned softly as she nibbled at the flesh on his belly. He was making it hard to concentrate on what she was doing and he might even make her forget herself and clamber onto him!
As her own desire grew she stroked faster and squeezed harder on his penis and it darkened and swelled at the head. The slit was open now and Millie could look into its dark barrel at the muscle-lined interior. She struggled against her habitual inhibitions and brought her face close to Wayne's penis, extending her tongue hesitantly to the rim of Wayne's slit. Wayne's body stiffened and straightened and his hand stopped moving, as if she'd paralyzed him. She withdrew her tongue and rolled it in her mouth to analyze the taste of the drying fluid she'd disturbed. It was a flat, slightly metallic flavor that was a subtle imitation of the scent that now hovered over Wayne's crotch. It didn't make her feel nauseous and she was encouraged to repeat her action to regain the initiative that Wayne's groping fingers had wrested from her. But this time she wasn't hesitant. She touched the slit and explored its rim and then cautiously probed into the opening to feel the marvelous smoothness of the inner walls. Wayne bucked unashamedly at the probing and grunted loudly.
Millie paused and raised her head.
"Hurt, honey?" she asked solicitously.
"Naw! Christ, it feels good!"
"Oh." She lowered her head and probed again, and then she licked at the greater bulge of the head, itself, while her hand increased its tempo and force. The fingers between her labia moved erratically, tightening and relaxing without apparent direction, and she was able to repress the more violent reactions that her touch might have induced. But she had to admit that she was thoroughly excited and savage. She had a desire to bite and had to fight herself to keep from closing her teeth on the tempting knob that leaped in her hand.
She held the tortured shaft in a vertical position and battered the side of her palm against Wayne's pelvic arch at the bottom of each stroke, pounding him fiercely. But he made no protest. His hips bounced on the cushion and his legs spraddled to make room for the hand that cradled his testicles. He was panting loudly and groaning with pleasure and she was confident that she'd be able to make him come before he could think about pulling her onto him.
As his passion intensified Wayne began to roll from side to side and his hand clutched at her with increasing force. Millie stumbled to her feet, her bottom thrust upward and her knees stiff. Wayne thrust his fingers into the aching mouth of her vagina and pumped them, his thumb grubbing at the surrounding tissues and settling on the swelling of her clitoris. Her own excitement was reaching dangerous levels again, and when his other hand groped at her breasts and cupped one to massage it Millie gasped and stiffened. Her feet were thrust indecently far apart and her hips were gyrating wildly to the urging of the deep stabbing hand, but she doggedly beat on Wayne's penis and kept the tip of her tongue at the head. With the growing violence of Wayne's responses she had to steady herself to maintain contact and she pressed her open lips in a circle around the bulky slopes of his knob. She could no longer restrict her licking to the tip of her tongue, but she lapped hard with its broader upper surface and sensed a quick jump in Wayne's activity. Her hand now squeezed cruelly and she pounded as fast as she could. Releasing his testicles she closed her other hand around the shaft and jerked with both while his buttocks leaped from the cushion and fell back repeatedly.
It seemed brutal treatment and she wondered briefly if he'd be bruised or even seriously injured by the harsh handling. But if it caused pain he made no complaint; his hands worked harder at her and his body writhed and twisted, and exclamations of pleasure tumbled from his open lips.
Millie became aware of Tracy as the other came close and knelt at Wayne's head. The tawny woman's body caught the light in sensuous patterns over taut muscles and she leaned forward to hold her writhing husband's head in her arms, her breasts pressing against his neck and the top of his head. Then she bent her neck and groped at his mouth with hers and Millie saw their tongues sliding voraciously over each other.
Frances dropped beside Tracy and grinned at Millie. "Beautiful, doll! Keep it up!" She laid her hands on Wayne's body and pressed her face to his chest to suck at one of his dark nipples.
With the help she was getting Millie knew now Wayne would reach his orgasm without forcing himself into her, and she drew her head back and watched her own strenuous actions. Her hands grasped his shaft as she'd seen a man hold a digging bar and they slammed up and down its length. The skin of his penis slid with her hands, snapping viciously at the bottom of each stroke and making the head jerk. His testicles bounced against his crotch and appeared to slide from one end of his sac to the other with each of her strokes. His knees were drawn up like tents and flung widely apart, while his heels dug into the cushion and his toes splayed rigidly.
Suddenly she let go of his penis with one hand and thrust her fingers beneath his scrotum and into the crevice between his buttocks. She rubbed and probed, finding the tightly puckered ring of his anus and pressing at it. If that had excited her so terribly perhaps it would add to Wayne's lust; there was no reason to believe women were unique in their possession of erogenous nerves there. In a small way Millie could reverse the tables on her
"captors" while Wayne was helplessly immersed in his passion.
She reached to her own crotch and twisted her finger about in the goo that surrounded Wayne's buried hand, bringing it away dripping with the slippery fluid and returning it to his crack. Pressing and twisting the finger she forced its tip into the hard circle of his sphincter and drove it inward. His hips leaped convulsively and his buttocks clamped painfully on her hand, but she pushed harder and jerked more viciously at his penis. She managed to bury her entire finger in his gulping rectum and then started to jerk it back and forth in the same rhythm as she was using in stroking his penis. He bridged himself on the couch, his back arched and his buttocks well off the cushion, and swung his hips wildly from side to side. His penis swelled suddenly and startlingly and seemed to harden impossibly. And his entire body shook as if he had a savage fever.
Frances straightened and studied Millie with an astonished expression. "God, doll! What're you doing? He's going to...." She stopped and stared at the hand that disappeared beneath the surging scrotum. Her perplexity gave way to wise understanding a sort of admiration. "He's right there," she said softly. "He's going to come."
"Good." Millie grunted. Her breasts were leaping beneath her bent body and her hips were twisting fiercely around the pivot that Wayne's buried hand provided. She was standing on the balls of her feet, her knees straight and her legs achingly rigid. He had to come soon or she'd collapse!
"All over everything," Frances added. "A pity to waste it."
"Huh?" Millie was puzzled.
"Let me, doll." Frances turned her head sideward and thrust her face down toward the bobbing penis head. Opening her mouth widely, she took the purpled head into it and began to suck at it. Millie shuddered and pumped on it harder.
Wayne yelled in his throat and bucked aimlessly. There was a sudden pulsing at the base of his penis and a rhythmic squeezing that Millie knew was his semen spurting through the passage. She pounded wildly and Wayne fell back on her digging finger. His buttocks winked with each pulse of his penis and Millie saw Frances tremble and gulp with desperate swallows. Wayne kicked his feet out straight and lay in a state of total rigidity, groaning and choking, and Tracy covered his face and his throat with quick, passionate kisses.
At last he seemed to reach the end of his reservoir of jism and stopped winking his buttocks. He fell limply and exhaled with a moaning sigh, then went soft everywhere. Frances withdrew her lips from the head of his penis with a final sucking motion as if it were a lollipop, and Millie released the grip of her hand on it and tugged her other finger from his rectum. His arm had relaxed at the same time and his hand slowly slipped out of her vagina. She straightened and stared down at his exhausted body and his motionless face. He looked as if he were asleep or unconscious, except that he blew his breath out through pursed lips and then closed them to suck it back in through distended nostrils. But he finally opened his eyes and focused his gaze on her.
"Sonovabitch, baby! Got more'n I bargained for that time! You're a goddamn mink!"
CHAPTER SIX
Millie wondered briefly what would have happened if Tracy and Frances hadn't joined the exercise. But she knew intuitively that the major factors had been her manipulation of his penis and the experimental thrust into his rectum. She'd happened upon that reversal of roles by accident this time; if she needed to use it again she'd know its effectiveness!
She staggered away from the couch and sank into one of the armchairs. She didn't care about her nakedness; the things they'd done tonight were so shocking and lewd that being one of a group of nudes was meaningless. The most compelling fact of the evening was her certainty that the orgy was far from being over. She'd participate in more than one weird perversion before they left her alone in the house. And she'd do it without struggling because there was no way struggling could help her. Maybe the worst thing about it was not that she was letting things happen to her-and making herself do things to the others-that her carefully nurtured inhibitions would have prohibited under any other circumstances, but that each thing that happened was so terribly much fun!
Tracy and the others made that aspect of the experience doubly hard to deal with. If they'd make smutty remarks and tittered lewdly so everything would seem dirty and repulsive, it'd be easy to preserve an inner determination that this was to be a once-only, never-to-be-recalled violation of her decent scruples. But they didn't. They acted openly happy and excited by what they were doing and made no distinction between the "normal" things and the most unnatural ones. Every act that provided sexual stimulus seemed equally acceptable to them and their enthusiasm and easy cooperation suggested that they'd encountered nothing out of the ordinary.
That meant she'd have a hard time drawing a line between new kinds of activity she'd be willing to practice with Tom and the ones that were too far out to be repeated ever. She knew she'd make up rules in the dispassionate quiet of the day and then forget them in the heat of sexual play. And the awareness disturbed her without bringing the frightened reaction it should have. She felt as if something within her were accepting facts without judgment-as if an unfamiliar side of her nature were calmly assuming the guiding role her "conscience" had always filled.
But there was activity again and she abandoned her mental argument to watch it. Frances had lowered herself to the couch and lounged with her body half-draped over Wayne's, her fingers absently caressing his unresponding body. Tracy stood in the center of the room with Bob and Paul teasing them.
"You two haven't done much," she was saying.
Bob protested. "Haven't done much, for Christ's sake! Whaddya call that ride I had!"
"Buggering," replied Tracy lightly. "Poor girl had no way to protect herself. Might as well have been a knothole."
"Pretty lively for a knothole." Bob grumbled. "Keep it up, dear sister, and you'll wind up spinning on my dick, yourself."
"After watching all the excitement, it'd take more than that to unwind me," Tracy said with spirit., Bob grabbed for her and she let him catch her, flinging herself against him and scrubbing her belly against his. She bit at his neck and dug her nails into his buttocks until he yelled. But his hands moved quickly over her sinuous body and probed at soft spots until she writhed. They were a striking pair as they twisted together, Millie observed. Both had tawny skin, although Bob's was far darker than his sister's. And there was a strong resemblance in their builds. No one would have thought of Tracy as being even remotely masculine, of course, or of Bob as being feminine. But they had the same kind of grace and long-limbed agility and the same quick movements.
Paul chuckled at their wrestling and lazily thrust his hand between Tracy's thighs to clutch at the folds of her crotch. The woman stiffened and rose to her tiptoes, then dropped back and wallowed on the intruding hand.
"Maybe ... that'd do it ...!" She gasped. "I could handle an army right now, but the two of you might have what it'll take!"
The men exchanged a sharp, amused glanced over Tracy's head and grinned broadly.
"Think we might, baby sister?" mocked Bob. "Maybe."
"Well, wouldn't hurt to try."
"No." Paul sounded too grave. "Mustn't pass up a chance to prove our adequacy."
They turned Tracy between them, each slipping an arm between one of her arms and her body and around her back. And with their free hands they began to stroke her front with easy, teasing caresses. Tracy shut her eyes and tilted her head back with a happy smile.
"Mmm! That's a nice way to start," she murmured.
Bob rubbed his open hand in broad circles on her lower abdomen and Paul pushed first one of her breasts upward and then the other. He rolled each nipple gently between his fingers and coaxed them to a startling erection while Bob's fingers traced invisible but intricate patterns on Tracy's belly. She parted her feet widely and thrust them forward, leaning back on the support of the two arms and resting her hands on the men's shoulders. Her head rolled slowly from side to side, her hair swishing across her back so its ends swung into view first at one side and then the other.
Her skin was glowing with highlights as it glistened with a film of perspiration. Her flesh dipped inward below her lowest ribs and tapered to her slender waist. Her hips flared outward from there in a continuous line with her outstretched thighs, and her lower abdomen swelled delicately below the dark, elongated depression of her navel in a provocative bulge above the generous, reddish bush that covered her love mound. She must be quite excited, thought Millie, to judge from the fullness of the pink folds that were apparent where her pubic hair bristled in her crotch.
Bob's fingers wandered downward into the thicket of pubic hair and tugged at stray wisps of it. Tracy wiggled her hips and puffed softly between her lips, rising to her tiptoes then settling onto her heels time after time. The muscles in her belly seemed to crawl beneath her skin like snakes coiled in a basket and her chest began to heave with her labored breathing. She brought her head forward and peered quickly at each of the men.
"You guys better have it!" she warned. "You're turning me on!"
Bob chuckled wickedly. "Shit, baby! You'll beg for mercy!"
"Talk's cheap." Tracy hissed. "Save it for the senoritas! It's going to take something big and round and hard for me!"
Bob's fingers slipped over the fullness of Tracy's mound and curled inward to her clitoris. He pressed and rubbed rapidly and Tracy flung her head back and jerked her thighs together. Both men laughed. Bob withdrew his fingers and resumed the gender massage of the hair mound and Tracy again thrust her legs apart.
As if they'd planned it, each man hooked the back of his heel over one of her ankles, dragging her legs apart. They turned to face her sides and clamped their knees over her widespread thighs. Bob dipped his hand again to her clitoris and began to massage it with firm, circular strokes.
Tracy jerked violently and wrenched against the restraint of her legs, but she was helpless in the men's grasp and couldn't escape the persistent rubbing. She babbled brokenly and flung herself from side to side, but froze in quivering stillness when the two male heads were lowered to her breasts and two mouths seized her nipples and started to suck.
Millie rose shakily from her chair and went closer to see exactly what Paul and Bob were doing to the straining woman, her own crotch twitching with suppressed desire and her hands wet with the sweat of her palms. Tracy's belly drew back as she apparently tried to pull away from the intolerable stimulus at her crotch, then pushed outward like a full sail as she thrust it forward and ground herself on the pressing fingers. She moaned and cried out and her hips danced wildly. Paul's hand rubbed slowly down over her taut belly and past Bob's, and his fingers groped among the folds of Tracy's labia.
Millie saw that Bob and Paul were again exchanging glances. They released their hold on Tracy's legs and removed their hands from her crotch. Quickly, they dropped to the floor, carrying her with them and laying her on her back on the carpet. Each of them lay on his side facing her, propping himself on one elbow and pinning one of her outstretched arms to the floor. And each man again caught one of her legs and clamped it between his thighs. They began again at Tracy's breasts, massaging them and tweaking the puckered nipples with their fingers.
Tracy had lost little of her excitement during the maneuver as nearly as Millie could tell. She writhed and tossed in their grasp and her head rolled about in agitation. She used the leverage of her imprisoned legs to raise her hips, driving herself into the air and then dropping abruptly back to the carpet. Paul drew his head back and let his gaze wander fondly over Tracy's body. Millie felt a wave of tingling hunger as she stared at the long, swollen nipple and the coating of saliva that shone on the exposed breast. Her flesh was crimson from Paul's suction and the friction of his hours-old beard. And the light pink aureole mounded beneath her nipple, its surface studded with tiny bumps like "goose flesh".
Paul seized Tracy's thigh with his hand and relaxed the grip of his own legs. He pulled her knee upward along his body and clamped her thigh under his arm, then began to stroke the back of her leg. Tracy undulated her hips, her crotch spread until her labia gaped and the mouth of her vagina formed a yawning dark hole. Paul plucked at the distended folds of tissue and drew his fingers along the bottom of the gleaming trough, while Tracy twisted and bucked.
Bob glanced up from where he continued to suck at his sister's other nipple and took in the new scene. He raised his head and grinned joyously, reaching for Tracy's other leg. He pulled her knee up and held it as Paul was holding the right one, pressing so Tracy's thigh was lying against her belly and her side. The new position startled Millie, because it rotated Tracy's crotch so it pointed upward with the mouth of her vagina gaping like the top of a waiting cup. Her outer labia were thick, puffy rolls of flesh that lay against the taut ridges at the backs of her thighs, the meeting cushioned by a disordered mat of pubic hair; their inner surfaces smooth and dark red. Between them, spread like petals of a pithy tropical orchid, Tracy's inner labia formed lips for the trough that funneled to the gulping mouth of her vagina.
Both men teased the quivering tissues. They slid their fingers over the pulpy inner slopes of the outer labia while Tracy pumped her bottom desperately up and down. And they caressed the edges of the inner petals lightly and watched her thrash with desire. They traced the circular rim of the hungry mouth at the center of the flower and spread the thick mucous-like fluid that oozed from it. Bob passed his fingers downward to the tiny orifice of Tracy's rectum, teasing it as she tried unsuccessfully to pull her buttocks together and probing with his middle finger until the puckered sphincter began to relax. Paul worked his fingers forward to Tracy's clitoris and gently stroked its sides so Tracy lashed upward with her hips and cried out in delirious pleasure.
Bob's fingers forced the entry to Tracy's rectum, slipping inward to the knuckle while his hand twisted slowly and rotated back and forth. The girl shuddered violently at the penetration and then drove herself onto the thick digit. It seemed obvious to Millie that the experience was nothing new to Tracy-that it was one she knew thoroughly and enjoyed without fear. But when Bob twisted his hand to wet his index finger in the plentiful lubricant in Tracy's crotch and then forced that finger into her rectum beside the other, it shook Millie severely. She caught her breath and tightened her belly convulsively, her own rectum aching in sympathetic reaction.
Still, Tracy showed no sign of discomfort. Her movements grew wilder and her moans sounded intensely happy, with no trace of pain or reluctance for Bob to continue. He kept rotating his hand back and forth as his fingers slid in and out and Tracy's bottom surged powerfully with the motion. When his sister was pounding against his hand with complete abandon, Bob wet his ring finger and thrust it into her with the other two. Her flesh darkened and stretched to shiny tautness and she gave a low, guttural cry, but she still appeared to be in no discomfort.
Paul's fingers stripped back the hood of her clitoris and began to massage the stiff little organ in small circles. Tracy's tendons snapped and jerked and her belly wrinkled with her writhing. Her entire body was fluid with her seething reactions and her moans and gasps came in a chaotic jumble. Millie realized that Bob's little finger had joined the other three in Tracy's rectum and that he was very slowly forcing his hand inward. The knuckles disappeared and only his thumb remained outside in the incredibly stretched valley between her buttocks. And Tracy thrust herself onto the brutal hand and looked as if she were on the verge of coming.
She must have an unbelievable capacity for sexual stimulus, thought Millie in awe. She'd tolerated far more foreplay than Millie could imagine accepting, herself, and the intensity of the tawny woman's reactions was still growing. But surely there had to be a point where everything in her would reach a boil and plunge her into her orgasm! It just wasn't human for anyone to take what she was without a climax!
"Omigod, guys!" Tracy cried out. "I can't take any more! NOW, PLEASE!"
Bob's hand eased out of his sister and Paul stopped rolling her flaming clitoris and released her tightly pinioned arm and her leg. She uttered a great, gusty groan and scrambled onto her brother, straddling him as he fell onto his back and kneeling over him with her heels against her buttocks. Finding the head of his penis with the mouth of her vagina she plunged onto it until their pubic hair was matted together. Then she thrust her legs awkwardly backward and straightened them outside him. Paul surprised Millie by rolling to his knees and lowering himself over Tracy, where he laid the head of his penis between her fast-winking buttocks. As if she had waited for his approach, Tracy spread the cheeks and raised her bottom to him. He thrust down and forward and drove his penis into her rectum to the hilt. Tracy sighed and flattened herself on Bob, her mouth working at his shoulder and her hands groping at his sides. Sandwiched between the two men she surged and bucked, alternately tightening her buttocks and spreading them. And suddenly she raised her legs from the floor and clamped them together on top of Bob's.
She lifted her head and stared with bulging eyes at Wayne, her neck corded and her mouth wide as if she were silently screaming. There were great droplets of perspiration on her face and her body shook. A low, fierce moan undulated from her lips and its pulsing brought hard spasms to Millie's crotch. Tracy's orgasm was as heroic as her build-up, Millie conceded. When the woman did come, it was an awesome spectacle. Even with Paul's weight pressing her onto Bob and two bulging penises buried in her she ground her hips in slow, jerky circles while her contractions racked her. And the slow-motion drama went on and on as if it would never end.
At last Tracy dropped forward and her body began to go limp. Her legs slipped apart and lay outside Bob's and her hands slid away from his sides, her arms extending loosely. Her buttocks flattened beneath Paul and she laid her cheek on Bob's chest.
"Oh, my!" whispered the spent Tracy. "Oh, my!"
Bob grunted. "Had enough, baby sister?"
She nodded and squirmed. "For now." She was still whispering.
"Don't have to call the army?"
"Oh, Bob, for heaven's sake!"
Paul laughed. "What has it about cheap talk, Tracy?"
"You two guys would have talked all night. I got action, didn't I?" She squirmed again with a contented whimper.
"You lose a load?" Paul asked Bob.
"Naw. She blew off too fast." Bob snorted. "How about you, man?"
"Same here. Frances, how about gettin' it off for us?"
Frances smiled languorously and stretched. "Why not? Wayne, you want a piece of the fun, too?"
"Yeah, I'm ready after watching that last bit!" Millie listened aghast. If she understood the drift of the conversation Frances was blithely consenting to letting all three men use her simultaneously. Her assessment of Frances as the quieter of the two women would have to be drastically revised if that was true!
Frances rose lazily from the couch and stretched again. Her arms had the firm appearance of ancient feminine strength and her majestic breasts surged upward with her motion. Her belly was flat and flawless and the blue-black patch of hair at her groin was luxuriant. There was surprising power evident in her swelling thighs and her calves bunched and flexed easily. If appearance counted she could handle the three men without difficulty. Probably, Millie conceded with a twinge of envy, without even breathing hard!
Neither Paul nor Bob stirred until Wayne had slid to the floor and positioned himself with his back leaning against the cushions, his knees up and his feet well spread. Then Paul pulled his still-rigid penis out of Tracy's unprotesting bottom and rose. He straddled Wayne's hips and squatted, then reached down to brace his hands on the floor and lowered himself between the other man's thighs. Settled, he lay back and pushed his body firmly against the barricade of Wayne's buttocks. Frances surveyed the result and smiled.
"Very good," she said primly. "Ready?"
"Have at us." Paul growled affectionately.
His wife straddled the two men, her feet planted on either side of Wayne's hips, and bent to place her hands on his raised knees. She faced Paul and he reached up to touch her coned breasts.
"Nice," he murmured.
"Don't get greedy," Frances warned. "Those are for Bob this time."
Paul grunted and Frances lowered herself slowly while each of the two men held their penises upright beneath her descending body. She paused the moment she touched the two bulbs and waited while they positioned them, Paul's centered at the mouth of her vagina and Wayne's, lubricated by a handful of his own saliva, at her rectum. She closed her eyes and pressed down, her face reddening with her strain as the unyielding poles hung up momentarily at her portals. There was a sudden downward rush and she settled onto them. They plunged into her and she sat hard on the two adjacent groins, impaled and filled.
"Unh!" She grunted heavily. "Sometimes I'm not sure! "
"Pretty good for not getting any warm-up," commented Bob from beneath Tracy.
"Your turn," Frances replied. "Or you want to make it with Tracy?"
"Hell, she's limp!" he retorted. He rolled gently so Tracy slipped off him and onto the floor. He kissed her quickly and backed out of her, then got to his feet and joined Frances. "Boobs?" he asked her.
"What personal attention?" she asked in reply. "If you feel like getting squeezed, stick it in my armpit. You want attention, my boobs are hot."
He stood astride Paul's body and crouched, letting his penis lie between her ample breasts. Frances pressed her palms to the outer bulges and made her breasts close over the rigid shaft so only the head protruded. She bent her neck and sucked at the livid tip, then let it go and looked up at him. "You ready?" she asked.
"Mmm! I'm all yours, baby!"
She lowered her mouth to the head of his penis again and flexed her thighs. Millie watched breathlessly as the woman surged up and down on the two turgid masts. Her motions were deliberate and majestic, and as she slid up the shining shafts her breasts similarly slid up on Bob's. When she dropped back, Wayne's and Paul's shafts disappearing within her, her breasts rushed down the sides of Bob's imprisoned penis. But her lips clung to the bulb that thrust upward from the valley of her breasts and her cheeks dimpled with the suction she applied.
Wayne's hands clutched Frances's waist and Paul's clung to her trembling thighs. Bob buried his fingers in her hair, closing them into fists around great handfuls of her black coiffure. She shut her eyes and bounced sedately, letting her motion service all three of the men. And each of them registered total absorption in the sensations she produced. Gradually she speeded her rhythm and began to show excitement of her own. Her face reddened again and her fingers kneaded the sides of her breasts. She held herself erect in the exaggerated posture of a show-ring horseback rider, the small of her back curving in and her buttocks protruding boldly above Wayne.
Millie heard sharp grunts in different voices and the wheezing of rapid panting. She guessed that with the prior stimulation of Tracy's wild orgasm the four ought to reach their climaxes quickly. And suddenly she realized that Bob's had started. His buttocks winked rapidly and his legs shook. Frances swallowed hard and redoubled her sucking tempo, her hands leaving her breasts and closing on Bob's buttocks. With a deep groan Bob staggered back. Frances released his glistening penis head from her mouth and he crossed to a chair and collapsed into it. But Frances's pumping continued without interruption while she ran her tongue over her lips and swallowed again. Her expression was strained and her eyes opened and focused On the distance. She gripped Wayne's knees and her breasts jounced hard with each stroke of her body.
Millie cringed at the labored breathing of the three and their obvious concentration on inner churnings. Wayne looked closest to orgasm, but she had no way of knowing whether either Paul or Frances would display their emotions as openly as he.
Wayne groaned with the same tone of agonized pleasure she'd wrung from him on the couch and his hips pressed clear of the floor. She could see his buttocks squeezing as he emptied his semen into the still-surging Frances, and his fingers whitened from the force of his grip. He gritted his teeth and laid his head back on the couch cushion, his body going rigid, and then collapsed.
Frances had gasped deeply at the first inrush of Wayne's semen and she'd held her breath while he finished coming. But now she smiled shakily down at Paul and nodded. Her husband pushed his feet against the front of the couch and shoved his body backward. Frances rode him, pulling off Wayne's softening penis and leaning forward to lean with her hands on Paul's chest. When they were clear of Wayne, she began to pump again, her hips bouncing wildly and her breasts swinging crazily beneath her. Paul's hips drove upward to meet each of her downward thrusts and the muscles in his legs leaped.
Frances flung herself forward onto Paul's body and thrust her legs back with the same gesture as Tracy had used. She clutched at her husband and Paul seized her in his arms. Their mouths met and ground together and Frances' hips rotated in tight circles over Paul's upthrust groin. The two bodies stiffened and quieted and only a slow, powerful writhing of Frances's buttocks muscles betrayed the intensity of the contractions that were progressing in her belly.
The grinding slowed and then ceased and the two clung weakly to each other. Millie let her breath out in a long, shivering sigh and crept into the other armchair, huddling in its protective bulk with sparks of desire shooting through her body. What she'd seen had frightened her with its wantonness, but it had excited her, too. And the excitement had washed away the fright and left her in an agony of hunger.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Bob and Tracy recovered first. Tracy pushed herself to her feet and twisted from side to side to work her stiffness out and Bob unfolded himself from his chair and crossed to pat his sister's bottom. Tracy grinned impudently at him.
"I thought you'd be out for hours," she remarked.
He winced. "Hell, you ought to know better than that. After all the years you had to learn?"
"You're older."
"Know how to save a little, too."
"Oh."
Bob grinned at Millie. "Kid sisters get to be a pain in the ass if you let 'em. Gotta keep 'em in line."
Millie smiled doubtfully. Even Tom would be shocked at a brother-sister relationship, she thought. But she'd have to admit the two had made a striking picture together and did now. But Tracy had turned to study her.
"We're selfish, Bob," she murmured.
"Yeah?"
"Millie's getting cold."
Bob chuckled and leered at Millie. "Not the way I see. Looks hotter'n a firecracker to me!"
She was, too, Millie conceded silently to herself. And no matter how she crouched and hid the crawling of her flesh she couldn't hide the way her eyes must smolder or the lustful pout of her lips. Besides, she was ready to believe that Bob could read minds!
Tracy nodded. "He's right, isn't he Millie."
Bob interrupted. "Bet that pussy's so raw with wantin' she can't hardly stand it!"
Millie gasped and whimpered. The fact that she ached all over with the need of hot bulk in her vagina didn't alter the other fact that she'd do anything to preserve one act for Tom! And if Bob got the idea he ought to sink his penis there, she'd be powerless to fight him off. She shrank further into the chair and cast wildly about for a way to distract him from that notion.
But he studied her speculatively. "Might be time for a special treat, sis," he said.
Tracy shivered and flushed. "You really want to?" she asked Bob.
He nodded decidedly. "Like I said yesterday, she really needs something like that. Smashes hell outta inhibitions."
Wayne struggled to his feet and stumbled forward. "Man, you think it's the right time?"
Bob chuckled eagerly. "Like the best," he said softly. "Why don't you and Tracy get her set up?" Wayne touched his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Okay. C'mon, baby."
Bob left the room and disappeared, and Wayne and Tracy went into the dining room and brought back two of the chairs. They set them at the end of the great coffee table and used Wayne's and Bob's discarded neckties to lash the lower rung of each to one of the table legs. Millie watched in panic. The chairs were situated eighteen inches to two feet apart, their backs against the end of the table, and it was impossible for her to picture how they were to be used in whatever exercise they now meant to subject her to.
But Tracy came to her and held out her hands. "Come on, darling. This'll be fun, too."
"I'm scared!" whispered Millie. "Don't make me do anything more!"
"It's not going to hurt you," Tracy promised. "Come on." Her voice urged gently and Millie hesitantly put her hands in Tracy's and let herself be drawn to her feet.
Tracy led her to the coffee table and had her sit on the edge between the chairs. "Lie back," she commanded quietly.
Holding her thighs tightly pressed together Millie lay back on the table. Wayne took her right arm and Tracy her left, extending them beyond her head in spread-eagled position and binding the long scarves they'd used earlier to her wrists and then to the legs at the other end of the table. Working swiftly they lifted her legs and laid the backs of her knees over the tops of the chairs, her thighs deeply spread and her bottom resting on the very edge of the table. They slipped padding under her legs and tied loops around her knees and lashed them in place. Then they surveyed her helpless form with pleased expressions. But Tracy shivered again. "She's ready," she said quietly.
"Except for a warm-up," added Wayne.
He caressed Millie's thighs and rubbed her crotch with the flat of his hand. She was wet with the accumulation of fluid she'd started generating while she was making Wayne come on the couch. Wayne's hand slid in the thick coating and pressed between her tingling labia. He pressed her clitoris with the heel of his hand and tremors of delight spread through Millie's body. She panted and turned her head. Flat on her back with her arms so tightly stretched, her breasts were flattened on her chest and she could raise her head and see the soft radiance of her pubic thatch and the strained spread of her thighs. It was too late to plead for them to leave her vagina alone; the brief caresses Wayne was giving her had finished arousing her and not even her earlier-formed resolve could overcome the raging hunger of Millie's yawning vaginal mouth.
She heard sounds from the back of the house and realized that Bob hadn't returned yet. But both Wayne and Tracy were looking toward the dining room and Millie turned her gaze in that direction. She saw Bob's naked form in the shadow and then a dark bulk beside his legs. She stared in bewilderment for a moment before full recognition burst upon her.
"No! OH, GOD, NO!" she shrieked.
It was the great gray brute she'd watched mount the Sullivans' bitch in the street. It-HE! she thought wildly-padded at Bob's side, his tongue lolling from the side of his open jaws and his eyes darting as he glanced warily about the living room.
"DON'T LET HIM! PLEASE DON'T LET HIM!" she screamed in horror.
But Bob brought the dog to the gap between the chairs and stopped. "Smoke, meet Millie," Bob said. "Millie, meet Smoke. You'll like him!"
"No, no, no." She whispered.
Smoke cocked his head and stared at her across her body, then backed from between the chairs and came to her head. He sniffed briefly at her armpit and across her chest and on breast, then touched her cheek with his nose. He whimpered softly and gave her cheek and the lobe of her ear a quick, light lick, and in her inflamed imagination Millie read compassion and sympathy into his worried expression. She wriggled and laughed.
"Silly dog," she said tenderly.
Smoke wagged his tail wildly and his lips drew back in a pleased smile. He sniffed at her again and she knew the men's dried saliva on her breasts would make him pause. He touched one nipple experimentally with his tongue and then licked the sensitive tissue thoughtfully. Millie flinched and squealed at the gentle caresses. As she twisted with unexpected pleasure, Smoke lapped harder and then moved his attention to her other breast. Looking at herself, Millie saw her nipples stiffen and pucker. She let her head fall back to the surface of the table and crooned at Smoke. He was sweet, she thought; he was sweet and thoughtful.
He sniffed at the rest of her chest and then at her belly and the brief could touches sent thrills of excitement through her and made her writhe and gasp. His nose reached her pubic hair as he leaned over her and Millie sensed a keener interest and a sudden tension in the dog's manner. He quivered and gave a low whine.
Bob snapped his fingers and Smoke padded obediently to his side.
Raising her head again, Millie watched Smoke step between the chairs and extend his muzzle toward her exposed, fluid-coated crotch. She tensed and held her breath as she waited for the feel of his nose. When the first touch came, cold and fleeting, she gave an explosive grunt of shock and her body leaped Involuntarily. Smoke touched her with his tongue, then began systematically to lick away the juice. The sensation was like nothing she'd experienced. It had no resemblance to the tonguing Wayne had given her; the dog's tongue seemed infinitely more flexible and conformed to her contours instead of reshaping them. And it was far more searching and lingering. It moved slowly and steadily along the inner slope of one labia from back to front and then started at the back of the other.
When both labia felt as if they'd been licked raw and Millie was babbling incoherently in the grip of uncontrollably wild excitement, her body arching and writhing, Smoke sniffed out a trickle of juice in the crack between her buttocks and thoroughly cleaned it away. His tongue's probing at her rectum drove her wild before he was satisfied. And then he hesitated.
"Clit, boy," said Bob softly.
On cue, Smoke touched the grooves on either side of Millie's clitoris with his tongue. With maddening deliberation he stripped the grooves and slopes of their coating and then pressed in to lap at the body of her clitoris with the tip of his tongue. Millie flung herself from side to side and wrenched violently at her wrist lashings, looking down to see her breasts jerking insanely and her belly alternately bulging and disappearing from her view.
"Good boy. Good, Smoke. Lick cunt," Bob commanded.
The dog abandoned her clitoris and Millie sobbed with relief. The broad tongue applied itself to her inner labia and a new level of excitement shook her. But the smaller petals were soon cleaned and the tongue scoured the rim of her vaginal opening. Millie uttered a huge, guttural gasp when the tongue dipped inside the rim and began to probe at the walls of her vagina. And she cried out wildly as it went deeper and deeper. Smoke's muzzle pressed bluntly against the rim of her vagina and his tongue to the back of her barrel, scooping at the back wall and then methodically exploring every fold in the side walls.
Millie awkwardly raised her head again and gaze at Smoke. She could see his broad-shouldered form framed in the vee of her corded thighs, his coat a dusky gray beyond the creamy gleam of her skin. His shoulders were hunched and his head was lowered and thrust forward. Over the ashen halo of her pubic brush the ridge of the dog's forehead was almost black. His eyes were closed and she imagined Smoke's expression was one of bliss. She saw the sides of his neck working as if swallowing the juices he was extracting from her. But the picture blurred in the intensity of the pleasure that his probing gave her, and Millie felt a series of light contractions travel inward along her vaginal barrel.
She was coming! She was in the middle of a miniature orgasm! She bore down on Smoke's tongue, squeezing at it with the mouth of her vagina, and trembled. And as she did Smoke seemed to reach the end of the available fluid. He drew his tongue back to the mouth of her vagina and licked with tiny, tentative strokes while her excitement broke past the minor orgasm stage and rose to dizzying heights.
Bob's voice came softly. "Mount, boy ... Mount."
Millie jerked her head up to stare. "No-no-no!" she whispered knowing that neither Bob nor the dog would hear her. She saw Smoke back a step away and realized that his body was humped and working. He opened his eyes and stared at her for a moment, then came back to her. Rearing, Smoke placed his paws briefly on Millie's love mound and gazed down into her eyes. His hindquarters sidled ahead and she saw the long, red, pointed curve of his penis dangling beneath his belly. She shuddered as he shifted his weight and repositioned his forepaws carefully on the tabletop on either side of her hips. The bristles of his legs rested hard against the upper sides of her thighs and she felt a tapping, probing point on the surfaces of her labia.
Smoke's jaws hung open and his tongue lolled in a huge grin as his hips jerked. She felt the tip of his penis dance over her crotch in an aimless search and began to suspect he'd never find the hole. But the slopes of her labia acted as the walls of a funnel and guided the restless tool ever closer to the center. At last Millie felt it snuggle into the depression at the mouth of her vagina and saw an instant change in Smoke's movements. Instead of the short quick jabs, the dog's hindquarters began to sweep forward with determined lunges. His penis was as big as any of the men's. It bored inward, filling Millie's barrel and sliding smoothly through her quivering rim. But there was a length that felt totally new to her. Smoke thrust to the end of her barrel and continued to drive forward. She ground her teeth and stared wildly at him as he lunged, knowing that she must be stretching to accept his full length. And suddenly the bristles of his belly stabbed her tenderest tissues and his belly flattened them. He pumped slowly and evenly inward and outward. There was a strange sensation just inside the mouth of her vagina of rapidly growing pressure, as if she were being blown up like a balloon.
"What's ... happening?" she cried to Bob. "Bob, I'm blowing up!"
"Dog knot, baby. Big bulb at the lower end of his cock. Swells maybe this big after he's got his pecker all the way in." Bob held up both fists pressed together.
Millie gasped and groaned. There was no mistaking the pressure now. The knot had swelled larger than Bob's illustration, she was certain, and it was lodged inside the ring of her pelvic structure. Smoke pumped at her and stiffened his hind legs and she found herself suspended on his penis, her buttocks and lower back clear of the tabletop. Staring between his forelegs and beneath his heaving chest she could see the flesh of her belly moving as the head of his penis slid back and forth inside her. Waves of sour heat washed through her and her body flamed with eager pleasure.
She was being had ... she was mating, an incredible penis lodged in her vagina ... but in one sense without violating the trust she held for Tom. In a way it was different with it being an animal than it would have been with a man. And the pleasure was so intense she couldn't resent the way she was being used. She could only arch and buck and whisper encouragement to the hulk that lunged against her. Smoke's belly battered her crotch and felt as if it were crushing her clitoris. Her throat grew dry and ached with her fevered hunger and her muscles strained to drive her into Smoke's thrusts.
She felt a touch at her ankle and struggled to see. Tracy was untying Millie's knee, her other hand resting on the ankle, and on the other side Bob was loosening the other knee. Freed, Millie's knees drew back to tilt her crotch upward toward Smoke's bristles and then clamped against his jerking sides. She raised her lower legs and locked her ankles together above his back. She squeezed lightly, thrilling to the way his rough coat scratched as it surged back and forth over the inner surfaces of her thighs. And Tracy and Bob came to the other end of the table and released her wrists.
Millie buried her hands in the thick coat on Smoke's shoulders and pulled herself up until she could rub her breasts in the shaggy hair that hung down the fronts of his forelegs. She sagged back, still clutching his ruff, and elevated herself at her hips, pressing onto the magnificent organ that impaled her. Excitement and delight grew in her until she felt she was floating in a sea of pleasure. Her head roared and she could see nothing but Smoke's grin and his plunging hips. The rhythmic pounding at her crotch and the endless stroking in her belly filled the world and blotted out every thought but that of the mating.
She loved the splendid brute, Millie told herself through dry, parted lips. She wasn't a civilized, cultured woman or even a primitive savage; she was simply the frenzied, adoring mate of this all-powerful male animal skewering her. She hung from him without the power to wrench herself loose if she would, and she wished only for the monstrous fullness to go on forever. She stared unblinkingly at Smoke's surging body and hers because she wanted to memorize every detail of the wildly impossible scene.
Her thighs looked whiter and smoother as they half buried themselves in the roughness of the dog's dark, unkempt coat. Her hips flared deliciously under his belly and Millie's own pale belly was marked with the deep creases of its curled position. Her breasts were now full again with her arms no longer stretched beyond her head and a thin string of saliva hung from Smoke's tongue and collected in the valley between her mounds. Her arms quivered as she clung to the dog's shoulders and the fine down of near-invisible hair that covered them shimmered whitely in contrast to the steel-grey hue of his hair. She slid her arms upward and clasped her fingers together at the back of Smoke's neck, pulling herself against him again. And when he touched her face with his tongue she parted her lips and sucked his tongue into her mouth in a frenzy of wanting to belong to him without a trace of reserve.
The tempo of Smoke's lunges continued to increase until he beat at her crotch with a trip-hammer cadence impossible for any human to have approached. The blows followed each other so fast she gave up all hope of matching them with the undulations of her hips and simply pressed upward to receive them. Wild, buzzing heat burned at Millie's crotch and filled her belly and welled through her in overpowering waves. She felt her belly knot and contract and a fierce tremor seized her body. She moaned continuously in a half-human, half-animal yell of sheer enjoyment and abandoned herself to the thrill of coming on Smoke's huge prod.
She sensed the sudden shiver that swept over him and felt a sudden pulse of swelling travel from the base of his penis to its tip. A new warmth seeped into her vagina to heat its walls and she knew Smoke was joining her with his own orgasm.
The knowledge intensified her climax and prolonged it and she watched wide-eyed as the dog's tremors shook his head and his ruff. His lunges had stopped and his belly pushed hard against her crotch while his hindquarters trembled in rigid immobility.
When she thought she must faint from the length of her climax it broke and released her tension. But there was no sign of a lessening in Smoke's ecstatic stiffness or in the continuing seepage of heat into her core from his penis. The unceasing warmth kept her hovering just below orgasm level instead of letting her complete her relaxation and again and again she surged to another flurry of climactic frenzy.
Tom's orgasms lasted for a second or two or three. There had been times when she had hung in the throes of a climax for as long as ten or fifteen seconds. But this one of Smoke's was interminable! Panic welled into her throat and she cried out with it.
"Bob! BOB! ... For God's sake, he's coming forever!"
"They do, baby," Bob replied gently. "No spurting. Just ooze it in. Five or ten minutes."
"Omigod!" She whispered with horror. But it wasn't hurting; she'd dreamed in the early days of her marriage to Tom of orgasms that never stopped and awakened wishing dreams could come true. Now she could taste the reality.
She hugged Smoke and clasped her legs tighter about him and revelled in the ecstasy of her own intermittent flights into orgasmic tremors. Smoke's tongue dipped urgently to Millie's lips and she opened her mouth wide and let him explore her tongue and the insides of her cheeks and the back of her throat. She pulled herself up to bury her breasts in his coat and scrub her belly against his. And she deliberately loosened the grip of her legs to experience the shattering novelty of hanging by her pelvic ring from the root of his penis.
When she had hovered on the borderline of orgasm so long that she was drifting in and out of consciousness she at last felt Smoke's intense trembling fade and his rigidity subside. She sighed deeply with relief and waited for him to dismount from her. But the enormous pressure inside her vagina failed to ease. And when Smoke started to back away from her she felt herself pulled with him. Her shoulders slid across the tabletop and she twisted to clear the edge as Smoke lowered his forepaws to the floor. He gazed down at her face with a perplexed expression and backed away from the chairs into the center of the room. For a moment she spread her legs, her feet pointed toward the ceiling, and let herself dangle by her vagina from his penis. But Smoke whimpered with pain and Millie again clamped her thighs to his sides and locked her ankles over his back, bending her knees to cling to him and relieve the tension of her weight on his spent organ.
He continued to back in circles, dragging her on her shoulders. And she continued to cling to him with her legs and wonder how long it would take for his massive erection to soften and shrink. If she'd given herself to him like a bitch with her bottom up to his thrusts and her hands and feet on the ground, she reflected distractedly, there'd be no way to relieve the load on his tortured penis now. She'd hang from him and try to take up her weight with her legs and hands while he went about his frantic efforts to free himself.
He surprised her by walking forward, stepping over her chest with one forepaw so that she twisted sideward helplessly. His pace quickened and the twisting broke the grip of her feet. Smoke grew agitated and Millie's legs fell away from his sides. Clumsily he raised one hind leg and twisted to get it over her legs. To her utter horror she found herself behind him with his penis bent impossibly backward and still solidly bound up within her. But the force of the bending raised his hindquarters into the air and his hind feet from the floor. He scrambled and kicked and she grabbed the upper part of his legs and pulled herself forward, curling her body until her angle let his feet once more support his weight-and part of hers. And she twisted until she could again wrap her legs around him and pulled her crotch tightly to his belly.
With the pain gone Smoke calmed and merely walked slowly about the room dragging her behind him. His hind legs straddled her hips awkwardly and made his body swing from side to side with each step, but from her glimpses of his face when he turned to study her she began to believe that he was enjoying the situation hugely. She giggled to herself at the ludicrous picture she must make with the great dog, and the giggle turned to hysterical laughter. Smoke paused and stared back at her again and then apparently decided to give in to his exhaustion. He sank to the floor, flopping on his side with her legs still firmly locked around him, and began to lick at the taut rim of her vagina and the tiny length of exposed penis.
The strokes of his tongue were deliberate and cautious, but they were applied to flesh that was sensitized beyond the limits of feminine endurance and Millie groaned and tried to cover herself with her hand. To block Smoke's tongue from her tissues she had to encircle the base of his penis with her fingers and he shoved rudely with his muzzle to dislodge her grip. But while they struggled she felt the enormous bulge inside her vagina beginning to diminish. And in another moment the still-full-length penis slid out of her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Millie sighed with gratitude at the end of her bizarre ordeal and sympathy for Smoke's unnerving experience. She swung her leg off him and rolled onto her back in a state of helpless exhaustion. His weight pinned her other leg and there was no reserve of strength in her to free it; she could only wait for her energy to recover.
Smoke curled between her thighs with his forequarters and began quietly to clean her crotch, his tongue lapping at his own semen as it oozed from her vagina. Millie raised her free thigh and tucked her heel against her buttocks, letting the knee fall outward while Smoke's tongue penetrated the mouth of her vagina and scooped out the proof of their mating.
By the time he had finished and withdrawn his fantastic tongue, Millie was alert and had the strength to extract her trapped leg from beneath the dog. He now turned his attention to his penis, which lay at full length, limp but nearly as long as his leg, on the carpet. She peered closely at its base and saw that even now the "dog knot" was clearly visible as a football-shaped enlargement of the shaft. And then a wave of tenderness toward the brute swept over her and she curled herself around his back and laid her arm over his shoulders in a quiet, comradely embrace.
Smoke had no thought processes to analyze the situation, she reflected. He had canine instincts and could display anger or affection or protection stubbornness. But he had no way to judge right and wrong except by what gave him pleasure or pain. Eating was essential to his survival, and, as it gave him and his kind pleasure the species had adapted and survived. Mating also gave pleasure and that fact had insured reproduction of the race. But the pleasure was natural and unreasoned in dogs; there could be no connection in their limited intellects between that intense joy and some much later appearance of a litter. Any exercise that produced sexual stimulation in them was pleasurable and therefore right. And they were built to respond with pleasure-seeking reactions to their environment.
That fact was the key to survival for dogs and for all other non-intelligent creatures, she thought. In the childhood of the human race it must have been the guiding law for it, as well. Only when the race reached a level of security that freed individuals to imagine and to invent would Man have thrust that natural law away and substituted taboos and commandments for it. Only when he could devote himself to his dreams and the feverish twistings of his imagination could he have turned his back on the natural obligation to survive by pleasure-gratification and choose ritualized pleasure-denial instead. But when Man did reach that stage in his development he had instituted social order and the rule of individual conduct and thought by social edict. And he had the inherent mental capacity to absorb instruction and fashion personal inhibitions to reinforce cultural dictum.
Millie felt more alive than she could remember ever having felt. There were aches and stiffness in some of her muscles and joints but her whole being tingled with repressed excitement and a sense of eagerness. Still, she could use rest. "A little bit," she replied.
"It's after two. Let's get some sleep."
They were really going to stay, then. They were going to stay here in her house and Tom's and keep her a prisoner and continue in the morning to exercise their sexual desires with her. Millie knew she ought to be furious, but the night was so unbelievable that she wasn't. Nor was she frightened. A glow of goodwill pervaded the atmosphere and she wasn't going to disturb it.
"All three guest rooms are ready," she said. "They're upstairs."
So was the master bedroom and she calmly led the way. Bob took one of the front rooms and Paul and Frances the other. Wayne and Tracy were left the larger room in the southeast comer. But Bob paused before leaving the hall.
"Smoke will sleep in your room, baby," he said to Millie.
"There's plenty of space in your room!" She protested.
"Yeah, but we don't want you sleepwalking. You might get lost."
"Might run away, you mean." Even now she was more amused than irked by her captivity. "You sure you can trust me not to climb out a window or scream for help?"
Bob laughed. "Tracy says not to worry about that."
Tracy would know, of course. It was a long drop from the second story windows to the ground. Maybe she could do something heroic like tie sheets together and slide down them, but she knew she wouldn't trust her tired muscles that far tonight. As for screaming for help, the northeast comer of Cowle House burrowed into the dense foliage of the spruces. She and Tom didn't even have blinds at the windows, and a scream would lose itself in the woods.
"You still don't have to put the dog in there. Let him sleep in the hall." Why in the room? she thought.
"No. He's used to being near someone at night. If he couldn't hear the breathing he'd probably have insomnia."
"Oh, for heaven's sake! All right!" She bent and scratched Smoke's head. "Come on, baby. Mommie'll take care of you."
She went into the master bedroom and Smoke padded in behind her. He flopped at the foot of the bed and she showered and climbed gratefully between the covers.
She awakened to find the room filled with morning light. The night had been one of the rare summer kind that come to the high Rockies in late August, where the darkness brings a pause in the wind and the heat soaked up from the sun during the day rises and fills a valley. Even the sheet felt sticky this morning and she flung it off and stretched, letting the still air dry her skin and bring life to her extremities. She heard a stirring at the foot of the bed and remembered Smoke as she listened to the pad of his footsteps coming around to the side of the bed.
Bubbling with a curious sort of lightheartedness, Millie scooted to the bed's edge and gathered the dog's upstretched head in her arms. He whined and wiggled his entire body in affection, jerking at her restraint and lapping at her with his tongue. Overcome by exuberance at her laughing greeting, Smoke heaved himself up to plant his forepaws on the side of the mattress and nuzzled recklessly at her. Millie pushed his nose away from her breasts and he thrust its cold wetness into the pit of her belly. She shoved it quickly away from there only to have Smoke poke it into the hollow where her thighs met. Squealing with exasperation and playful indignation she pushed him back. But he sensed her mood and drove in again, only to be repulsed and return more eagerly.
"Oh, all right, pig!" she exclaimed. "But just a sniff!" She fell back and let him sniff at her crotch while she resisted the temptation to flinch.
Smoke's tongue came out a fraction of an inch and probed at the tiny mound of pink flesh that showed through the crown of pubic hair. A jolt of excitement struck her and she laughed again in delight.
"You've just got to taste, haven't you! Well, I suppose it won't hurt for a minute."
Turning herself on the bed she swung her legs over the side and let her feet hang toward the floor, her bottom at the edge of the mattress and her thighs widely parted. The weight of her unsupported legs arched her back deliciously and she held her breath while Smoke made his first exploratory licks. He settled into a determined assault without hesitation and the intimate wet caresses inflamed her before she recognized what was happening. As he struggled to probe deeper with his tongue she reflexively raised her knees and pulled them against her chest with her hands, her crotch turned up to open her to his tongue's thrusts. The dog lapped vigorously and thoroughly at the fully exposed surfaces. Millie tossed her head and moaned softly with the hunger he aroused in her, and she let go of her knees and seized the backs of her thighs and thrust her feet upward to kick at the air.
She felt her thigh tendons leap with her motion and saw her breasts jounce. Smoke's tongue flicked in and out of her gaping vaginal mouth and her body began to roll from side to side. She felt herself slipping down the tilted surface of the mattress and uncoiled herself just as she fell from the bed. She scrambled to her hands and knees and then paused as Smoke's muzzle nudged the inside of her left thigh. It was primitive and unnatural, in a sense, but it would be fun for a moment to pretend. She crouched, elevating her rump, and spread her knees for Smoke. He sniffed at her throbbing tissues and she turned and felt for his penis with one hand. She found it sheathed, but even as she touched it, the tip slid into the open and began to harden.
Smoke lapped at her and his tongue plunged into her vagina without hesitation. Millie moaned helplessly and quivered at the deep-surging sensation of desire. Dropping to her elbows to thrust her crotch even further into the open for him, she gave herself to the giddy delight of his demanding mouth. A sudden wildness seized her and she pivoted toward him and caught hold of his now fully extended penis. She pulled it sideward and pressed it to her lips. With a shudder of residual inhibition she timidly licked it and thrilled to the abrupt upward thrust of the dog's middle. He humped and shook while she played with his tender staff and she closed her fingers around it with awe at its thickness and length.
With a sudden whine Smoke jerked free and danced to her rear. She felt his paws between her calves and scrambled forward, but he was upon her before she could move toward rising. His chest bore down on her rump and his forepaws clasped her waist in a tight grip while the point of his penis jigged over the raw surfaces of her upturned vulva. Her thoughts were chaotic as she felt his spasmodic thrusts and yielded to the tugging of his forepaws. She'd let his penis stick just a little way into her and then she'd drop to her belly until he backed off. She wouldn't mate with him this way but she'd wait long enough for that first tentative penetration before she refused. That way she'd be able to pretend in some fantasy someday.
The insistent tip danced inward along her slopes and came to a momentary rest in her opening. She drew a deep breath and braced herself, digging her toes into the carpet and raising her knees to elevate herself. Her elbows rested on the floor and her breasts hung like inverted cones. She noticed motion at one side and glanced across to see that her image and Smoke's were fully visible in the mirror on the dressing room door, five feet away. As if the sight had hypnotized her Millie continued to stare at it. Nothing in her imagination or in the face-on views she'd had could have prepared her for what she now saw.
She knew how good her figure was and was proud of it. But she'd never looked at it in this position and might never have done so. Her thighs tapered gracefully and her rump rode high and fully curved. The line of her back was a smooth, deep curve as she let it sag in the middle, and her chest was so close to the floor that her nipples almost reached the carpet. She was a slender woman but not a thin one, nor was she extremely short. But in this position the length of her lower legs didn't count and she looked the size of one of the bigger bitches Smoke had undoubtedly mounted during his varied career. His torso was thicker than hers in this view and his deep chest made her buttocks look almost delicate. His forepaws appeared to be as thick as her upper arms and they clasped her waist firmly. His hindquarters were stockier than her thighs and, as he towered over her upturned rump, he made her look fragile and ready to topple. There was a significant gap between his belly and her backside and Millie could see not only his penis but part of her swollen genitalia in the mirror. The dog's penis was fully stiff now and as straight as an axe handle.
But it was a terrifying organ seen this way. The backs of her thighs curved inward at the top, just before the backward swell of her buttocks, and it was at that dip that the puffy tissues of her vulva protruded. They were pink through the shimmering straw color of her pubic hairs and the mast that was Smoke's penis extended like a horizontal log between his taut sheath and that handful of pulpy flesh. It was a mottled red and white and it shone with the peculiar gleam of stretched mucous tissue. But the terrifying thing about it was that the tip was already hidden, couched in the eager ring of her vaginal mouth and yet there was nearly a foot of meat visible, as thick as her wrist. And the "dog knot" was free of the sheath and was even thicker.
In the seconds that Millie spent on that examination Smoke thrust his hips forward and tugged backward at her waist with his forepaws. She felt a delicious stretching and sliding and a marvelous fullness in the first part of her vagina as inches of the gigantic pole slipped from sight among those soft tissues, Millie trembled and surged backward as Smoke's rump thrust forward again. The breathtaking sensation of sliding friction in the mouth of her vagina came once more and another four inches of the great cylinder drove inward. She could feel the tip hard against the inner end of her vaginal barrel now and Smoke began to pump with gentle urgency. Her inner tissues stretched before his pressure and an inch at a time of the remaining portion of his shaft eased inward past her darkening labia. She grunted and pushed while Smoke continued to thrust. She watched the knot reach her flesh and push it aside and the sensations in her crotch intensified as the swelling forced its way through her protesting ring. Finally she saw the sheath press into her soft flesh and felt the bristles that covered it jabbing into her tender skin.
Millie tossed her hips in a delirium of pleasure while Smoke shuffled his hind feet forward and rested his belly against her bottom. He humped rhythmically and she braced herself to accept the force of the impacts. The sensation of mounting pressure against the inner surfaces of her pelvic circle came again, startling her in spite of her memory of the night before. And suddenly she gasped and gave a low cry of consternation. She'd meant to drop away from him before he got his penis all the way into her! She hadn't meant to wait this long!
She shoved her feet back and out, but her rump remained tightly pressed to Smoke's belly. She was too late! She bit her lip and drew her knees back into position. She was too late to escape his imperious organ and the long minutes of build-up and the longer, agonizing minutes of hanging to him while his oozing orgasm ran its course! And she braced herself as her breath caught in a dry sob of frustration and fear. She couldn't do anything now but respond to the dog's thrusts. She couldn't do anything but revert to that dim time in Man's past when he let himself be guided by what was pleasurable.
There was that. No matter what her civilized inhibitions told her about mating with a shaggy-coated beast, it was pleasurable. His penis filled her vagina and distended it as Tom's would never be able to do. And it was fun-utterly degrading, perhaps, but fun-to feel Smoke's prickly belly rubbing in the valley of her rump and the urgent pressure of his forepaws against the tops of her hip bones and the hot puffs of his panting on her back. And it was fun to thrust herself up onto that gut-displacing club and feel her softest tissues-her sacred folds of love-her most secret and most private parts-skewered on his brutal penis and gouged by the stiff bristles that grew on his sheath.
With his shaft fully imbedded in her and securely locked in by the fatal knot, Millie no longer needed to tilt her crotch up to him so sharply. She rose from her elbows to her hands and bucked backward, taking care only to continue letting the small of her back sag in a swaybacked posture. Smoke appeared to enjoy his mount immeasurably more than he had the previous night.
In the mirror she saw a huge grin of appreciation on his muzzle. And he swept her body back and forth in the grip of his forepaws so that she moved as fast and as much as his own hammering rump did. There could be no such thing as dignity in this situation, Millie decided breathlessly. Her body flailed and she had difficulty keeping her knees in one spot. Her hair flew and her breasts swung and leaped madly beneath her. But every flogging movement added its share to the mounting excitement that burned in her and helped her lose herself in the fun of the moment. Smoke was knocking the wind out of her with the force of his blows and she had to get her breath in great, sucking gasps. The bulk of his penis displaced her internal organs and pressed them together and reminded her to her dismay that she'd given herself to him without even going to the bathroom first. But each discomfort that she discovered contributed its share to her sense of violating artificial rules and embracing a creed of fun for its own sake.
Smoke's tempo rose to the incredible flurry she'd doubted the night before, and she saw by reflection that the movement of his rump-and of her own-had decreased to less than an inch of backward and forward travel. But the speed was faster than she could begin to count and had to be at least ten strokes every second. It was more vibration than stroking and generated an intense buzzing in her core that spread to every fiber of her being. Her belly knotted and churned and she knew she was on the verge of coming. She thrust her knees apart and they dropped her body so it dangled from the dog's penis. His forepaws released her waist and struck downward to the floor. His forelegs braced and his rump continued its wild vibration.
When Millie's first climactic contraction closed on Smoke's knot she stabbed her legs out and up behind them. Her arms trembled but held her, and she watched herself in the mirror as she parodied the childhood wheelbarrow stance. Her body became a graceful arch from shoulders to toe-tips and her thighs clamped fiercely on the outsides of Smoke's flanks. The most violent contractions of her orgasm spent themselves and subsided and she brought her shaking legs back down and got her knees under herself again. Bracing them and pushing upward, she raised Smoke's forequarters so the dog could rest his chest on her rump and wrap his forepaws around her waist. The vibration of his hips grew more intense and rekindled her climax. And then he slammed himself forward against her and grew rock-still while his fluid began to flow thickly through his long passage into her.
Millie was ready for the long wait this morning, but being ready did nothing to make it seem shorter or to reduce the pitch of excitement. As she had the night before, she came again and again. And she grew faint and giddy and unsure of who she was-or what.
When Smoke finished coming and tried to free himself she spread her knees and lowered herself until his forepaws were on the floor. And then she arched herself deeply and scissored her legs around his body, clasping her hands at the small of her back and letting her upper torso rest on her breasts.
Smoke humped and shook himself and Millie shook beneath him. But she kept her ankles locked and her legs straight and rigid and waited. He walked clumsily forward and her body lost its arch and doubled so she rested on her shoulders and the back of her head between his hind feet, but the scissor-grip of her legs continued to sustain enough of her weight to make the tug at her insides tolerable.
As if he recalled the end of the same situation from the previous night, Smoke flopped to the floor and waited. His penis responded gradually to the release of pressure and began to shrink. Millie squirmed as it slid reluctantly out of her and left her empty. And then she rolled over and positioned herself with her thighs widespread and her crotch before Smoke's nose. While he cleaned her tissues and removed his traces from inside her vagina she gently licked the length of his penis. Her tongue dried its slick surface and explored the knot. And she daringly took the bony tip into her mouth and sucked the last of its fluid from it before Smoke completed tongue-washing her.
"Oh, Smoke," she whispered. "Oh, Smoke, honey, I do love you so!"
CHAPTER NINE
Millie showered and brushed her hair carefully. When she came out of the bathroom she studied the clothes in the closet and tried to decide what she ought to wear. There might be a period of quiet until breakfast was over and the dishes were cleared. But there would come a time when the others would decide they wanted to play with her again. And when they did they might leave her dressed for a while, as they had last night, or strip her at once. But, sooner or later, they'd undress her and it wouldn't matter what she had on. So the best course would be to wear whatever would be easiest to get off when the time arrived.
She'd not wear a bra or panties, she decided. She didn't need them for her figure and it wasn't going to matter if shadows revealed nipples or the soft patch of pubic hair. She did have one blouse that would come off easier than any of the rest. It wasn't really intended for a blouse, but for an over-blouse. It was cut a little like a poncho with a hole for her head and laces at both sides. Without the laces, it hung open below her arms and had no sleeves nor waist. Laced tightly, its material clung to her and revealed everything under it. For a skirt, she had a mid-thigh mini of heavy linen that buttoned down one side from waist to hem. It was intended to be worn over pants or pantyhose and flared rather too much for other uses. But it wouldn't matter this morning.
She took both garments from the closet and slipped into them. After she laced the blouse and shivered at the amount of flesh that showed at the sides, she decided on a touch of bravado and put on a pair of sandals with thongs that crisscrossed all the way to her knees. There were stirrings outside the door. She made a kissing sound at Smoke and went into the hall with him.
Tracy was there and Bob and Wayne were going down the stairs.
"I think Paul and Frances are up," remarked Tracy. "There's noise coming from their room."
"Noise?"
Tracy grinned. "Like they're getting their appetizer before they come out."
"Oh." Millie thought of the "appetizer" she'd had with Smoke. "I'd better get breakfast started. They'll be hungry."
"And I'm starved!"
Smoke preceded them down the stairs and trotted toward the back of the house. Millie heard the back door open and guessed that Bob or Wayne had let the dog outside. After a night without visiting a tree and the exercise he'd already had, the poor creature must be in agony, she reflected.
After a substantial breakfast of waffles and sausage-the Chases arrived in the dining room just as Millie was carrying the steaming platters to the table-Bob pushed back in his chair and sighed contentedly.
"Man, this is the kind of day that turns me on!" he exclaimed. "Damn fine breakfast, Millie!"
"Easy," she replied with a smile.
"Good breakfast calls for something stimulating afterward," Bob went on. "Got all the makin's today." He studied Millie's blouse pointedly.
She knew how much fair skin he was seeing and how clearly her nipples were outlined by the plain front of her blouse. She'd certainly insured an early start at the sex by her outfit. She shrugged inwardly. They wouldn't have waited much longer anyway, even if she'd worn her most demure housedress-maybe not as long.
Bob turned to Tracy. "Hey, Sis, mind if I borrow your belt?"
Tracy shrugged and smiled. "Be my guest. But it won't fit."
"Not for me, smart-ass."
Tracy stood and removed the broad, tooled-leather belt and handed it to her brother. Bob beckoned to Millie and she rose.
"I haven't got the dishes cleared yet," she pointed out.
"I'll get them," Frances murmured.
Millie let Bob put the belt around her waist and then stood motionless while he tied her forearms to it. He led her into the living room and the other two men followed. Frances and Tracy cleared the table.
In the living room, Bob knelt and lashed Millie's ankles together and then her knees. She shivered with apprehension at the unexpected bonds. If they were going to tie her again, she'd have supposed they would spread-eagle her. This didn't make sense.
"Lotsa ways to screw," Bob commented in a conversational tone. "Thought we might start off by looking at a few little ways that come in handy on a rainy afternoon when you're tired of the heavy stuff. "
"Do we have to?" Millie asked. It wasn't a question of having to, she knew, but she had to make some sort of protest as a formality.
"Ya don't do fun things because ya have to, baby." He surveyed her. "Want that stuff off to start with?"
"My clothes?"
He nodded.
"No."
"Okay. I like it with it on."
He made her sit on the arm of one of the chairs, her feet on the floor beside it, and let her lean against the edge of the back. Then he stood close beside her and leaned his hips forward until his belly rested against her shoulder. For a moment he caressed her jaw line with his fingers, then he stepped back and stripped. She gulped nervously at the sight of his already rigid penis. He returned to her and leaned his belly against her as he had before. His penis rested with its head between his belly and the swell of her shoulder.
Bob chuckled. "Ought to try this when things get dull," he said lightly. He grasped her upper arm and held it slightly away from her ribs and forced his penis down with his other hand and inserted it into the warmth of Millie's armpit. Pumping his hips, he slid the dry shaft back and forth in the close space while his left hip bumped her breast. It was a curious kind of sex, she reflected. There seemed to be no effort to arouse her and no really stimulating byplay except the brutal fact of friction for his penis. Any one of a thousand improvised devices could have given him as much satisfaction. She asked him if that were the case.
"Naw, baby. Got a couple o' things goin' for this way. First thing, you're alive and a real sexy broad. You make it two of us instead of one. Second place, I got the feelin' of that tit against my hip every time I move. Third thing, we don't have to do it exactly this way."
He pulled his penis free and lifted her legs to turn her so her feet were in the seat of the chair and her back was toward him. He slid his penis between her arm and her ribs again and the head protruded in front. He reached around her and cupped his hands over her breasts, massaging them as he pumped his hips. The bulbous head thrust forward and receded again and again in a slow, measured cadence and her breasts tingled fiercely.
"See, you could hold onto the head o' my cock with your other hand an' work me up real good this way." He increased his pace.
It was difficult to know how to react. Millie was discovering unsuspected erogenous zones; the dry friction in her armpit was shooting startling sensations through her and her crotch had already begun to throb. Bob's massage of her breasts contributed too, but there was a distinct difference.
Wayne brought a tube of K-Y jelly and Bob again withdrew his penis. He smeared the jelly on the livid member and thrust it against the crack between Millie's arm and body. Without bothering to hold her arm free he pressed and drove the stiff organ through the crevice. Millie gasped at the startling change in the nature of the stimulation. The friction was altogether different. Where her flesh bulged between the tight laces it was as intense as it would have been on the swell of her breast.
"I ... I'll hold its head with my hand if you want me to," she offered in a low voice.
"Yeah?"
She nodded slowly and kept her face down. Bob untied her right arm and she cupped her palm over the jelly-coated knob. Her hand was instantly slippery and she twisted it gently about while Bob's movements became increasingly jerky. His fingers narrowed their kneading to her nipples and her thighs rubbed together with growing warmth. If they continued this for a long enough time she'd reach an orgasm, she thought. But there was little chance of that with Bob's rising agitation.
"Hang on, baby!" Bob panted. "Hang on!"
She clutched at the slippery surfaces and squeezed and there was a sudden stop in the stroking. Bob jammed his belly forward until she felt the pressure of his testicles on the back of her arm. His hands tugged her breasts against her chest and held her to him. Enough of his penis was exposed in front of her for her hand to grip it tightly and she pumped on it as she had on Wayne's. There was an abrupt jet of hot wetness against her fingers and thick, white goo oozed between them to drip on her blouse.
Afterward, Bob breathed hard and shook while he let his shriveling penis rest in the warm nest. Millie was puzzled by her affectionate feeling toward him. He'd done nothing toward satisfying her-not that she'd really wanted him to-but she still felt good. Part of it had to be the knowledge that she'd let him find relief. Part of it might be that she'd responded sufficiently to feel a general sense of benevolence. But, as she thought back, she had to concede that it had been light and fun.
Wayne produced a piece of toweling and wiped her. He chuckled. "Quiet way to get a load off," he said softly.
"Not strenuous," she agreed.
"Get the drift and a couple can invent a hundred ways like that, maybe."
"Why would they?"
"Three reasons. Three main ones, anyway. But you gotta realize it's the woman who suggests going this route, not the man. And she'd suggest it because it'd do something for him without her working hard. Like if she were getting over something-too weak to take on a full scale screwing. Or like they'd been separated for awhile and she was menstruating when they got back together. That wouldn't bother everybody but it would some. Or like she figured the old man needed to blow off some tension and they didn't have any time for clean-up."
She considered his reasons and added the one she'd gathered from Bob's initial comments. "Or just for something different when they're getting all they want."
"Yeah. Just for the fun of it." He used the towel on one last spot and backed away. "Hey, Paul, you got one to show her?"
Paul nodded. "She's seen it. But it feels different than it looks."
He came to her and began to unlace the sides of her blouse. Millie expected this from the moment she'd come downstairs, but it still sent a thrill of embarrassment through her and made her stiffen. When both sides were unlaced, he pulled the blouse over her head and fingered her naked breasts.
"You're starting off with something to go on," he murmured.
She glanced at her taut nipples and agreed. Paul, with his gentle voice and manner, was the nearest to a gentleman of the three men, she decided. There was no contrast between those qualities and his slender physique and fine features, either. He'd made her think of musicians and artists from the beginning and seemed to appreciate subtler things than the others did. Now he carefully re-tied her forearm to the belt and moved her into the chair. Paul positioned Millie so that she slouched. He stepped back to appraise the effect. While he gazed she looked at herself. Her skirt had hiked some and showed most of her thighs, but it still hid her crotch. Her belly was creased again and her breasts looked so full as to be almost pendulous. And her arms were tied tightly to her sides.
Paul returned after undressing and stood astride Millie's legs. He bent to place his hands on the chair arms arid then thrust his knee between her hip and the upholstered arm. Resting his weight on that knee, he repeated the process with his other knee and knelt, straddling her lap. Paul was obviously being careful not to pinch her as he edged his knees toward the back of the chair. She watched with silent fascination as the bobbing head of his erect penis approached her. If he thrust it into her face and tried to make her take it in her mouth she'd clamp her jaws until a crowbar wouldn't pry them apart. She'd made small gestures toward that in the past twelve hours, but she wasn't going to imitate Frances.
But he didn't try. When his thighs rested snugly against her lower ribs, Paul laid his penis between her breasts and asked Wayne for the jelly. He smeared the inner bulges of her breasts instead of his penis. But when he laid his hands on the outer swell and pressed the mounds together over his penis the effect was the same. He held her breasts firmly and leaned into their tops. Undulating his hips he began to stroke his penis in its pulpy sheath. The head thrust into the open at the end of each stroke and the hair on his belly scraped back and forth over Millie's nipples.
Again, it was a low-key form of sex. Millie recognized that she might reach a climax if she were given enough time, but also recognized that the technique wasn't designed with that in mind. Slumped as she was, she was staring directly at Paul's belly. She carefully suppressed a smile at the way it settled as he stroked. But she was powerfully conscious of the surprising strength of his rippling, tapered muscles and the speed with which he became excited. He gazed down at her face almost without blinking. She sensed that a major part of his stimulation came from seeing her expression as she watched his belly and the rhythmically appearing bulb.
The near-frictionless sliding was taking place on the flesh of very sensitive growths, however. And the tingles that had struck inward from her breasts at first had now become high-potency pulses of desire. Millie had been at a partially aroused level at the beginning of Paul's demonstration and the pressure and stroking on her breasts was building her awareness rapidly. She was even undulating her own hips in time to Paul's long strokes.
On impulse, Millie bent her neck and dug her chin into her chest so she could see the emerging and retreating head of Paul's penis more clearly. And she found that she could teach its tip with her lips at the end of each upward stroke. That wasn't at all the same as Frances had done, and Millie began to plant light kisses with each contact. She heard Paul draw a sharp breath and suspected that he was experiencing a typically male build-up. From that sound, and the now furious tempo of his lunges, she guessed he'd come within moments. She ought to raise her face so the jism would be deflected by the curvature of her throat. But some perversity in Millie made her continue to kiss his hot flesh at each opportunity. When he drove himself hard onto her breasts and kept his throbbing bulb at the level of her mouth she held her lips to its tip in a long, silent kiss.
Her breasts detected an abrupt, hard pulse in the base of Paul's penis. An instant later a pellet of hot semen burst against her lower lip and chin. That impact was followed at rapid intervals by a series of others, each a little less violent, and then there was a period in which the hot liquid welled steadily against her and subsided to run down the straining shaft into the crevice between her breasts.
Paul shuddered and sighed and sagged back away from her. Even before he stirred himself to dismount, Wayne was beside them to mop the semen from her skin. But Millie furtively flicked her tongue out over her lower lip to taste the thick stuff. It was completely flat in flavor-metallic and neutral-and she realized that she could learn to love it or hate it depending on the circumstances of her early experiences. All in all, it was a rather pleasant taste, she decided.
By the time Wayne removed the stickiness, Paul had freed his knees from the cushions of the chair ' and stood. He gazed fondly down at Millie and smiled. "There's something special about you, Millie." His voice was tender and thoughtful. "If you and Tom ever think about neighborhood, sex, let Frances and me know."
"We won't. But thanks, Paul." She'd be damned if she was going to turn any other woman loose on Tom! And once this fantastic affair was over she'd never let another man but Tom at her, either! Still, Paul's offer was a sincere one and meant in the nicest way. She couldn't be angry with him for it.
Wayne drew her to her feet and picked up the discarded blouse. "Mind if I put this back on you?" he asked.
"Of course not!"
He slipped it over her head and untied her arms so she could help lace it. "I like the way you look in it," he admitted with a grin. "Besides, it's more sexy to screw a woman with her clothes on."
She shivered. That was the kind of remark that made her consider him less of a gentleman than Paul. It was also the kind of comment that shot a charge of anticipation through her and covered her with goose bumps!
Wayne tied her arms again and drew her to him. She rested with her breasts flattened on his naked chest and her belly rubbing his penis and let him tilt her face up and press his mouth to hers. His kiss was wet and hot. His tongue drove between her teeth and probed at the back of her throat. Millie gulped and drew up one knee with renewed hunger. A kiss like this one, with a man's hands hard against the small of a woman's back, had an electric quality to it that made her nerves stand on end and her pulse beat faster. It made sex seem like a personal thing instead of a carnival ride. Under these circumstances she feared it as much as she enjoyed it. But, aflame as she was, the fear was nothing more than a shadow on the fabric of her consciousness and the enjoyment swelled into avid response.
Wayne picked her up and carried her to the back of the chair. He laid her over it, face down, so her legs hung toward the floor and her front lay against the cushion. It was a difficult position and severely restricted her breathing. But when Wayne stroked the backs of her thighs and ran his hands under her skirt to caress her buttocks, Millie squirmed with eagerness. A momentary dread came over her that he might take her by surprise and go the whole route. But the atmosphere seemed to be one of light amusement and there'd surely be more group interest if she were going to get a real copulation.
Millie felt her skirt being lifted over her buttocks and laid on her back and knew that her buttocks were fully exposed. But, when Wayne laid his hand flat on the tissues of her crotch, she realized that this position exposed her crotch as completely as spreading her thighs would. She was horrified. The sudden flush of horror gave way to quick lust as Wayne fingered her pubic hairs and trailed his knuckles over her twitching folds. She could do little but squirm to her surging excitement, shocked to find how effectively the lashings at her knees and ankles restricted her body movements.
Wayne caressed her buttocks and the valley between them. She tensed as his fingers lingered at her rectum. But he parted her labia and stroked their inner walls and pressed his hand to the floor of their crevice while she panted and jerked vigorously. He was the first of the three who'd made an effort to arouse her and she was more than willing to react.
He removed his fingers from her crotch then, though, and she felt his sturdy thighs press on hers as he laid his penis along her now writhing sex lips. He toyed with her by drawing back and jabbing the blunt head of his penis into her puffed tissues until she groaned in anticipation. There was a brief pause in his activity and then a could, slippery contact where her thighs had a gap just below her crotch. She flinched and Wayne plunged his penis through the narrow gap. Seizing her hips with his hands he pulled her back on the broad cushion top so the fronts of her thighs were clear of the back of the chair. He thrust himself tightly against her. Millie could feel the inner surfaces of his thighs crossing outside hers and she knew he was partially crouched. And the sliding of his penis between the tops of her thighs was enormously more stimulating to her than either of the earlier activities.
Millie sucked hard for air and blew it out with sharp puffs through pursed lips. Her breasts ground against the cushion and felt as if they were afire and her belly knotted and writhed. She jerked her feet up to touch Wayne's buttocks. She felt his hand slide down her thighs until his fingers hooked in the loops that held her knees together. He lifted, and her legs extended straight out. He no longer had to crouch, she told herself. He could stand with his knees straight and his feet spread, straddling her tight-clamped thighs with his penis pointing down weird between them.
He pressed forward and the ridged upper side of his penis rode on her clitoris. Millie stiffened with a spasm of sheer lust and began to undulate her hips.
CHAPTER TEN
Millie heard Bob's voice. "Hey, man, I'll hold those legs up for you! How the hell you gonna keep your mind on what you're doin' if you have to reach back like that?"
Wayne grunted. "Thanks. Work better with my hands free."
He closed strong fingers on Millie's buttocks and kneaded them while he surged up and down over the backs of her thighs. All of Millie's sensations merged into a throbbing background to the fiery stream of signals her clitoris transmitted under the powerful strokes of Wayne's penis. Her body lashed and her breasts pounded against the cushion. She used the leverage of her horizontal legs to bounce her hips.
This time she'd come as fast as her rider, she knew. Already her thighs were clamping involuntarily on his jerking penis and tremors were shooting down their length. In a violent contortion, she raised her upper torso and arched her back, rocking on the back of the chair with its pressure in her belly adding to the pitch of her passion. She yelled in a long, undulating cry of animal joy as contractions gripped her vagina and swept through her belly. The pumping against her clitoris continued and her orgasm intensified. The convulsions that shook her body frightened her at the same time that they heightened her excitement. Her throat ached and her arms tore at their lashings. Wayne pressed on the backs of her thighs with such force that she was tilted sharply onto the harder frame of the chair with her buttocks pressed into his belly. His penis slashed back and forth against the pulp of her crotch and over the inflamed tip of her clitoris.
Wayne's stroking ended with a slamming surge against her. Dimly Millie heard his grunts of effort as his shaft pulsed out its semen. With the cessation of his movement, she plummeted from her dizzy peak and fell forward on the cushion once more.
Wayne's straining eased. "Okay, Bob. Let 'em down."
She felt her legs released and they fell to hang straight again. Wayne's penis softened and he withdrew it and backed away from her.
"Oh, my!" She sighed. "That's not light amusement!"
Someone caressed her buttocks briefly. "Not really light," he said. "Pretty fast, though."
"I like it."
For a time, no one said anything while she hung limp and helpless on the chair. It was a little like it had been right after the first episode when she'd lain on the drafting table helpless and exposed. Only she'd been burning with the stimulus of the absinthe then, and her whole being had thrilled to the knowledge that her body, never seen before in such a lewd posture, was the object of full and leisurely attention. She was most likely the object of just as much attention now, but it wasn't new this time. Curiously, Millie was as keyed up internally as she'd been then, even though she knew the absinthe had long since cleared her system. After such a wild orgasm, she ought to be sinking to a non-sensitive state that would make her impervious to further arousal. But she was well aware that the next touch would jerk her to eager readiness. That fact was an ominous reflection on some mysterious change that was taking place in her mind.
Millie's nerves leaped when hands closed on her bare sides, then calmed a little when she realized she was simply being lifted from the chair. It was Bob who righted her. She studied him curiously. He seemed to regard sex-and women in general-in a different light than either Wayne or Paul. It was natural for a bachelor to take another view from that of married men. But the difference she felt seemed unlike that. There was something in his manner that made her recall the sick apprehension she'd felt when she met him last night. As familiar as they had become since then, she should either have thrown off the feeling or confirmed its validity. She hadn't. And now it had returned stronger than ever.
She would be petrified with fear if she ever found herself alone with Bob. There was a sardonic gleam behind his light banter that suggested he'd delight in another's agony. His tension each time she was being tied up went far beyond the natural excitement Wayne and Paul showed. The way Bob struggled for self-control-carefully as he masked it-now made Millie guess that if he were alone with her, he'd waste no time in subjecting her to the worst possible tortures.
She had no idea what flicker of an eyelash or twitch of a finger had brought her fears into focus. There would be more intensive sex play as the day wore on and there was no way to prevent Bob's using her again. But her impression of his character was clear: her response to Bob would be something other than it would be to the others. She might well find herself aroused to a fever pitch of excitement under his urging ... she might even find herself in the aggressive role with him ... but it would be in the same context as the daring of the lion tamer or the snake charmer.
Paul smiled at her. "Whatever you're thinking, it's too sober, puss," he said.
"Sorry. You forgot to tie up my mind."
"Ouch! No fair!"
She didn't mean to hurt Paul; he'd been more than decent if she considered the situation. She smiled contritely. "Don't feel bad. I didn't mean it to be nasty."
"Let's see how you did mean it." There was a grave note beneath his casual lightness. He came to her and unfastened the knots. His hand closed over hers and he led her to the couch. "You're too nice to wind up mad at me," he murmured under his breath.
Millie sank onto the couch beside Paul and let him turn her and pull her across his body. He held her quietly for a time while she studied the lines of his face. He had a sensitive mouth, she thought, and she hadn't had to kiss him yet. Maybe she'd missed something pleasant. He had laugh crinkles at the corners of his eyes, too, and a smooth forehead. His eyes were funny, though. With dark hair she expected darker eyes, but his were a gray-green, like pictures she'd seen of the winter ocean.
Paul's arms tightened almost imperceptibly and a subconscious urge made Millie's hands steal up them. She lay curled on the couch on her right side. Her right hand came to rest on his shoulder. Her left crept to the back of his neck and she rolled in his arms so her breasts were against him. When she turned her face up again, it was only inches from his. He bent his neck and touched her lips with his. A warm glow spread over Millie and she thrust her lips up into the pressure. The glow deepened and became an all-over tingle and she worked her mouth more tightly against his. Under the force of her impulsive response, Paul's lips parted and she felt the hardness of his teeth behind them. That was how a kiss was supposed to feel, she thought absently, her own lips parting and drinking at his.
She let her head roll slowly from side to side and squirmed each time the gentle puff of his breath warmed her cheek. Her right hand slipped from his shoulder to his back and her fingers clutched tenderly at him. Almost without being aware of what she was doing, Millie slid her tongue forward and let its tip touch Paul's upper lip. He started, then thrust his tongue to meet the intrusion. Their tongues jabbed at each other and harsh shudders ran down Millie's body. She closed her lips over the tip of Paul's tongue and sucked at it. He let it glide into her greedy mouth and submitted to her sucking and the caresses her tongue gave his. Millie felt a stirring against the bare skin of her right side and knew that his penis was stiffening and rising to her.
Her breath came faster and her muscles rippled as the kiss continued. The stirring against her skin became a hard pressure against one of the lace-shaped bulges and she cautiously slid her hand from Paul's back to his lap. Her fingers encountered the hardened shaft, fumbled to close around it, her thumb felt over the knob that pressed into her flesh. Paul's arms tightened again and she felt his belly grow taut beneath her. She squeezed with her hand, rubbing the head of his penis slowly on her skin.
Paul held her with his left arm and ran his right hand down her upper side to her thigh. After resting his palm at the edge of her hem for a moment, he slipped it under her skirt and back up on her tingling flesh to close it over her buttocks. Millie stiffened abruptly and swallowed. Her hand jerked convulsively at his penis. Paul kneaded her buttocks with his fingers and slowly worked his hand around their curvature to their creases and into the moisture of her crotch.
At the storm of sensations that burst through her, Millie wrenched free from his kiss and twisted wildly. She let go of his penis and pushed frantically at his arm until he drew it from around her. Then she flung herself face down on him, seizing his penis again and crushing her lips against its swollen head. Paul gasped and clutched at her labia with his finger working aimlessly. Millie pulled herself back and stretched on her side, her elbows supporting her upper torso, her face lowered over the blunt penis in her hands.
The underside lay exposed and she set her teeth on each side of the protruding band of muscle fiber. She nipped gently, moving her bite progressively from the base of the shaft to the head, then worked her mouth back along its length, scraping its surface with her tingling lips.
Paul groaned softly. He let himself down facing her writhing body. She felt his hands again holding her buttocks as he buried his face in her luxuriant pubic hair. Her thighs twitched and she raised her left knee. Paul's mouth pressed through her thatch and isolated the mound of her clitoris, his lips closing over the smooth lump sucking gently.
Millie cried out with pleasure and gnawed at the side of his penis; then as he swung his legs onto the couch and stretched them before her, Millie pulled herself over him and rested her breasts on his belly.
She cupped her hand under his scrotum and lifted his testicles, kissing the hairy, wrinkled skin of the bag. Hesitantly she extended her tongue to lick at it. Paul's thighs quivered and his fingers squeezed her bottom while he drew the flesh around her clitoris into his mouth. Millie babbled over the mass at Paul's groin. She felt confused and helpless with his testicles and penis so utterly at her disposal-"the flexing muscles under Paul's matted pubic hair so clearly leaping with the excitement she'd induced.
She kissed the underside of his penis head and touched the slit with the tip of her tongue to pick up the bead of clear fluid that stood in it. The flat taste made her shiver. With a rush of desire Millie pressed her lips to the spot and sucked hard to draw out what remained hidden inside the passage. Paul's hips tightened and his groin thrust upward with a compulsive jerk. Waves of hard giddiness were hammering Millie. Her hand clutched desperately at the pulsing organ. She laid her mouth on it, each lip going halfway around a side, and scraped with her teeth. There was a sharp shudder in Paul's thighs and his testicles jerked to the top of the long bag.
Paul's hands grasped her hips and he lifted, swinging and rolling her so her body was held over his and her knees lay astride his head. He pulled her toward his face and she hung onto his penis as if she were in danger of losing it. She felt his mouth close over her clitoris and suck vigorously, and her thighs hardened and contracted in an effort to drive her hips upward and her crotch away from the intolerable stimulus. But Paul's hands pressed downward on her buttocks, held her in place, while her legs thrashed and her body twisted.
She raised his penis from where it lay on his belly and pressed her lips to its tip, running them slowly downward over the swelling sides and around the ridge at the back of its head. The bulb filled her mouth and her tongue rubbed tenderly across the flared back and curled around the ridge. She sucked and thrust her face forward to force Paul's penis to the back of her mouth and drive her lips down the shaft. Her jaw was widely distended and her teeth rested on the shaft, her upper teeth against the softer underside and her lower against the shell-like sheath. The tapering head flattened her tongue to the floor of her mouth. She surged downward until the rounded tip lodged at the back of her throat.
Millie's throat tissues swelled and hardened. Her breath was cut off, but she sucked hard on the enormous mouthful while Paul's mouth released her clitoris and his tongue probed into the trough between her labia. When her lungs burned for air, she drew her head back, dragging her teeth on his shaft until they lodged against the ridge of the head. She breathed hard and sucked again, her head bobbing with the sucking rhythm and her lips sliding forward and back on the imprisoned shaft. Her hand encircled the base of the shaft and jerked up and down from the base of her lips, the skin wrinkling ahead of her hand when she stroked toward her mouth, stretching taut when she slammed her hand downward.
She could hear her own voice coming in muffled groans through the drawn flesh of her cheeks and feel it humming at the roof of her mouth. There were abrupt flurries of wet, sucking noises from where Paul had sucked a mouthful of her labial flesh between his teeth. He was chewing and sucking at the same time with her tissues crowded around his extended tongue. Fingers of intense excitement stabbed into Millie and sent tingles racing over her skin.
She was propped on her elbows, each elbow resting on the couch on opposite sides of Paul's hips. Her breasts swayed against his belly with the thinly clothed nipples dragging through bristling hair. Millie's belly scrubbed his chest and her legs churned, her thighs alternately clamping against the sides of his head and thrusting wide apart. But Paul still held her surging buttocks down so her clitoris ground against his chin. She shuddered continually while her hand jerked and stripped his shaft and her lips worked against its hard surface. Her tongue scrubbed the trapped head as she sucked.
Paul's knees drew up convulsively and fell away from each other. His thighs leaped as the tendons hardened and momentarily relaxed. Millie's right hand speeded its strokes and her left gently rolled his testicles against each other. Millie felt Paul ease the suction on her labial flesh and drive his tongue into her vagina. She bucked and crushed her crotch back against his face. His suction resumed and drew in the tissues surrounding the mouth of her vagina. He chewed and sucked and repeatedly stabbed his tongue into her and withdrew it to the very rim of her opening.
There was a roaring in Millie's head, a wall of darkness before her eyes, as she jabbed her head up and down and redoubled the force of her suction. She felt Paul's testicles jerk violently in her palm as if he'd given a mighty tug to some string that was attached to them. His penis buzzed suddenly in her hand and leaped against the grip of her mouth. His thighs tensed and his belly hardened and he lifted his hips to thrust his penis deeper into her throat.
Millie sensed vaguely that he'd passed some new threshold of excitement and even as the realization broke into her awareness a lump of hot, thick fluid burst against the back of her throat. Her air passage closed reflexively and she gulped to swallow the great gob of semen before it could back into the passages of her nose. Before the first swallow was complete she had to swallow again-and then again-and the heavy liquid still welled into the top of her throat and filled the spaces between her teeth and her cheeks. Desperate gulps barely enabled her to get the jism swallowed fast enough to keep it from bursting past her Ups and squirting out around Paul's shaft. But his contortions slowed and the fluid sprang more slowly from his penis. Millie felt her cheeks bulge less as she began to down more of it than she accepted into her mouth.
Even as the last spurts erupted from his slit, Paul's penis began to soften and shrink. Millie sucked harder to extract any residue of semen, and she pulled more and more of the shriveling organ into her mouth. But it no longer defied the pressure of her teeth or held her head back with bar-like strength.
Millie's own excitement had reached an unendurable pitch. She writhed with demented violence on Paul's body. He chewed harder and sucked faster and drove his tongue inward again and again. A spasm seized her belly and jerked at the tendons along her back so that it arched and pulled her thighs up and back and concentrated her weight on her pelvis.
Repeated convulsions of passion shook her body while contractions squeezed her vagina with a fast, powerful rhythm. She released Paul's slack scrotum and let go of his penis with her hands and reached under his crotch to dig her nails into his buttocks. As Paul drove his hips upward Millie sucked the remainder of his flaccid organ into her mouth and burrowed her chin into the flesh that covered his pubic arch. She chewed distractedly on the pulp of his limp penis and sucked senselessly as her wild contractions ran their course. When they slackened, she collapsed and laid her cheek on the side of Paul's groin without letting his penis escape from her lips.
Millie continued to suck the penis gently and quietly until it felt dry and sterile in her mouth. Then she slowly let it slip from her lips. Sighing deeply, she buried her face in Paul's pubic hair and rubbed her nose against his warm flesh. Her thighs fell away from each other and her knees rested limply on either side of Paul's head while his hands stroked her relaxed buttocks tenderly. Something rounded and broad-she decided lazily it must be his chin-was lodged in the depression around the mouth of her vagina and in the shrinking embrace of her labia, but there was no further movement or passion; there was only warmth and the pleasure of spent ecstasy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Millie was aware of her surroundings in a dreamy, unreal sort of way. Her cheek pressed against the relaxed muscles where Paul's thigh joined his hip and ran into the banded abdominal muscles. Tenderly she kissed his limp penis from time to time while her fingers idly stroked his other thigh. .She felt his lips caress her shrunken labia and his teeth tug playfully and gently at the hair that grew from her crotch. But all urgency was gone and she floated in a sea of contentment and well-being.
It would be nice to lie like this with Tom, she thought, if only it weren't so unconventional. Somehow it seemed so intimate and so caring to caress the penis that could at times stab like an unyielding stump. It made Millie feel warm and spoiled to have a masculine face nuzzling her unresponding love tissues with appreciative tenderness. But this kind of abandoned after play was something unique to a situation where she'd been forced to give up all her inhibitions and act under someone else's rules. It wasn't consistent with the values and standards she conducted her everyday life under.
She heard the kitchen clock chime the hour. Ten o'clock!
There'd been no call from Tom, and he'd made it a sacred practice on these trips to call her by nine if he was going to have to be away for another night. He'd be home today and they'd resume their normal, humdrum routine. Millie would look back on this twelve or eighteen hour period with an occasional secret thrill and a sort of wishful disbelief, never quite able to convince herself she'd dreamed it, and yet afraid to admit it had really happened.
She heard Tracy's voice, thinking at first she was imagining it. Then conceding that this lassitude was out of place in the frenetic activity Tracy had planned.
"Hey! You two off on a cloud somewhere?" demanded Tracy.
"Huh?" Paul sounded reluctant to leave whatever reflections were engrossing him.
"I said, we ought to be setting up for the next guy. And neither one of you paid any attention."
Paul chuckled and stirred. "Too comfortable," he said.
Tracy chuckled. "Sweet. Only Wayne's waiting for his."
Millie felt a tingle of anticipation. She still wasn't drained of the capacity for response, apparently, and the notion that Wayne might be impatient carried with it a suspicion that Tracy's athletic husband had been saving some particularly stimulating favorite of his. She pulled herself together reluctantly and scrambled off Paul, standing and straightening her twisted blouse and crumpled skirt. A twinge of embarrassment tugged at her as she inadvertently let herself imagine how she must have looked to the others in the room, but she shook it off and looked covertly at the
"waiting" Wayne.
He slouched in one of the armchairs with his hands folded over his belly, a suggestive fullness to his reposing penis. One ankle rested on the other and he gazed quietly at her hemline, his face relaxed and thoughtful. But when Millie moved slowly toward him he pushed himself out of the chair and reached for her hand.
"Come on, baby," he said. "Let's go upstairs."
In the second floor hallway, he led her toward the guest room. Tom had gradually been remodeling for conversion to a den. It was over-sized and capable of multiple use. Having its own bath and a pleasant fireplace, it had first been used for Millie's eldest uncle and his bride to live in until their own house was completed. But that had been in grandfather's day when her own father had still been a boy. Now Tom had installed great, low beams below the ceiling with the intention of laying acoustical sheeting over them to cure the room of its excessive height. And he'd set eye-bolts into the beams, hanging double pulleys from them to provide a way to hoist his varied shop equipment out of the way when he wasn't indulging in one of his numerous hobbies.
Wayne had apparently spent some time in the room last night weaving Tom's lines through some of the blocks. He stopped her beside the bed and fastened loops of stout nylon rope to her wrists and ankles. He secured a pulley to each loop and slipped a loop of one of the block and tackle lines onto each pulley.
Millie submitted without protest, but her heart was pounding with apprehension. Wayne's preparations could only mean he had some notion of suspending her from the beams and the idea scared her.
He took up the slack in one of the lines that ran to her arm pulleys and drew her left arm into the air above her head. While Paul held that line, Wayne hauled in the other arm line and hoisted her other arm. The two pulleys overhead were mounted to the same beam and were only some two or two and a half feet apart so that the tension on Millie's wrist drew her arms up with almost no spreading effect. Millie felt stretched and had little of her weight on her heels.
She trembled when Wayne ran his hand over her taut torso. He caressed the bulges of naked flesh between the side lacings of her blouse and then fingered her upthrust breasts, making shivers of excitement race over her.
She panted out of fear of what was to come next as she studied the lay of the other two lines. The ropes ran forward from her ankles to pulleys in another beam. Those pulleys were separated by four or five feet and she knew that her legs would be parted at a considerable angle when they were pulled taut.
Wayne smiled at her and kissed her lips lightly. "You'll have fun with this one," he promised. "Look scary?"
"Oh, yes!" She whispered.
"It won't be bad."
"I'm still scared!"
He chuckled and began to unlace her blouse. "I want to see all of you this time," he told her.
As the laces came out, the blouse hung free and the front panel draped straight down from where it lay over her nipples. Wayne raised it and pulled it over her head, then tossed it onto the bed and turned back to her. He stroked Millie's sides and rubbed his palms on her breasts. Her nipples quickly stiffened at his touch. He paused to suck briefly at each nipple and roll it between his teeth before unbuttoning her skirt and pulling it away from her hips.
Millie twisted with renewed embarrassment. Her pubic mound thrust forward with her belly muscles stretched as they were. Wayne ran his hand in slow circles on her belly and rubbed it through her pubic hair. She squirmed and thrust her hips backward to escape the touch, but Tracy pulled on one of the wrist lines and Paul on the other. She felt herself raised until her toes failed to touch the floor. She was no longer able to evade Wayne's hand as he delicately probed at her genitalia with one finger while she squirmed and twisted.
Millie discovered immediately that hanging by her arms could be a problem. Her weight would dislocate her shoulders very quickly if she didn't keep her muscles tense, she decided. It seemed to be all right to relax them for a few seconds at a time.
But she wouldn't have much chance to relax them if Wayne was going to do things to her. The strained position seemed to heighten her sensitivity enormously. No matter where he touched her, it acted as a sexual stimulus and made her whole body tense up. The feel of his finger in her crotch made her jerk one arm and then the other and set her to twisting and swinging until she couldn't relax if she wanted to!
Wayne grasped the free ends of the two lines from the pulleys for her ankles and began to haul them in. Her feet rose slowly in front of her and, as she kept them stiff, her buttocks were thrust backward until her legs passed the horizontal position. After that, her bottom swung back down and was gradually pulled forward until she hung at an angle. Wayne hoisted her legs until her feet were at a level slightly higher than her shoulders-and well spread-then stopped and studied her.
"Hell, she couldn't be better," he remarked to Tracy. "Might as well snub the lines."
Tracy and Paul each secured one of the wrist lines to a cleat in the row that Tom had installed at the wall and Wayne joined them, carefully keeping her ankle lines taut. While he secured them to other cleats, Millie examined herself.
She was suspended in a sharp vee with her buttocks the low point. The pulleys supporting her ankles and wrists were too close together to stretch her horizontally and the pain in the backs of her knees forced her to bend them so that her thighs rested against her sides. Her knees were far enough apart to expose all of her front and she could look down at herself and see all too clearly how thoroughly open she was. Her breasts were elevated by the tension in the muscles that ran down over her shoulders and her nipples stood saucily tilted upward. Her belly was creased. The backs of her upper thighs were agonizingly taut. Her crotch bulged outward with the hair gleaming and the pink folds protruding and spreading away from each other. She hadn't been raised very far, though, and she was certain that those pink folds hung precisely at the level of Wayne's hips.
Wayne returned to her and laid one hand on her left upper arm. "Perfect," he said softly. "Beautiful!" He stroked downward to her waist and then reached up to her left ankle. Again his hand slipped down, caressing her calf and then, more slowly, the back of her thigh. The contact sent a sharp tingle over Millie and made her gasp at her great sensitivity. But she was aware that having her legs up divided her weight so her shoulders no longer felt ready to come apart.
She watched in humiliation while Wayne used both hands to stroke her thighs and buttocks. The pink flesh at her crotch was winking visibly and moisture was spreading slowly over it. Inwardly, she felt as if her labia were swelling like balloons and the mouth of her vagina was opening like a door. Wayne wasted little time in exploiting her position. He ran his fingers lightly over the outer surfaces of her labia. They rustled through her hair with such a vivid stimulating effect that she imagined she could hear the whisper of the hair bending and straightening.
Even touching those relatively numb areas aroused Millie. Tightness clutched her breasts and her belly. Her breath became ragged. She laid her cheek against her right shoulder and gritted her teeth and blew through them. Her hands clenched and unclenched as if trying to grasp something in the air. She flexed her knees involuntarily, making her crotch swing forward and back repeatedly.
But the hairless, bright mucous tissues attracted Wayne more than the outer slopes, she decided, because his fingers soon started to stroke and rub her quivering inner parts. She could only shut her eyes and wallow in the waves of feeling that sensation produced. Heat flashed through her. Muscles she couldn't even detect snapped taut then relaxed, only to tighten again. Her belly writhed and her hips twisted from side to side. Pleasure welled in her, so intense that it felt almost the same as deep sorrow. Her moans were moans of anguish in the delirium of her ecstasy and real tears hung on her eyelashes.
She realized dimly that every sense was amplified and reinforced by psychological factors-the brutal humiliation of her lascivious posture-and again by the extreme tautness of her main muscles and tendons. She'd surely rise to her orgasm faster this time than she ever had in her life. But because her sensations were going to be more intense, it would surely be one of the most violent orgasms she'd ever had, too. The thought persisted, even after the fleeting rationale lost itself in the swirling mists of passion and had added its part to her heightening awareness.
For the first time in her sex experience, Millie could actually tilt her head far enough forward to see the mouth of her vagina when her labia were parted. She watched the things Wayne did with her. His finger traced patterns over the broad zones of her exposed pink flesh. The pink was already darkening fast with the inrushing blood. His finger left a lighter trail that only slowly recovered its flush. Millie's moisture had spread in a thin coat that caught and reflected the light and lubricated his finger's movements to give them the feel of gliding pressure without friction. As the pressure moved, each depressed nerve ending pulsed its sudden, urgent message of sexual arousal into her.
Millie could see the puffy flesh writhing with a slow, hypnotic rhythm that wasn't rhythm but beat. And the gaping rim of the dark crater of her vaginal mouth yawned alternately wider and narrower with smooth deliberation that reminded her of a slow-motion film she'd once seen of the food-seeking movements of a hungry sea anemone.
It embarrassed Millie to watch that slow, blind gulping, and at time the embarrassment became so strong that it smothered her and made her gasp for air. But it would have been infinitely worse, she thought, if the mouth were larger. At least it was small and firm-appearing, small enough to feel an inward-thrust finger. And it would clutch tightly to an object the size of a penis-stretching to accept it, of course, but clutching it in the embrace of mating passion.
Wayne set his fingertips in the long hollows at the outer edges of her labia and pressed the funneled inner surfaces with his thumbs, drawing his thumbs slowly outward and moving them back to the very edges of Millie's vaginal mouth to repeat the outward strokes. Each stroke sent fiery ripples of hungry excitement pulsing inward and made her hold her breath and bear down. The aching desire that welled in the interior of her belly was unbelievable, and her knees learned how to flex in unison in a way that made her bottom swing outward sharply and fall back gently. Millie moaned in low tones and sudden little whimpers when the passion surged too abruptly.
Wayne stood closer and looked up from her jerking crotch to gaze into her eyes. She returned the gaze openly for a moment, pouring her eagerness and joy into her stare for him to read, then felt herself flush with the inner knowledge of what she was silently saying to him and dropped her lashes to hide her emotions.
She saw his body and the tremors in his upright penis and the way his testicles had drawn up into the neck of his scrotum. And she saw and felt Wayne's hand being laid flat on the contours of her vulva while his other hand belatedly caressed her heated breasts. The thumb at her crotch doubled under and Millie felt it press into her labial trough and dip on the edge of her vaginal mouth. It pushed inward and stretched the greedy mouth and thrust its length into her cavity. Wayne twisted his hand so his fingers curved under the roundness of her bottom. She felt one of his fingers settle at her rectum and thrust upward until it burst through her taut sphincter and buried itself within her rectal passage.
At the dual penetration, Millie cried out with savage delight and thrashed her hips. She jerked herself upward repeatedly-and repeatedly let herself drop onto the supporting pressure of the thumb and finger.
Wayne smiled approvingly and ran his other hand back down to pinch her clitoris. The triple stimulus drove her into a frenzy of violent contortions. Her emotions churned and her nerves "buzzed" so powerfully that she was filled with unreasoning amazement that she wasn't coming. Her teeth chattered and her arms and thighs jerked fiercely.
Her breasts danced while Wayne leaned closer to catch one of the nipples between his lips. The sudden suction added only a subtle undercurrent in the river of boiling sensations, but it was like an alchemist's secret precipitator and it tore a frantic plea from her.
"Oh, please!" She panted and had to force the words through clenched teeth. "Oh, God! Please let me come, Wayne!"
His reply was barely audible. "I will. I'm going to fuck you, Millie."
Fuck her. He was going to fuck her. The phrase whispered through her fibers and trickled along her veins and echoed eerily in the comers of her consciousness. It evoked hard thrills beneath her skin. In a giddy rush of mental shouting she had the weird feeling that his promise should have alarmed her, but she felt no real reaction but fierce joy and impatience.
"Yes!" she whispered. "Yes, Wayne, yes!"
Millie dug her chin into the hollow at the top of her chest and gazed without blinking while he withdrew his thumb and finger and laid the head of his penis in the midst of her livid vulvular tissues. The hard roundness of the great bulb rested solidly on the firm rim of her vaginal mouth and she felt a pulsing at the ring of contact. There was a steadily growing pressure and Millie sensed the stretching of her guarding muscles. His penis sank inward while the surrounding pulp of her labia bulged aside and a hot throbbing grew and spread from the fusing zone. Millie willed her body to rigidity, holding her breath and curling her toes to save herself from involuntarily slamming herself onto the engorged organ. Without her consciously wishing, her whole being ached for the thrill of a slow, deliberate penetration. She wanted to savor the terrible beauty of sensation to the absolute limit of her capacity and dreaded an unplanned twitch that would cut the ecstasy short.
The purpling ring that formed the edges of her vaginal mouth crept over the increasing diameter of the disappearing head until it gleamed brightly at the flared shoulder, and then, suddenly, it slipped over and clamped around the following shaft. She let her breath out with a gusty, sighing moan and felt herself settle onto the sliding cylinder. The bulk of the penis awakened internal tingles as it wedged its way up her vaginal passage. The walls of her passage clung to it and squeezed it as it passed. It reached the inner end and continued to advance.
Millie felt a familiar but weird inner stretching as her barrel receded before the pressure.
The bony hardness of the base of Wayne's penis bore finally against the spongy fullness of her vulva and flattened it. She sensed that her eyes were bulging and her mouth was straining open as if the monstrous head had reached her throat and were going to thrust out through her distended jaws.
Then Millie gave way with her first gingerly thrusts against Wayne's groin. His pubic hair was a bristly mat with wire-ends that stabbed her raw flesh in a thousand prickles. The tops of his thighs pressed the lower roundness of her buttocks and his belly rode on the bulge of her love mound.
His hips began a slow, even pumping and she watched with fascinated delight as the light skin of his penis pulled out of her and into sight and then plunged again and again into her voracious cavity. Timing her motions with desperate care, Millie swung herself away from Wayne's groin and back into it, meeting each of his thrusts with one of her own. But, as the tempo gradually increased, she found her control inadequate. She thrilled with unspoken gratitude when Wayne clutched at her thighs and began to regulate her swings.
The faster their rhythm became, the more brutal the force with which Wayne slammed against her. And the greater the amplitude of movement he forced on her.
When Millie's excitement mounted to where her entire body burned with a raging fire of pleasure, Wayne was thrusting her outward until his entire shaft was exposed, white and veined and shining with her thick, slippery fluid. Only the bulkier head remained inside her. Then he was crashing her back onto, the shaft with a rush that threatened to drive the head of his penis through the tortured membrane of her vagina. Millie's clitoris felt bruised and flattened and its incessant, jangling pulses of ecstatic sensation made her body shake wildly.
Millie flung her head back and stared unseeing toward the overhead beams. Her voice was hoarse with her continuous cries of delight. Her chest ached with the need for more air. She felt a terrifying tightness growing throughout her belly and a monumental tension gathering around the mouth of her vagina. With a startled scream and a convulsive spasm she felt the clutching mouth clamp inward on its driving prisoner. The contraction rolled up the length of her barrel and was followed by another and another. Blackness settled over her and her head pounded with sudden violent pressure. Her body stiffened and its hardened muscles buzzed with an awesome tremor. She was subconsciously aware of an answering tremor in the hot flesh that crushed against her and of an explosive gushing of heat into the inner end of her vaginal channel. She hung for what seemed an eternity on the erupting penis and shook with her greedy, semen-demanding contractions. But the intensity finally broke.
Her body slowly lost its uncontrollable hardness and one muscle after another loosened. Wayne continued to crush Millie's crotch against the bony structure of his groin, but the penis within her belly gradually softened and shrank.
Millie shuddered and brought her head forward. Wayne tilted his face and pressed his warm mouth to hers. The kiss was wet and sloppy-an acknowledgement of success rather than a preliminary to trail-and it triggered a rush of satisfied relaxation to replace the former slower running down.
Millie never could remember the actual withdrawal of Wayne's penis, nor being lowered from her coital position. But she would never forget the sensation of finding herself standing on the balls of her feet, her arms still tightly extended over her head and Paul and Bob both amusing themselves by exploring her taut curves with their hands.
"Oh, no," she whispered weakly. "Let me rest for a while."
"Go ahead and rest," replied Bob with mockery in his voice. "We can reach what we want."
But Paul gently kissed one of her nipples and backed away.
"Why'n'tcha go on," suggested Bob to the others. "I'll get 'er down in a few minutes. I just want to mess around a little bit." He grinned self-consciously. "Somethin' special about this way."
The others hesitated, and then left the room. But Tracy paused in the doorway and turned toward Bob.
"She's not expendable, Bob," she said in low tones. "Remember that."
Without glancing up, Bob said, "Shut the door." Tracy pulled the door closed behind her. Millie sagged momentarily on her agony-ridden arms, letting her knees go limp and her belly protrude. She was alone and utterly helpless in the hands of the one man she feared and loathed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bob ran his hands lovingly and slowly over every part of Millie's body. She feared him so intensely that the continued contact built her panic to the breaking point. Finally she shrieked. With the first piercing wail she found herself unable to stop. Her screams filled the room and reverberated from wall to wall. Bob leaned close to her face and grinned with an evil expression.
"That's the way I like a woman," he said, and she could hear the hissed words even through her screams.
She chopped off the sounds in mid-cry, her throat constricting until no air could get past it.
"Scream, baby!" he urged. "Scream when you feel like it. That'll make you come harder. And you're going to like it my way." He turned and went to the chest of drawers. "Brought something in special for you." He returned and extended his hand to show her what it held.
"Oh, God, no!" she exclaimed through her aching throat. "Oh, no, Bob!"
A pile of jumbled straight pins lay on his palm, their points glinting in the light. He looked from them to her and back into his palm.
"You got lotsa pincushions, baby," he said with a hiss. "Big tits and fat ass and all that stuff. Oughta be able t' stick one right on the length o' your clit, I bet!" He dragged the tip of his tongue over his lips and his eyes burned madly. "Man, will you come hard! Man, wait'll you see how hard I come!"
"Oh, no ... Dear God no!"
There was a sound at the door and it opened to admit Tracy with Wayne and Paul at her heels.
"Bob." Tracy's voice had the quality of ripping silk. "Bob, you sonovabitch, she's our friend!"
"Shit, Sis! A handful o', pins never hurt anybody! You been that route!"
Tracy's eyes narrowed and glittered and her lips compressed. "I've been that route," she admitted. "Hanging from a tree limb the way she's hanging from that beam. Fifteen and a virgin and thinking we were playing 'pioneer and Indian' for thrills." She reached. "Give me those goddamn pins, Roberto."
Bob's face registered disappointment and an oddly boyish resentment. "Aw, hell, Sis! All right. Here."
Tracy took the pins and Bob stamped out of the room. Wayne and Paul loosened the lines and lowered Millie's arms. Tracy caught her as she collapsed.
"Come on, darling," said Tracy in a soothing tone. "Walk off the stiffness."
Millie walked off her stiffness and took advantage of the break to calm her nerves. Her premonition about Bob had been frighteningly true. And Tracy's intuition and knowledge of her brother had been the only thing that had saved her from an agonizing experience. If Bob got another chance, he might manage it in such a way as to forestall such interference. She could only pray that the chance wouldn't come to him.
"What time is it?" she asked.
Wayne replied. "The hall clock downstairs said noon a few minutes ago. Why?"
Millie sighed happily. "Tom didn't call this morning to say he'd be in Denver another day. He ought to be here by one o'clock."
Wayne looked startled. "The hell you say! We're out of time, then!"
Tracy smiled and squeezed Millie's hand. "We don't need any more time, darling. Anything else we decided to do would just be for our own fun."
"Huh?" But he looked as if he understood. "Millie's learned what she needed to."
Whatever that was, Millie thought wryly. She'd learned ah unbelievable amount about perverted sex practices, all right, and that she could have fantastic fun doing them. But that was under duress and without any option. When Tracy and Wayne and the others left, less than an hour from now, they'd take that chapter of her life with them.
Tom would never know what had happened and she'd put it out of her mind. With patience and understanding she'd complete the remolding she'd started long ago on Tom's tastes. And he'd lose the last of his novelty-hunger. And if some dark creature in the back of her mind occasionally twisted her desires with reminders of the ecstasy she'd felt with these deviant acts ... well, maybe she'd have to sacrifice in private; maybe she'd have to secret herself in a locked room or a remote clearing in the woods and act out a fantasy to relieve the pressure.
It came to her with a belated rush that her one obsessive resolve--the determination to save the ultimate intimacy for Tom-had evaporated in the new den. Where the realization should have brought a flood of horror and self-condemnation, she was uncomfortably aware that no such reaction existed. The truth was, she decided, that Tom had lost nothing. That act took nothing-and left an intangible increment of emotional capacity each time it was performed.
She put aside her revery in the bustle of straightening the house and assisting her guests-or should she call them captors, she wondered-as they got ready to leave. In the moment of waving to them from the back door as they slipped among the spruce, she noted that she was still naked, except for the high-laced sandals. Millie rushed back into the house to find the clothes Wayne had removed from her.
She'd hardly finished lacing her blouse and was still in the den, reflectively studying the pulleys on the beams, when she heard the front door open downstairs. She bounded down the steps and into Tom's arms with glad cries of welcome. He caught her to him and crushed her lips with his kiss. Then he stiffened and held her tighter.
After a long pause he held her away from him and gazed at her. "Holy Christ!" he exclaimed softly. "How did you know what I was going to need when I got home?"
She felt her face color. "I...." She hesitated. "Well, it's been so long."
"Yeah. Well, it's hard, now, puss. Want to go upstairs?"
"After awhile." She leaned toward him and he pulled her back into his arms with savage urgency.
She'd blown it, she reflected. She'd never worn this blouse for him without a bra and some other blouse or something under it. And when he finally discovered that there wasn't anything under her skirt he'd be climbing the walls! He'd be on the verge of an orgasm almost before he could get his clothes off! And there was no way of guessing what wildly perverted thing he might be tempted to try.
She brought her mental wanderings up short. Perverted? Hadn't she used that word once too often? The perverted acts she had in mind were things that were fun. They were things that brought intense pleasure to a race of creatures who survived because of built-in instincts to make them pleasure-seeking! No race really had to know how the things that gave pleasure fitted into the long range pattern of race survival. It was sufficient that the instinct be obeyed.
And besides, there was a terrible, irresistible, hungry tenderness in her for Tom. God, how she wanted to make him feel the depths of excitement and pleasure she'd felt in the past day!
"Honey," she whispered against his lips. "Oh, honey!" She found the zipper pull on his trouser fly and pushed it down and reached inside to close her fingers around his suddenly erect penis.
Tom gasped and stiffened; his hands clutched at her. Millie unfastened buttons on his clothes, then tore at them in her frantic desire to have his naked body at her command. They laughed and tussled and wound up on the floor in a violent embrace. Her skirt somehow had gotten wadded at her waist. The lacing on the left side of her blouse had broken and come away. Millie clamped one of Tom's thighs between hers and ground her crotch against the hard muscles that welcomed her. And she brushed the front of her blouse to one side so she could rub her nipples in the silky chest hair that made Tom so different.
She kissed his great shoulders and nipped at the chest that made her look like a tiny copy of an adult while clutching at the upright penis that was too thick for her hand to circle. He was the mountain spirit in the flesh, she'd whispered to him more than once. And he'd admitted, sometime between her agreeing to marry him and the day of the wedding, that he could survive only here in the majestic Rockies. Because, he'd quietly told her, only in the shadow of their immensity could his own grotesque bulk go unchallenged.
His hands closed around Millie's waist and his arms swung her high into the air above him while he laughed gaily up at her. His teeth glistened against his lips and his forehead wrinkled until the edge of his hair touched his eyebrows. His feet lifted and his long toes curled against her ankles suggestively. With a thrill of hard desire, Millie reacted to the tentative touch by arching her back and thrusting her legs apart to the limit of their freedom. And she ran her hands down his iron-ridged arms with her fingers burrowing through the hair.
"Oh, honey," she said again. "I love you so, honey!"
Tom lowered her and rocked with her, and then Millie scrambled to her knees and dropped with her face over his tree-trunk penis. She grasped it in both hands and showered the massive head with kisses, her tongue lapping vigorously at the slit between times. His blunt fingers toyed with her wobbling buttocks and stroked the crevice between her labia, and then one of them drove deep into her vagina. He pushed and Millie's hips left the floor. She knew he was unaware of the fact that he was lifting her by that buried digit.
She opened her mouth to its widest distension and forced her lips painfully over the dome of his penis head, sucking with desperate abandon. To hell with convention, she thought. To hell with inhibitions and the traditions of the "gentlefolk" and the race-destructive taboos created by self-appointed prophets of propriety! Majestic Valley had proven itself grand enough to absorb one atavism without commotion-to provide refuge to an outsider without anything to call "his kind": it could surely adapt to atavistic reversion in one of its own!
Millie sucked harder and let the immensity of the brutal knob flatten her tongue and swell her cheeks. But Tom pulled her gently away from the giant staff and held her.
"You want it that way, puss?" he asked in the organ tones of his love-voice. "That what you want?"
"I want what you want most, honey," she said softly. "I want it any way you do. Any way!"
"I love you, Millie-doll. I'll never understand you, but I'll always love you."
"And I love you. I love you exactly the way you are."
"Yeah. Sure. You'll make a human being out of me yet, and I'll love you all the time you're doing it."
"I love you the way you are," she repeated herself with gentle insistence. "There'll be no more changing."
He was silent for a time. Then, "You mean that, don't you?"
"Yes!" She said it fiercely. "Now ... any way you want, honey, but fuck me! Now!"
Tom's contented laugh reverberated through the house. "Like you say, puss. Come down here!" And he cuddled her in his arms, his lips rubbery as they plucked at her flesh.
