The sexy young woman looked up at the gray-haired man that stood over her. They were both naked, and that made the whole thing very special to her, the woman thought as she looked at the stiff cock that jutted out from the man's body.
"Slut," the man hissed.
"Yes," she moaned. "Please call me that again."
"Slut."
The man had tied her hands behind her back and now her arms were twitching in wonderful pain as she knelt in front of him, staring at his growing cock with anxious eyes. Would she be able to suck that cock? Would her master let her take that tool in her mouth? She hoped that he would, for she knew that she wanted to taste his wonderful, manful come as it shot down her throat in hot spurts and filled her up with the knowledge that she was getting the punishment that she deserved.
"Lynn," the man said, "I am your husband and I am doing this for you because you want me to, because you enjoy being treated like shit. Don't you enjoy it, Lynn? Tell me again how much you enjoy it when I tie you up and call you names and whip you with my manly belt."
"I love it!" the woman cried, her big breasts moving as she heaved in her excitement. "I love it more than anything else that you do for me!"
"And, after I have tortured you, what do you want me to do then?" the man asked.
"I want you to fuck me," the woman said. "I want you to fuck my slave cunt."
CHAPTER ONE
Elvis O'Toole was a serious young man.
He would visit the local pastors and get new, delux illustrated Bible, all in pretty red and it was illustrated with works of the great masters of art. It was well worth the money. Elvis O'Toole knew that, and he knew that many people would be proud to own such a copy of the Good Book.
When Elvis got to Springfield, Missouri, he called the pastor of the largest Baptist church in town and told him that he would like to sell some of the Bibles to his church-members.
"They ain't some new translation, are they?" the pastor asked over the phone.
"No sir," Elvis assured him. "They are the King James Version of the Bible."
"That's good," the minister said with relief. "I always say that if the King James Version was good enough for the Apostle Paul it is good enough for me."
"Yes sir," Elvis said, cringing a little at the pastor's ignorance. He was happy that he was talking to him on the phone. Elvis knew better than show his displeasure to a minister. It did not pay to rile a man of God, he reminded himself.
"Do you know," the pastor said, "that there is a town named Springfield in every state of the union?"
"No sir, I did not know that."
"It is true. Something to think about, isn't it?"
"Yes ir. Now, about those names."
Finally, the pastor gave the Bible salesman the names of five of his best church-members, people who might be interested in buying the Bible and people who could afford to pay for it in advance. That was part of the deal that the company had made with the firm that wanted to unload the Bibles on the public, and Elvis had been told repeatedly to get the money in advance, cash if possible, a personal check if necessary. But a personal check, he was to remind all buyers, would slow down delivery by four weeks or so. It seems that the firm that Elvis worked for did not trust any Bible buyer in America.
Elvis took the names that he received from the pastor and went out to try and sell his Bibles. One of his possible customers was an old woman who only wanted to talk about how many members of her family had died of cancer in the last decade. , "Don't make no sense," she said to Elvis, "because people years ago didn't die of cancer. They died like they was supposed to die. They died of heart attacks or they was shot by other folks or something like that. But no cancer. No cancer at all."
"Yes, it is strange," Elvis said to the woman. He remembered one of the rules of salesmanship. Never disagree with a customer. Never tell-a customer that you think she is a fool or that you think that she should be put away in a mental institution.
"Know what I think?" the old woman said, leaning toward Elvis.
"What?"
"I think that cancer was given to us by an evil foreign power."
"You mean the Russians?"
"Russians?" The woman seemed shocked that Elvis would even mention such an absurd prospect. "No, my boy, the French. The French has always wanted to take over America."
"Oh. The French."
"Or maybe the people in the Vatican. You know the Pope is the whore ofJBabylon that is written about the book of Revelation. You know that, don't you? But, personally, I think it is the French. Never did like the French at all myself. My husband knew a Frenchman one time and he said you couldn't trust the man. My husband is dead now. Died of cancer six years ago."
"I am sorry to hear-"
"The French killed him, just as sure as I am sitting here."
The old woman did not want to buy a Bible, especially when she saw that some of the artists whose work was in the book had French-sounding names. Elvis tried to explain that the artists were Italian, not French, but the old woman did not care about the difference.
"French. Italians. All the same. Can't trust any of them. You can even trust most people in Switzerland. That is what I hear, and I believe it."
As Elvis left the woman's house with no sale at all, the woman called after him.
"Do you know that there is a town named Springfield in every state of the union," she said.
"Yes," Elvis said wearily, "I know."
"Bet there ain't one Springfield in France," she said, closing the door.
The next person that Elvis met was a man who said that he was not buying anything until after the first of the year. He did not explain why. He just slammed the door in Elvis's face.
The third man, a fellow who ran a hardware store, said that he might be interested in a couple of weeks, but Elvis had caught him at a bad time. He was rushing out of the store to get his teen-aged son out of jail.
The man explained quickly as he got ready to leave.
"They caught Earl again. Exposing himself down on the town square. Damn near gave an old lady a stroke. I don't know what gets into that boy. At one time, I thought that Earl would make a fine preacher, but I doubt that now. I really do doubt it. Preachers ain't supposed to go around exposing themselves, wopping old Mr. Johnny-John out in public and scaring old ladies who are coming out of the Christian bookstore. Don't know why he does what he does at all."
Then the man looked at Elvis and spoke softly.
"I am a good father," he said with a bit of sadness in his voice. "Earl could tell you that if he only would tell anybody anything. He is sixteen years old and I do not believe he has spoken a word for the last two years."
"I am sure you are a good father," Elvis said, feeling a little sorry for the man.
"Don't know why that boy acts the way he does," the man said, rushing out of the hardware store. "See me in a couple of weeks, after Earl's hearing comes up."
Elvis wanted to call after the man, to tell him that he would not be in Springfield, Missouri, in a couple of weeks. He wanted to say that he would probably be in some other Springfield by then. But he did not say anything. He just stood there in the hardware store and felt sorry for the man and for himself.
As Elvis drove out to another person on the list, he felt sick at heart. He had not sold a Bible in days, and he was sure that he would be fired after he returned from this trip. His boss, George Gleason, kept telling him that he had to produce more.
"Produce. Produce, Elvis," Gleason said, sitting behind his desk and patting his fat gut. "Get out there and sell those Bibles and make those people better people because they have a chance to read the words of Jesus in nice, red-lettered type. They will thank you for it in years to come, but first you have to produce."
Elvis knew he was not producing as he should, and, after he had pulled up in front of the house in the little residential area south of town, he sat there for a moment and thought that he would start to cry.
But he talked himself out of weeping. He knew that he had the stuff in him to be a great salesman, if only he could get a couple of breaks. He thought about the man in the hardware store. At least, Elvis thought, he was not standing in the town square, showing his cock to unsuspecting old ladies.
Not that he would mind showing it to a few young ladies that he had met. Elvis had to laugh when he thought about that. For, you see, although Elvis O'Toole sold Bibles, he was not a saintly man. In fact, he did not believe in anything. And he had been believing in nothing for as long as he could remember.
Elvis straightened his tie and picked up his sample Bible and got out of the car. He walked up the pathway to the front door of the house and rang the doorbell.
The young woman who opened the door was certainly not the kind that Earl would like, Elvis thought. He grinned at her.
"Mrs. Lynn Turner?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, her voice soft and a bit husky.
The woman leaned on the door. She was not afraid of Elvis, and she showed it with her grin. She was a sexy young woman with big, firm tits under the T-shirt that she wore. She was wearing jeans too, and her feet were bare. She looked to be about twenty-five or so and her long, dark hair was cut to curve around her face. She looked like a sexy angel, Elvis thought.
Then he remembered that he was supposed to produce.
"I am Elvis O'Toole," he said with a smile, "and your minister gave me your name."
"My minister?"
"Yes. He told me that you might be interested in buying a deluxe edition of this Bible."
Elvis, the good salesman, showed the woman the Bible. He opened it and quickly thumbed through the pages, giving her a glimpse at the work, hoping that that glimpse would tantalize her.
"I wonder," he said, "if I could come in and show you the Bible and tell you about the special offer that we have on this-"
"Sure," the young woman said with a grin and threw the door open to welcome him. Elvis had a vision: he was a soldier home from the war, perhaps even a prisoner of war who had been released after years of terrible but nobling captivity. And this woman was his wife, the woman who had waited for him for all of those years, and she was now welcoming Elvis O'Toole back home, to the home that he had fought to defend, to the home that he had suffered for, to the home that he had dreamed about during all of those years of torture.
Elvis was given to such flights of fancy, and he knew that it hurt his salesmanship, but he could not help himself. He had always had an over-active imagination. ,.
He stepped into the house.
"You will have to excuse the way I look," the woman said. "I was just cleaning. My husband likes the house to be spotless when he gets home from work."
"And what does your husband do?" Elvis asked, remembering another rule of good salesmanship: always be interested in the potential customer.
"He is a professor at the university," the woman said. And then she added with a grin, "He is considerably older than I am."
"Oh."
Elvis did not know what else to say.
The young woman turned and walked into the living room of the house. Elvis followed her, watching her big, sexy ass move inside the tight jeans as she walked. She glanced over her shoulder once, and Elvis almost panicked. He wondered if he had been caught. But then Lynn Turner smiled, and the Bible salesman who believed in nothing knew that, if he had been caught, the woman had not minded catching him.
"Sit down," the woman said, sitting on the big, over-stuffed sofa and patting the area next to her invitingly. "Sit down and show me."
Elvis sat down, wondering what this housewife really wanted to be shown. But he remembered that, as sexy as she was, he had to sell a Bible. He remembered the words of the irate George Gleason, and he wanted to produce and produce.
"This is a special deluxe edition of the King James Version of the Bible," the salesman said, opening the big book to one of the best illustrations, the one of the Last Supper by Leonardo Da Vinci. "It has the words of Christ in special red ink so that they stand out and it is illustrated with-"
"I'll tike it," the woman said with a grin.
Elvis was shocked. He had not expected such an easy sale.
"But, Mrs. Turner," he stammered, "the Bible costs one hundred and seventeen dollars, including tax."
"Okay," the woman said. "Do you want cash or will a check do?"
"Either, but a check with slow down delivery-"
"Oh, that doesn't matter to me. I don't care how long it takes for the fucking thing to be delivered."
"Huh?"
The word shocked even more. Elvis began to tremble. The woman was buying a deluxe edition of the Bible and then she was using that word. It did not make sense.
Then Lynn leaned in close to Elvis O'Toole.
"That is," she said, speaking softly and letting her sweet breath cool his face, "I will buy the Bible if you will let me have some fun with you."
"Fun? What kind of fun?"
The woman ran her hand up the salesman's leg and touched his crotch.
"I think you know what kind of fun I mean," she said with a smile.
Elvis indeed knew just what kind of fun she meant. She meant fucking. Elvis was willing to fuck her. In fact, he knew that he would delighted to fuck her. And she was even going to buy a Bible. Elvis could not believe his luck.
Lynn kept her hand on the crotch of his trousers and brought her lips close to his. They kissed, first softly and then with more passion, as Elvis forced her mouth open with his tongue. He put his arms around her body and held her to him as they sat there on the sofa. When the kiss was over, he wanted to say something to her, something that would be meaningful and lusty, but the only thing that he could think of was what the pastor had told him.
"DO you know," he said with a grin, "that there is a Springfield in every state in the union?"
She laughed a little, her body easing in his arms.
"Yes," she said, "I know that, and I am sick of hearing that bastard say that. He says it every week.
"It seems that to him that very fact holds some revelatory significance, as if it proves that all the Christians in the world are going straight to heaven next Tuesday afternoon at three o'clock."
They were going to fuck. That was understood. So Elvis took time to ask a question about something that was troubling him just a little bit.
"You don't seem to be very religious," he said, "and yet the minister gave me your name."
"He gave you my name because my husband, the old professor, is one of the leading men of the church," the woman explained with a smile. "I love my husband, and therefore I go to church with him. But I don't believe in all that shit."
The woman grinned, but back in her head she knew that she was lying. Lynn knew that the Bible salesman would believe her lie if she fucked him and the truth was too complex and too strange to discuss with this stranger.
She did not even think that the salesman was all that attractive, but he was cute and he was from out of town and, most of all, he was there in her home at the right time. She looked at the clock on the wall. It was two-thirty in the afternoon. She knew that her husband would be home at three.
Lynn wanted her husband to catch her with the Bible salesman. She knew that her husband would do nothing to hurt the young man who now held her in his arms, but she hoped that he would do something to hurt her. Lynn wanted to be hurt very badly.
But Elvis O'Toole, knowing nothing of this, merely kissed the woman's soft lips again and put his hand on her big tits, the things that hung braless under the white T-shirt. Again, he thought about his luck, and he thought about George Gleason's words to him: produce and these people will thank you in years to come. He wanted to make this woman thank him. He wanted to give her the best fucking that he had in him. And he was sure that he would be good. The sexy housewife turned him on so much.
Lynn ran her hand over the crotch of his trousers again. The salesman's prick was getting hard. She did not want him to rip his pants, so she reached down and unzipped his trousers. Elvis sighed as she did that, as if she had just given him a new piece of life, as if she had revived him in a special way.
The Bible salesman wore no underwear. She thought for a moment that that was strange. Her husband always wore undershorts and a T-shirt, even in the hottest part of the summer. But this man was young, she reasoned, and maybe young men did not wear underwear any longer.
Her cool, soft hand reached into his trousers and pulled out his prick. She looked at it and then she looked at the salesman and smiled.
"Very nice," she said. "You are certainly something to see."
"Thank you," the salesman murmured, "but I only get real hard when I see some skin."
She nodded her head. She understood that. Some men like to see the naked flesh of a woman, and she did not mind showing it to this man. He was going to help her anger her husband, and he deserved whatever she could do for him in the next-she looked at the clock-twenty-seven minutes.
Lynn stood up and walked across the living room. She turned on the radio that sat on the mantle, but it was on an all-news station, the one that her husband liked to listen too. She could not dance to a weather report, she thought, so she played with the dial until she found a station that gave her music, the kind of music she wanted, hard music with a steady beat from the drum, like a savage thing that went through her sexy body and made her feel alive. When she found that music, she turned to face the salesman. She grinned at him and he grinned back and then she started to dance.
The sexy, young housewife moved slowly at first, putting her hands on her buttocks and swinging her "hips in a slow, circular motion. She could see by the look on the salesman's face that he enjoyed that. She saw him grin and she saw his hand move to his cock. He touched his prick, played with it, and it started to grow even more. The salesman was very well hung, she thought. She had not expected a prick like that on some guy who sold Bibles door-to-door. She had chosen well, she told herself, very well indeed.
Lynn understood that the salesman, like most men, probably liked a little teasing, and she was a good tease. As she danced, she started to raise her X-shirt up. She showed him bits of her sexy, tanned stomach, but she pulled the garment up slowly. The music had been going for a minute or so before she got the T-shirt up to the point where the salesman could get a glimpse of her tits. Then she slowed down even more, pulling the T-shirt up with bits of hesitation, showing only a little bit of the tits at one time. When it was finally up and over her nipples, the salesman was about ready to go mad with lust. He hammered away on his rod and grinned and then he even put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, like a man at a strip-show. And, in fact, Lynn thought, that is exactly what he was. He was a man at a strip-show and she was the stripper, the paid performer who was trying to give him something to remember on those lonely nights spent in sterile, small hotel rooms. Only in this case, she thought, she was paying for him. This little show was costing her more than one hundred dollars. Lynn wanted to make sure that her money was well-spent.
With a feverish, determined yank, she pulled the T-shirt over her head and let it drop on the floor. She ran her hands over her tits, and she knew from the look on the salesman's excited face that he wanted to run his hands over those tits too. In good time, she thought. All in good time. Soon he would be touching her and fucking her and then her husband would come in. That would be in just-she glanced at the clock again-twenty-one minutes.
Lynn lifted her big breasts up with her hands and stuck out her tongue and licked her own flesh. She could not reach her nipples with her tongue, but she could lick the salty taste that came with her own feverish excitement.
Then Lynn ran her hands down her stomach and put them inside the jeans, feeling her own bush before she showed it to the Bible salesman, feeling her cunt tingle with excitement.
The excited Elvis whistled again.
"Take it off, sweetheart!" he cried with joy. "Show me that pussy!"
And his cock was getting so big!
The woman unsnapped the jeans and pulled them open slowly, to let the man see the hint of the dark bush that was under her white, cotton panties. She could also tell that the panties were already wet, already her cunt was getting ready for this man. And her husband was due to arrive in-she glanced again at the clock-eighteen minutes.
Lynn pulled the jeans down with a passionate jerk, letting them fall to her knees.
Then, as she danced, the fabric snaked down her sexy, tanned legs until she could easily step out of them.
The woman stood before him in her panties like someone who was strangely triumphant, the Bible salesman thought. And she had a right too. She had certainly conquered him.
"Show me the bush!" Elvis O'Toole cried. "Show me that fucking bush!"
Lynn grinned at the man, charmed by his own feverish intensity. She put her hands under the panties and started to move them slowly, inching them down her flesh, showing him first a bit of the dark bush and then a bit more as his cock grew and grew.
Elvis could hardly stand the hot air in the room-the air that was made hot in his mind by his own frenzy. He thought again of Earl, the son of that man who ran the hardware store. If Earl could have a woman like this-if only for an afternoon-he would be cured. He would begin to speak and he would stop exposing himself in front of little, old ladies in front of the Christian bookstore.
Oh, Earl, Elvis thought, you don't know what the fuck you are missing.
Lynn moved the panties down her legs and stepped out of them. She threw him toward the salesman and he caught them and put them to his nose, sniffing her sweet smell of sexual fire.
The housewife continued to dance there in the middle of the room, and Elvis, knowing that his time had come, stood up and started taking off his suit. It was a difficult job for Elvis, because he wanted to keep the panties near his face while he stripped.
But, after much struggling, he had finally completed his chore and his suit lay in a pile at his feet. With exhaustion that came with his excitement, Elvis fell naked back onto the sofa and the housewife danced toward him.
The Bible salesman breathed in more and more of the juicy aroma of her sex as she moved toward him, grinding her hips and spreading her legs and opening her pink pussy for him to see what was in store for him. When she was near the sofa, Lynn fell to her knees and crawled toward him like a penitent slave.
Elvis liked that. He liked knowing that he had some power over the woman who was going to spend more than one hundred dollars just for this afternoon with him, just for the pleasure of fucking him. It made him feel like he could produce anything. It made him feel like God.
Elvis O'Toole loved feeling like God. Then Lynn moved her face over his hard, upstanding prick. She took the cock in her hand and rubbed the juicy tip of the member around the soft flesh of her face. Finally, she kissed it. She stuck out her tongue and gave the head a lick. It was as if she were impaling herself on a strange and beautiful sword, she thought as she started to suck his prick. It was as if she were a martyr for some vague cause that only made sense to her. She felt good and lusty and a little sad at her own demise as she sucked the big tool.
Her lips were so soft and so cool that Elvis could hardly stand it. She was turning him on more than any other woman had ever turned him on, and she was making him climb higher, get harder, than he had ever thought he would be. He put his head on the housewife's dark, soft hair and patted her as a man would pat a dog to show that he was pleased with the dog's actions, the dog's faithful and interesting tricks.
That pat on her head made Lynn feel ever better. There was approval here, she thought, approval for her martyrdom. She went down further on the prick and took it all in her mouth and her throat, "opening her throat by conscious wish to the sword, the deadly instrutment, the one that would cut her apart. Her mind began a whir of desire and death, of sex and salvation.
She lifted her head, easing the cock out of her throat and her mouth slowly and then looked up and smiled at the man who was treating her so well and so badly. She saw him as a Roman soldier, a man who would just as soon kill her as fuck her. And, somehow, Lynn wanted him to do both.
She looked at the clock again. Eleven minutes to go.
She knew that her husband would be on time. He was always on time. That is one reason that she loved him as much as she did.
Lynn crawled slowly onto the salesman's naked body, feeling his cock jab at her flesh like a knife. She slid along slowly, to let the cock cut on as much of the flesh as it could before he made the final cut, the deadly thrust into her martyr cunt.
The Roman soldier grinned down at Lynn. He was happy to be hurting her like this, and she was happy to be hurt.
Lynn lay on his naked body and kissed his harsh, Roman face with her cool lips. The young man groaned, and, in her mind, the groan became a Roman snarl, a harsh tone that became a sound of murder in her ear. Lynn sat up on his body and closed her eyes, like a martyr in prayer, like a woman resigned to her own fate, and she eased herself back onto the salesman's angry, Roman prick.
Elvis O'Toole held the cock up and let her sit down on it, let the cock slip into her wet slit. The housewife shivered and went down on the prick even further, as Elvis held himself erect, excited, long and powerful like something out of the heavens.
Finally, all of his cock was in her, and, in Lynn's mind, as they began to fuck, the cock became a knife that was tearing at her insides, disemboweling her for her beliefs, for ideas that no one else could understand, that no one else even tried to understand.
The Bible salesman began to buck against her, to thrust his cock deeper and deeper in her housewife pussy. This is what he believed in, he thought. This is what he worshipped, this feeling of his cock tight and filled with blood and battering the inside of a woman.
Lynn glanced again at the clock. Five more .minutes. As the salesman fucked her, as she hurled herself back and forth on his prick, as her arms moved up toward the ceiling in a strange dance, the continuation of her strip-tease, she thought about her husband. He would come in and he would find them like this, fucking madly and passionately, and he would have to tame her. He would have to show her that he was the man of the family, that he was in control. Then Lynn would be a martyr to her own husband, as she wanted to be.
She heard the door open and she glanced at the clock. It was funny, she thought. Her husband was actually a few minutes early.
"Oh my God!" the Bible salesman cried for two reasons. He was coming into the woman's juicy box and he was looking at the gray-haired man who stood over them. He had been caught by a church-member, by one of the leaders in the local church.
"Oh my God!" he yelled again, trying to push' the woman off him, trying to free his prick from her cunt. But she would not move. She sat on him with a fierce weight and turned to look at the man who stood there watching him.
"Well, Dick," she said calmly, "you have caught me. I fuck men all the time while you are at work. While you are teaching your students, I am fucking these men, these strangers who come to my door."
The gray-haired man was shaking with anger and his face looked pained, as if his wife had stuck a knife into him.
"Let me up!" Elvis O'Toole screamed at the woman.
And, finally, she began to slowly stand up, easing his withering cock out of her pussy and watching her husband tremble in anger.
When Lynn was finally standing up, the Bible salesman reached for his clothing. He pulled on his trousers and carried the rest of his suit and the Bible with him as he ran for the door.
"Wait!" she called. "I must give you a check!"
"Forget it, lady!" the Bible salesman yelled as he ran out the front door. "Forget it! You don't need a Bible!"
Lynn turned and looked at her husband and they stood there in angry silence until they heard the Bible salesman's car start and squeal away from the curb.
"He sells Bibles," she said to her husband.
"Lynn," the man moaned, almost in pain.
"You have caught me," the housewife said with a little smile. "Now you must punish me for all the wrong that I have done."
CHAPTER TWO
Dick Turner, the gray-haired college professor, stood over his wife and frowned for a few minutes after the salesman had left the house in fear.
Finally, he spoke to her.
"Why do you do it, Lynn?" he asked. "Why do you do things like this when you know how much it hurts me?"
The young, big-titted housewife lay on the sofa and moved her fingers slowly over her body, as if she were still yearning for the fucking. What she was really yearning for was the punishment that she knew that she deserved.
"I do it, Dick," she said with a little smile, "not because I want to hurt you but because I want you to hurt me."
The man turned around and walked out of the room, and, as he left, he muttered, "It just does not make any sense. It makes no sense at all."
He was not going to punish her as she wanted him to do. Lynn knew that. She lay on the sofa and always cried. She wanted to call after him, to try to explain to him again why she deserved the punishment, but she could not explain it to him. She could never even explain it to herself.
All she knew was that she needed this punishment, and she needed it badly.
The housewife closed her eyes and tried to come up with her fantasy again, the one that always thrilled and soothed her. It came to her quickly, because she knew it so well. It had been her favorite for years.
In the fantasy, she was naked and her body ached with little twinges of pain, the kind that she loved the most. And she was carrying something, something very heavy on her back as she struggled to stand up and keep moving through a crowd of angry people.
They were laughing at her and they were spitting on her naked, aching body. The spit sizzled on her flesh in the heat of the day. Several times she stumbled and fell-but then she felt the sharp pain of a whip on her back and she fought to stand up again and travel on.
She was in pain, but she was not frightened. Instead, she felt satisfied, more satisfied than she had ever been before in her life. She knew that she was being tortured for something that she believed, but she was not sure what that something was. And what is was did not really matter to her. All she knew was that she believed it and the people who laughed at her and spit at her did not believe it. They thought that her ideas were foolish and, perhaps, even dangerous to the public fabric, to the order of the universe.
These people hated her, and Lynn, in her fantasy, loved their brutal hatred more than she had ever loved anything else.
The whip on her bare back was cold and sharp, and she could feel the warm blood moving down her flesh. She knew that the blood was her own blood, was her own warmth running from her body and onto the ground in the heat of the day. She shivered as the warmth ran from her, and she wished that she could somehow taste that blood, drink her own blood that rolled down her back. She knew that that blood would be sweet to her tongue, as sweet as a cock, as sweet as a piece of fruit from the tree of life.
The man who hurled the whip onto her back spoke out and asked her the question that he had asked so often.
"Why do you do this, Lynn? Why don't you repent and live like you should live?"
The woman recognized the voice. It was her husband, Dick, the college professor, the man with the gray hair and the great mind who cared about her so much. But she could not answer him. She did not know why her vague idea was so precious to her. She only knew that she could not let it go. She could not repent and live the kind of life that he wanted her to live. She could not, and she would not. Even though she loved Dick, she could not put down the heavy weight that lay on her back. She would have to carry it all the way up the hill.
Yes, she thought, she was traveling up a hill, and, when she got to the top of that hill, she would be able to put the weight down. But her ordeal would not be over then. In fact, it would only be .at its beginning, for Lynn knew that a more special torture waited for her at the top of the hill.
She struggled on, fighting her way through the jeering crowd, trying to make it to the top, yearning for the new torture to begin. And, as she struggled, she cried out in pain and ecstasy.
"I believe! I believe!"
The words seemed to rouse the crowd to greater anger, and the whip that was in her husband's hand fell with more force on her bloody, sweet, bare back. The spit and the dirt that was thrown at her mixed with the blood on her back and sent hot flashes of pain through her body. She tried to concentrate on those flashes, to give them all of her mind so that she would always remember them.
And then, finally, Lynn, the martyr housewife, was at the top of the hill.
She fell under the weight on her back and breathed deeply. She was afraid that she would pass out, but she did not want to do that. She wanted to keep her consciousness. She wanted to feel everything that was about to happen to her.
In her fantasy, Lynn rolled over on her back in the dirt and the pressure on her bleeding flesh gave her a special orgasmic feeling. She ran her hand down her body and pushed her fingers into her loving slit. She was wet-wet with desire and thanks for the punishment that she had received.
Then she saw Dick standing over her with a whip in his hand. He was naked and his dong was erect and ready, more erect than it had ever been in reality, bigger and longer and stronger than any prick that she had ever seen.
"Why do you do this kind of thing to me, Lynn?" he asked, holding the whip high in the air and almost weeping with his own sadness. "Why do you make me do this to you?"
She smiled at him. But that smile did not answer his questions, and he continued in his pleas for some kind of explanation.
"This people all hate you. If you would just repent, Lynn," he sobbed, "then they would love you and they would not hurt you." v "They know not what they do," she mumbled and smiled again. She closed her eyes and rubbed her bleeding back against the ground, relishing the pain that shot through her body like thunderbolts.
When she opened her eyes again, there was many Dicks around her, hundreds of Dicks, all of them with whips and all of them naked and erect and crying because she would not give up her vague idea. They fell on their knees around her and began to snarl, hundreds of snarls coming from hundreds of mouths filled with sharp, little teeth. The teeth were brutal and beautiful to Lynn, the martyr.
The hundreds of Dicks leaned over her and began to nibble on her naked and aching body, baring their teeth and sinking those teeth into her willing and sexy flesh. They took big bites out of her, chomping away and going back for more. They feasted on her body.
Lynn looked down and saw her flesh being ripped away by the teeth, saw the blood flow from the little jagged holes in her, the holes caused by the teeth. The blood covered her with sweetness and the Dicks of her fantasy loved that sweetness. They stuffed themselves with parts of her flesh.
Her big tits were almost gone, almost eaten away and so was her belly. Soon, all that was left of her was her head, her living head that saw everything and felt everything, and her dark-haired cunt, lying there on the ground, pulsing with passion and love for her hundreds of hungry Dicks.
"Take," she moaned. "Eat. This is my body and my blood."
And then, as always, the fantasy ended.
Lynn opened her eyes and looked down and saw her fingers working forcefully in her wet pussy, and then she felt the rushing, the flooding in her body, like the blood that rolled over her flesh in her fantasy, and she came with sighs and jerks and spasms of joy.
After her orgasm, she rested there on the sofa and called out for the husband that she loved-the one man who had become many in her mind just a few moments before.
"Dick!" she called. "Dick! I need you!"
But he did not come to his calling wife. Lynn knew where he was. The professor was in his study, trying to figure out why his young wife did such things, trying to think of a solution to a problem that he did not understand, that she did not understand herself.
Lynn closed her eyes and remembered her childhood, remembered the first time that she had ever masturbated, remembered her father.
Lynn's father had been a minister of the gospel. That is how he always referred to himself, as if he had some special knowledge of God that he had to tell his church-members about. And, when she was a little girl, Lynn had believed that he had a special knowledge. She believed that her father talked to God and that God talked to her father and told him things that God never told anyone else.
But she also knew that her father was stern and wanted his daughter to be a good girl, and, for years, she had tried to be the best daughter that a father could have. But, no matter how good she tried to be, it never seemed to be enough for her father. She always disappointed him in some way. She was an only child, and Lynn thought that, if she disappointed her father, she would make his whole life worthless. She wanted so much for her father to be proud of her, but she was never capable of doing those things that he most admired and respected in others.
And then, in 1968, she had started to play with herself.
She remembered that night in the late spring of 1968 as if it were yesterday. She remembered and she relished what had happened to her on that night and what had happened to the country on that night.
Her father was pastoring a church in St. Louis at the time, and he was known there as a political liberal. When he was not leading his flock at the church, he was making speeches on behalf of his favorite candidate for the presidency, Robert Kennedy.
Lynn had been fourteen years old.
That afternoon, she had been talking to one of her favorite girlfriends, a girl named Mantly. Mantly's parents went to Lynn's father's church, but Mantly had never seemed very religious, and that is one reason why Lynn liked her. She knew that she could tell Mantly anything, and Mantly would never be shocked by anything that she confessed.
That afternoon, as Lynn and Mantly had walked home from school, Lynn had confessed something that she did not really understand at all. She hoped that Mantly would be able to tell her about why she felt the way that she did.
"Lately," Lynn said softly, nervously, as they walked down the sidewalk, "I have been having all kinds of funny feelings."
"What kind of feelings?" Mantly asked. She threw her long, blonde hair back out of her face and smiled at Lynn to let the girl know that anything she told Mantly would be kept secret from the rest of the world.
And Lynn did trust Mantly. The blonde already knew many little secrets and she had told anyone about them. Now, Lynn decided, it was time to tell the girl about the big secret, the secret that she did not even want to tell herself sometimes.
"Well," Lynn said nervously, "I have grown some hair down there."
"Down where?"
"There. You know, Mantly, there."
Lynn was suddenly exasperated by her friend. Didn't Mantly understand anything?
"Oh," the blonde said with a little giggle, "you mean you have grown some hair on your pussy."
Lynn stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, genuinely shocked by the word. She ran the word through her young mind a couple of times. Pussy. Pussy. It seemed nice, like something soft and warm and friendly. She smiled. She liked that word, because it made her feel good. Then she started to walk again. "That's normal," Mantly said. "All girls grow hair down there. It is just a sign that you are becoming a woman. Have you started to bleed yet?"
"Yes," Lynn said.
But this was not really what she wanted to talk about. Her mother had told her that the hair was normal, that the bleeding was normal. But she had not had to courage to ask her mother about the strange feelings that came with the hair and the bleeding.
She wanted to ask Mantly about those feelings.
"Mantly," she said, "lately I have been feeling funny do there, and I have been wanting to touch it, not touch it like I do in the bathtub when I am cleaning it, but touch it and hold it real soft."
"You mean you want to finger-fuck yourself," the girl said, putting the problem in more exact terms, as a doctor would.
Lynn thought about that new term. Finger-fuck. Yes, that was it! That was what she wanted to do!
"Is it all right to want to do that?" she asked her blonde friend.
"Oh, sure," Mantly said, brushing off the question with the tone of her voice. "Most girls finger-fuck themselves. It feels good and it helps you to get to sleep at night. I do it all the time. I especially like to do it in the morning before I have a big test at school. It sort of relaxes me and I do better on the test."
"Really?"
"That's the way it works for me," the girl said, confident of herself and her ability to judge the merits of finger-fucking.
"Wow!" Lynn said. "I have a big test tomorrow!"
"Well, try it, and see if you don't do better on the test than you have ever done before."
That night, Lynn had lay awake in the bed, trying to work up the courage to touch her pussy, to finger-fuck herself. She would run her fingers down to her stomach, but her hand would stop there, as if it were frozen. It would not touch the dark hair that had begun to grow over her slit, and it would not touch her cunt. Lynn wanted to make it go down further. She tried to force her fingers to slide into her pussy, but they would not move. . The girl did not finger-fuck herself that night, and she did not sleep either. And the next day she took the test and failed it.
When she saw the grade that she had made on the test a few days later, she almost cried right in the middle of the classroom If she had only had the courage to finger-fuck herself, she thought, she could have made an A on the test. She knew all the stuff there, but she had not been thinking straight when she had written the answers down.
And now she had to go home and tell her father that she had made an F on the test. And he would be angry with her.
But he was not angry. When she told him about her failure, he had only grunted and turned away.
"That does not surprise me," he muttered.
And then Lynn had cried. She had rushed into her bedroom and wept all night, knowing that her father was never surprised when she did something wrong, for she had always did things wrong. She only wanted to please him, to make him proud of her and proud of himself, but she always failed to do that, and, by now, he was not surprised at her failure. He had grown to expect such things from his stupid daughter, the girl who was even too afraid to touch her own pussy.
Even though she had failed the test, she still passed the course. She passed all of her courses, as she always did. But she did not make the excellent grades that her father deserved from her.
And that summer she spent a lot of time thinking about the finger-fucking, about the way that Mantly had said that it had made her a better student. She had to make better grades, she had to make her father proud of her, and, if finger-fucking could help, she was willing to endure the pain that her fingers would cause in her cunt.
Every night, Lynn lay in the bed, trying to force herself to put her fingers into her hole. She even prayed to God, to her father's personal friend, asking God to give her the strength and the courage to touch her pussy.
And then, finally, one night early that summer, she touched her cunt.
She was immediately surprised that it did not hurt at all. In fact, Lynn discovered that the feel of her fingers on her pussy made her happy and made her think of herself as something soft and cuddly, like a pussy, like a little, furry kitten. She eased her fingers into her slit and felt the dampness there. As she moved her fingers around on the walls of her pussy, the dampness became greater and her mind seemed to stop working. Her universe was centered on her cunt and the feelings that her own hand was giving to her at that moment.
It was late and the bedroom was dark. Lynn was wearing a nightie and a pair of panties, but, suddenly, she wanted to be naked. She did not want anything to obstruct her fingers as they sent her higher and higher in the sky.
"Thank you, God," she whispered in the dark. "Thank you for giving me this."
And then she sat up on the bed and pulled her nightie over her head. She lay back down on the soft mattress and lifted her hips and quickly slipped her panties off. Then she put her wet fingers back into her quivering pussy.
It felt so good, as if she had no problems in the world, as if nothing else existed except her pleasure and her own naked body. Lynn lay on the bed, on top of her sheet and let the night air move across her flesh in the darkness. She touched her tits-the things that were already bigger than most of the tits that she had seen on other girls her age-and that touch felt soft and sweet too. But it was her pussy that felt the best, the fingers that moved and played there in her pussy, giving her a special, mindless joy. She had never experienced anything quite like that before, and she was loving it now.
And she understood why it would help her to make better grades in school. After doing this, you could not be nervous about such a little thing as a test. After experiencing this pleasure, a girl would be ready for anything that high school teachers could throw at her. After knowing this feeling, a girl could not help being smart and witty and beautiful and all the things that Lynn wanted to be in order to make her father proud of her.
In the next room, she saw a light go on, but it seemed to Lynn as if the light was in another universe. She did not stop playing with herself. She could not stop now.
Then she heard her father speak very loudly, moan in pain to God, his personal comrade.
"Oh, God," her father said, "why did You let it happen?"
Lynn wondered what had happened, what had God done to make her father so sad. But she could not figure anything out. She only knew that God had given her the courage to be happy, and she wanted to keep that happiness in her as long as she could. She kept her fingers in her wet pussy and played with it, working her fingers in and out and climbing even higher in her soothing passion.
Then the door to her bedroom came open and the light came bursting into the room,. as if her father had thrown the sun at her.
The man was standing in the door and he was weeping.
"He is dead!" her father cried.
"Who?" Lynn asked, keeping her fingers in her pussy. She could not take them out now. They seemed to be fixed in there for all eternity.
"He has been shot and he will die!" her father moaned.
"God?" the girl asked. "Who shot God?"
"Not God," he glared at her.
"You slut!" he screamed.
"What?" she asked softly, unable to understand anything. Then she asked again, "Who shot God?"
"You worhtless slut!" her father yelled at her again. "Cover yourself!"
Lynn jerked her fingers out of her pussy, jerked them out with such force that she was afraid that they would break off. But they did not break out, and the girl was able to pull up the sheet and hide under it quickly, cover her naked, soothed body from her father's view.
"Slut!" the man screamed again.
Then he began more calm and spoke to his daughter in a hiss.
"I should not be surprised. That is the type of girl you are. Robert Kennedy is dying and you are lying in her, wallowing in filth and in sin."
"Robert Kennedy?" the girl asked. "But you said God-"
The minister was already pulling off his belt.
"I will show you," he muttered fiercely. "I will show you happens to worthless, little sluts."
Her father reached down and pulled the sheet off the bed with a jerk. Lynn did not understand at all. Just a few seconds ago, he had been telling her to cover herself and now he was uncovering her, making her lie naked in front of him with her fingers still wet from her cunt, with the soothing passion of the finger-fucking still in her body.
"He will die!" the man screamed. "I know that he will die!"
And her father, the minister of the gospel, brought the belt down with a smack on her naked, young flesh.
"Daddy!" Lynn cried, as the pain of the belt shot through her flesh.
"He is dying and you fiddle." Her father hit her again and again, making Lynn writhe on the bed. She tried to cover her body with her hands, tried to protect her young skin from the sting of the belt. But it was no use. Her father was beating her with a passionate anger. As she yelped in pain, she tried to explain.
"But God gave me the courage to-"
"Shut up, you slut! Do not even mention God's name!"
Lynn cried in her pain, and through her tears she could see the red marks that the bed was leaving on her body. Soon, she gave up trying to move away from the belt. She just lay on the bed, lay there on the back with her legs open and her arms up, her hands over her face, and she accepted her father's angry blows.
Then the belt hit her pussy. It was quick, and Lynn was sure that her father did not even notice where the belt had landed that time. He was too busying giving her the punishment she deserved. She felt that she was somehow to blame for the shooting of Robert Kennedy, for the death of God. Things got all mixed up in her head.
And the smack on her cunt, the strange, tingling pain that shot through her pussy made Lynn mindless again-mindless as she had been when she was playing with herself. Automatically, without thought, was began to raise her pussy off the bed, her body tensing and her cunt waving in the night air. And then she came with a loud sigh.
When her father saw her movements and heard her sigh, he stopped beating her. She looked at him after the coming was over and she was surprised to see him grinning. Had she suddenly made him proud, to please him so, and give him the honor that he deserved as a minister of the gospel?
But then Lynn realized that her father was not really grinning. He looked insane for a moment as he ran his eyes up and down the girl's naked flesh, and the expressionon his face-the thing that she had thought was a grin-was actually like the snarling expression of a mad dog. Lynn was afraid of her father, truly afraid of him, for the first time in her life.
Then the man dropped the belt on the floor and the expression left his face. He lowered his eyes to the floor and spoke softly to his daughter.
"I am sorry, Lynn," he said. "I am truly sorry. You are a my daughter."
The girl did not know what her father meant, why he was sorry. In her mind, he had a right to whip her with the belt, for she had somehow shot Robert Kennedy and killed God with her wet cunt.
But then she realized that that could not be correct. She closed her eyes and cried. Nothing made sense now, nothing in the world made sense to her.
Lynn wished that her father would leave her alone. Maybe, she thought, maybe if she could play with herself again, things would make sense. At least, she hoped that the soothing feeling she had had would prepare her to live in the mad world of 1968, would make everything all right in her life so that she could spend less time worrying about school and death.
"It is all right, Daddy," she said softly, as if she were confessing something that had been hidden in her heart for years. "I have never made you proud of me anyway."
"Oh, Lynn!"
Her father let the words come out of his mouth in a painful moan, a mournful sound that made the girl open her eyes.
Her father sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his naked daughter up and held her close to him They both cried together, and Lynn felt very safe and very warm for the first time in her life.
"Lynn," her father said softly, choking on his tears, "I am proud of you, Lynn. You are a very pretty girl and you will make someone a nice wife someday. I know that."
"But, Daddy, I have not done anything to make you happy and proud of me," she said, trying to explain the emptiness that had settled inside her body like a cold deserted room.
The minister held his daughter at arm's length and looked at her with a smile.
"Yes, you have, Lynn," he assured her. "Remember when you were six years old and you stood up in front of the whole church and recited the Twenty-Third Psalm? I was very proud of you then."
"Really, Daddy?"
"Really, Lynn."
She pulled her father to her body again and held him as he held her. It was not much, only one thing that she had done when she was six years old, but it was enough for Lynn. She knew that she had made her father proud at least once in her sluttish life.
And then the girl began to recite the psalm again, trying to recapture the past moments, the ones that had been so important to her father. f I
"The Lord is my shepherd," she whispered to her father. "I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down-"
And she kept reciting the famous words, the ones that made her father proud. She spoke them slowly and softly, as if they were very important to both of them. And those words were important. Tonight, with her sad father, those words were words of love.
She got to the line that said, "Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."
And then her father suddenly did something that shocked her but something that almost made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before.
Right after she had said that the rod and the staff comforted her, her father kissed on her the lips, kissed her with love and with passion. As he kissed her, he put his hand on her bare tit and squeezed it.
Then he jumped up and looked at her again.
"Oh, God!" he cried in anguish. "My own daughter!"
"Daddy," she said softly, trying to assure him that it was all right, that she had not minded his kiss, that she loved him and loved making him proud of her.
But he did not seem to hear her. He looked at her as she sat there naked and cried out.
"Slut!"
The minister turned and rushed from the room, screaming something about the daughters of Lot and slamming the door behind him.
In the darkness of the room, now that her father had taken the night sun away with him, Lynn shook with dismay and confusion. What had happened here? What had her father done to her? He had kissed her, yes, but she enjoyed that kiss. She liked the feel of her father's lips on her own and his strong arms around her naked back. Tbat experience had filled her with life and had made her feel feverishly good. It had not soothed her as the finger-fucking had done. It had made her brain come alive with desire and burn with many strange new emotions.
And, now that she thought about it, the blows of her father's belt on her body had made her feel much the same way, had made her feel like some beautiful, burning thing. It all became linked in her mind-the kiss and the belt and the strange new excitement and the Twenty-Third Psalm with its rod and its staff that comforted her, the sheep that belonged to God himself.
Lynn lay back in the bed and tried to figure these things out, but they would not come untangled her, and it gave her a headache to try to think so much about such complex emotions.
So, instead of thinking, Lynn just lay on the bed and ran her fingers down her body again. She needed the soothing now more than ever. NShe needed the coming and the strange, mindless feeling that came when her fingers fucked her.
But this time it was different. As her fingers entered her, juicy slit, Lynn thought about the way that the belt had felt when it had landed there. It had been her father's bed and it had made her come with a strange and savage delight. She tried to regain the heat that that belt had caused in her body and her mind. She tried to regain the heat so that she could come again.
And the heat, the stinging heat, did come back to her cunt as she fingered herself, and Lynn started to moan with desire and sadness and guilt and thoughts of rods and staffs that would comfort her all the days of her life.
As she came this second time, she purred the words in the dark room, spoke to her father and to God and to the universe.
"I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever," she said.
And that thought made her suddenly peaceful.
After her second orgasm, Lynn reached down and picked up the sheet and spread it over her naked, young body and closed her eyes.
She slept and dreamed of good shepherds who cared for their sheep, who protected their sheep, and who made their sheep good sheep with rods and staffs.
CHAPTER THREE
Summers in Springfield-the one in Missouri-are hot and humid and the air seems to drown a person when he tries to breathe.
That is what Lynn Turner thought the next day as she sat in a chair in her the back yard of her house, and she knew that it would only get worse. The summer had hardly begun. It was only June.
Lynn did not even know for certain why she liked to sit outside in the afternoon heat. She could really say that she was getting some sun, for she wore her T-shirt and her jeans. And she was not very comfortable. She sat in a straight-backed kitchen chair in the middle of the grass and let the hot air moved past her slowly. But, since she had been a teen-ager, she had wanted to sit like this in the heat. Maybe, she thought, she was preparing herself for Hell.
Dick had not spoken to her the night before and he had slept in the guest bedroom He always did that for a couple of days after Lynn asked him to punish her. It was as if he did not understand how to speak to his wife, as if they suddenly spoke different languages that neither could comprehend. Lynn hated that. She was lonely without Dick talking to her, but she hoped that one day he would explode in passion and anger and make everything all right by whipping her and treating her the way that she wished to be treated. She hoped and prayed that that day would come soon. And she determined to do everything in her power to make sure that it would come soon. She wanted the punishment so badly that she felt as if the needs in her body were building up in her. If she did not receive punishment soon, she thought that she would burst wide open and spill her needs all over the world.
Dick had left early that morning, and Lynn knew that he was not going to go directly to the university. First, he would go to visit the pastor of the church, that idiot who always talked about strange signs from God that made Springfield into a blessed place to live. Dick always went to see the pastor on days after Lynn had asked for punishment. He always went to get the pastor's advice, but the pastor never had any advice to give. He would just tell Dick that his crazy, young wife needed to get closer to God" and, until she did, Dick would have to bear with her. Lynn was Dick's special cross and he had to bear it with Christian love and good feeling, the pastor would say. What the pastor did not understand-what he could never understand because he was so fucking stupid-was that Lynn was close to God, closer than almost anyone else in the world. She just wanted to be punished so that she could make herself even closer to her Maker. But she could not tell the pastor that. She could not tell Dick that. If. she did, she knew that they would both agree that she was insane, and they would put her away in some hospital, where she would rot and where she would never find the peace that she desired.
Peace. That is all that she wanted. She wanted to regain the peace that she had felt that night after her father had whipped her, that unthinking peace that made her feel like a child again-her father's good, little girl who had made the man proud when she recited the Twenty-Third Psalm in front of all those people.
And Lynn hoped that, someday soon, Dick would help her find that peace by beating her and giving her the punishment that she desired.
Until then, she would just have to make do with these little punishments she gave herself, like the afternoons spent sitting so uncomfortably in the hot, humid air of the back yard.
Lynn was sitting there in the chair when she saw the boy next door come out of his house and walk toward his garage.
His name was Jeff, and he was blonde and handsome and muscled. He was sixteen years old and he would be a senior in high school the next year. He reminded Lynn of all the boys she had known when she was in high school, boys that she had wanted to date, wanted to fuck. But they had never even asked Lynn out, and, even if they had asked her out, her father would not have let her go with them. Her father was very stern and he did not want his daughter dating boys until she was eighteen years old.
Even then, eighteen seemed like a very old age to Lynn, a very late age to start dating. Now it seemed like her father had wanted to keep her in the house forever.
But Lynn had followed her father's wishes, for she knew that one reason why he did not allow her to date was the night that he had found her playing with herself, the night that he had beaten her and he had kissed her. She knew that her father remembered that night every time that he looked at his daughter, and she knew that her father knew that she was sexy.
So Lynn had not dated until she went to the university in town, and there she had met Dick. They had gotten married during the summer before her junior year and she had dropped out of college to take care of her husband's home.
She had only fucked one man in her whole life until a couple of years ago. She had only fucked Dick until she had discovered that fucking other men made him angry. Perhaps this was the way that she could get him to punish her, she thought, and, since then, she had tried to fuck as many men as she could. She also tried to let Dick catch her fucking the men, and he often did. But he never really punished her. He would just get that hurt look in his eyes and he would walk away and not speak to her for a couple of days.
The adultery had not worked, so Lynn had to think of something new, something else that might anger her husband, that might make him explode with passion and punishment.
As she saw the boy walk across the yard, heading for his garage, Lynn had the idea. If she could not get the punishment from her husband, perhaps she could get it from some other man. It would not mean as much to her as torture from her husband, she thought, but it might be enough to keep her sane for the summer.
And this young man, Jeff, seemed like a logical candidate.
Lynn stood up and walked slowly across the yard, feeling the perspiration run down her body. She stood at the fence that separated her property from the house next door and she looked into the garage.
When Jeff had walked to the garage, he had been wearing only a pair of cut-off jeans, and they were cut very short. Now, Lynn saw the bulge in the crotch of those jeans, a bulge that she had not noticed before. Jeff was quite a man, she decided with a smile. He was in the garage, lifting weights, hoisting a heavy bar over his head as his body tensions with the exertion and his face grew red with the strain. He breathed those his mouth as he held the bar over his head. Then he let the bar drop onto the garage floor.
"Very good, Jeff," the woman said, and those words got the boy's attention.
"Oh, Mrs. Turner," he gasped, still trying to get some air into his lungs after his weight-lifting ordeal. "How are you?"
"Hot," she said, wondering if Jeff could catch the double meaning of her word. She grinned at him and tilted her head. "You are very strong, Jeff," she said.
"I like to keep in shape," he said with a grin and then he let his muscles flex in his body, showing off. All teen-aged boys are show-offs. Lynn knew that, but she also knew that this boy had something to be proud of. He was in excellent shape. He was a handsome, sexy lad. Lynn thought of her husband's body, thin and a bit frail and covered with gray hair. She had liked Dick's body, but it had never really excited her as this boy's body excited her now. She wanted to jump across the fence and run to Jeff and touch that healthy, huge thing that bulged in his crotch. She wanted to run her hands over his muscled, hairless chest, and she wanted to touch his young face lightly with her fingers. Lynn wondered if this boy found her attractive. Maybe he had never even considered her to be a sexual being, she thought. She had been Mrs. Turner to him for years, but now she wanted to be something else. She wanted to be a woman that he would fuck with his young, handsome rod.
"Would you like to talk for a while, Mrs. Turner," the boy said with a grin. "My parents are gone, and this weight-lifting stuff can get pretty boring on a hot summer afternoon like this one."
"Sure," Lynn said, and she opened the gate between the two yards and walked across the soft grass toward the garage. Jeff had cut that grass, and now it felt wonderfully cool and pleasant under her bare feet.
Lynn stood at the front of the garage and studied the handsome boy at close quarters. She was sure that he was attracted to her. Why else would he invite her over to talk? Why else would he stop his weight-lifting right in the middle of the regimented exercise? Why else would he add casually that his parents were not at home?
Lynn stood at the front of the garage and let Jeff study her too. The way that he glanced at her, the look in his young eyes, made her suddenly proud of her body. The housewife wanted to dance for him, just as she had danced for the Bible salesman, but, more than that, she wanted him to fuck her. She wanted him to torture her with his young and mighty cock.
"I have never asked you this, Jeff," she said, "but what are you planning to do when you get out of high school?"
She stepped closer to him as she spoke and watched the boy spread his legs a little bit. The young man gave his crotch a quick pat and saw that her eyes followed his hand. He also saw that her eyes stayed on the crotch of his short cut-offs as he told her his plans for life.
"I guess that I will go to college," he said, almost shyly. "I want to get a law degree and then I want to go into politics."
She grinned at him.
"I am sure you would be very good in politics, Jeff," she said truthfully. "You might even be a senator or even president some day."
The boy blushed and told the woman his secret plan.
"I don't want to be president," he said. "I want to be vice-president."
"Really?" The woman was intrigued. "Why vice-president, Jeff?"
"Well, " he said, "I like the fact that nobody bothers the vice-president."
The woman laughed, thinking of the irony of the boy's wishes. He wanted to be in politics, but he did not want to be bothered.
Then Jeff explained.
"Maybe you have heard the old joke that a vice-president once told about two brothers.
He said that one of the brothers ran away to be a seaman and the other became the vice-president and neither was ever heard from again."
Lynn laughed again, but she kept her eyes on the boy's bulge. That was what she was most interested in.
"You see," Jeff continued in his explanation, "unless you are unlucky enough to have the president die on you, you don't have to do anything as vice-president. And who remembers vice-presidents and what they do. I mean, you could be the worse scoundrel in the world and nobody would care unless the president died."
"You are so right, Jeff," the woman said, remembering all the scoundrels who had been vice-president during her lifetime.
"I am making a study of vice-presidents," Jeff said. "I just finished reading a biography of John Nance Garner. He was Franklin Roosevelt's vice-president and he said that the office was not worth a pale of warm piss."
Lynn laughed again. This handsome boy was a storehouse of interesting political knowledge. She was happy to discover that Jeff was also intelligent, for she did not want to thank that she would lust after a stupid, sexy boy.
But Lynn was tired of listening to his talk about vice-presidents. As interesting and as funny as his stories were, they were no substitute for fucking and for punishment. She thought for a second, her mind racing over the options that she had. She wanted to figure out quickly how she could get this boy to punish her. She knew that she would have to no trouble getting him to fuck her. He obviously wanted that already, but the punishment was a more difficult assignment. Then the housewife decided that she would have to take the whole process one step at a time, and now it was time for her first step.
She moved close to Jeff and raised her hand and ran it across his sweaty, young chest.
"I am sure that you will make a wonderful vice-president," she murmured, not really meaning to say that. What she wanted to say was that she wanted to fuck him badly, but she guessed that Jeff would get her message. He would get it from the touch, even if he did not understand her words.
And the boy did get the message. He put his hands on Lynn's shoulders and pulled her near him and kissed her. Her hand stayed on his chest, crushed between their hot, sweaty bodies as they kissed and as Lynn opened her mouth to Jeff's tongue. The woman liked that, she liked the discomfort that came with the kiss and the feeling that her hand was melting between their bodies. And the boy did not seem to notice what he was doing to her. He did not seem to care. That made it so much better, Lynn thought. That meant to her that she could convince this young man to hurt her just a little bit.
As they kissed, Jeff moved his hands down her back and then moved them up again, under her T-shirt, feeling her hot, soft flesh with his hands. And, with her free hand, Lynn touched Jeff's soft, blonde hair. It felt so fine and so thick at the same time, and it felt strong too, as Jeff was strong, as the man who would control her had to be strong.
Then she pulled away from Jeff and took his hand and led him out of the garage. Though his parents were not home, she did not want to fuck in his house. She wanted to fuck this boy in her own bed-the bed that she usually shared with Dick. Then, perhaps, Dick would come home and find them fucking and that added hurt, the fact that they were fucking in his bed, would cause her husband to finally admit that he was angry enough to punish the young woman that he had married. At least, Lynn hoped and prayed that that would be the case.
The young housewife and the teen-aged boy went through the gate and walked across her back yard and into her house.
As they walked through the house, heading for the bedroom, Jeff broke the silence.
"Let's shower together," he said with a grin to his new lover. "Let's get clean together."
"All right," Lynn agreed with a soft, whispery voice, the kind of voice she would use with a beloved tormentor.
The bathroom was next to the bedroom, and, as they walked through the bedroom, they both glanced a big, comfortable bed. The house was air-conditioned and the bed looked cool and good. Both Jeff and Lynn smiled, knowing that, soon, they would be together on that bed, fucking with all their might and using up their youth in the way that young people were meant to do.
And Lynn was already forming a vision in her head, fitting Jeff into her own special passion play.
In that vision, he was a Roman soldier, a young man who had been assigned to guard her. She was a dangerous woman, the young man had been told, and she would be put to death in a most gruesome way very soon. She was in a cell, and he was on the other side of the bars, marching back and forth, keeping her from escaping and keeping others from talking to her, from being infected with her vague but terrible idea and belief. But, as he marched back and forth, doing his duty for Rome, he slowly fell in love with her as she lay there in the cell, naked on a straw mat. She could see his eyes move over her body as he guarded her and she could see that his cock was growing under his short tunic.
And then one day she decided to seduce her Roman soldier, to have one bit of pleasure before the ultimate pleasure, before her execution. She stood and looked at him. She did not say a word. Perhaps, she thought, they did not even speak the same language. But they would speak the same language with their bodies and with their eyes. They would speak together in a language of lust. Lynn, the martyr, began to run her hand over her naked, sexy, doomed body. She kept her eyes on the young soldier as she ran her hand down and slipped her fingers into her cunt, and, when she did that, the soldier stopped marching and stood and looked at her as she pursed her full lips and beckoned him silently.
She would know then that, although she was the prisoner, she had captured one of her captors. Although she was the martyr, she would bring new life to this soldier, this handsome boy. He held up his hands and tried to show her that he did not have the key, that he could not get into her cell to fuck her as he wanted to do. But she knew that that did not matter. She knew that that Roman cock would be hard and strong and long. She walked toward the bars and pressed herself against the cold metal and opened her cunt to him. The bars chilled her naked body and she pressed herself closer to them, caressing the metal that sent the cold spasms through her and wanted to heat them with the lust in her martyred, sexy flesh. And then she watched as the young soldier threw off his armor and his tunic and dropped his sword and spear and came toward her, his cock hard and long and noble, as a captor's cock should be.
He plunged into her and they fucked through the bars. He put his strong hands through the little openings between the metal bars and grabbed her head and pulled her face toward the hard, cold things. As they fucked, Lynn could feel the bones in her nose, her face crushing against the bars, and she loved her soldier guardian more than ever before.
All of that fantasy came to her as she took off her clothes. When she was naked, standing in the bathroom, she came back to the real world and looked down at Jeff's prick. He was naked too and his cock was long and heavy against his thigh, just the was that she knew that it would be.
Lynn reached into the shower and turned on the water, testing it with her hand to make sure that it was just a little cool. Then she stepped in, feeling the water hit her naked flesh that thousands of little knives, and she held out her hands to the boy, beckoning him to join her.
The noble Roman boy did join her, and, when he was in the shower, he took her in his arms and kissed her again, their naked bodies pressing together in the water, her softness against his hardness, her martyred flesh against his killer muscles. Lynn was delirious with joy.
They turned in the shower as they kissed, letting the cool water hit them from every angle, but they kept together, kissing and pressing against each other, untjl the movements became a twirl. On the wet floor of the shower, they were like skaters, two trained people on the ice and passionately in love. Jeff commanded the movement and he turned faster and faster until Lynn began to grow dizzy with the joy and the movement, until she thought that she would lose her balance and go tumbling down into some strange oblivion.
But Jeff held her, protected her with his strong, young arms, as they twirled in ecstasy, as they moved so beautifully and freely in the shower.
And then they stopped and the water from the shower was beating down on her head. Lynn tilted her head back and held it there, under the water, drowning just a little bit, she thought, and wondering if Jeff would pull her away from the peril.
He did not. He did not care if she drowned there in his arms. He just kissed her throat and the tops of her full and soft breasts as the water rushed over her face, blocking out the air that gave her her terrible ordeal of life.
When Lynn finally pulled her head up, finally saved herself from drowning, she knew that this boy was just right for her. He would torture her if she desired such torture. He would do anything that would give her pleasure, because he did not care about her at all. To this young, muscled man, she was only the woman next door, the housewife who was good for one afternoon's fucking. She did not deserve any special treatment, any special consideration, and the knowledge that this boy felt that way made Lynn shiver with her excitement. It made her want to fuck him all the more.
He was the Roman soldier and she was the martyr, but, before she was killed, she wanted to be his slave.
Jeff reached over to the side of the shower and turned off the water. Then the two stood there for a moment, wet and loving and naked and felt each other's bodies.
It was then that Lynn spoke to him, spoke to him in a whisper, told him the dark secret of her filthy, little soul.
"Speak harshly to me," she said. "I want you to treat me like shit."
The young man looked at the sexy, young housewife, and his grin died on his face. He understood exactly what she wanted. Jeff had heard about such women, women who wanted to be treated badly by their lovers, women who wanted to be subjected to abuse. He could do that, he thought, and he could continue to do it all of his life. Even if he became vice-president, no one would really care if he treated women like shit. No one would notice him at all.
He spoke to her, and his voice was deep and husky. It came from the back of his throat, like a growl, an angry sound that filled her heart with hot joy.
"Bitch," he said. "You are only good for fucking."
Lynn pressed her hot, blood-filled face to the young man's Roman chest.
"Yes," she murmured. "More. More."
"You are worthless scum," he hissed. "More."
"You are a filthy cunt."
"More."
"You are a piece of garbage."
"More."
"You are not good enough for my cock."
"More."
"You are a slut." That was it!
That was the word that his father had used with her so many years before, and that word coming from this noble, young Roman made her cunt quiver with excitement. She felt her love juices pouring from her snatch and down her leg.
"Say that again," she murmured.
"Slut."
"Again."
"Slut."
"Again!"
"Slut!"
"Again!"
"Slut! You fucking slut! You worthless, mangy slut! You no-good, cock-sucking, garbage-filled slut! You smelly, rat-eaten slut!"
"Yes!"
"Slut!"
Jeff's cock was throbbing against her body, rising and jerking with passion and with anger, and Lynn was holding on to him, feeling that Roman blade against her flesh and hearing his curses. She loved his curses, and they filled her with heated delight.
Holding Lynn tightly in his arms, Jeff pushed her back against the tile wall of the shower and pressed all of his weight against her, crushing her with his power
"Oh, yes!" the woman cried, feeling his cock stiffen even more as he held her there, as she tried to breathe in the dank showever, as the cold tile chilled her lustful flesh.
"Slut," his harsh voice hissed again.
If this sexy woman wanted this kind of treatment, Jeff decided, he could give it to her. He did not mind at all. In fact, he discovered quickly that he liked it. He liked being in control of this big-titted, beautiful housewife. He liked knowing that she would do anything that he ordered her to do. He liked knowing that he was her master and she would be willing to submit to his every desire.
Then the young man let her go and moved away from her. He looked at her and sneered.
"You are shit, slut," he muttered distastefully. "You are nothing but fucking shit."
"Yes," she agreed softly, her eyes closed in passion and her lips open, "I am fucking shit."
Jeff reached out and touched her dark hair. It was wet. He grabbed a batch of the hair and pulled her out of the shower. She went with him as he pulled her into the bedroom. Then the young man used his strength to fling her onto the floor.
"Slut," he snarled again. "Crawl to me, slut."
Lynn was almost ready to cry with happiness. This young man was ideal for her. He got into the act so easily and he cursed her with such enthusiasm. She raised herself onto her hands and knees and began to crawl toward him slowly.
"Crawl like a dog, you suit," he muttered.
And his words filled her with more delight. When she was near him again, he reached down and pulled her hair and jerked her up so that she was looking at him.
"I could kill you if I wanted to, you slut," he said, "and nobody would care. Your friends would not care and your husband would not care. He would just go out and find himself a new slut to fuck. And I would just go out and find myself a new slut to fuck and kill. You are worthless. You are less than worthless. You are shit and you stink to high heaven."
"Yes," Lynn muttered, her eyes filling with tears.
"You stink up the whole world."
"Yes."
Naturally, she thought, the young Roman soldier would not understand her belief. Naturally, he would ridicule her for her idea that so threatened the world. Naturally, he would want her to know that he was in charge. And he could kill her if he wished. Who would mind? The Caesars? They would not mind at all? The high priests of the church? They wanted her dead too. Lynn knew that she had no recourse. She must die for her belief, but she could not die before this Roman soldier wanted her to die. He would even have control over that.
"Suck my cock, you shitty slut," Jeff growled at her, "and make it good. Make it the best cock-sucking that you have ever done."
"Yes, master," Lynn said softly, "the best cock-sucking that I have ever done."
Jeff let go of her hair and Lynn moved in close to him. She took his stiffening, young cock in her hand and held it softly, watching it grow even harder and longer with her touch. She studied the red head of the prick and then she stuck out her tongue and gave it a quick lick. In her mind, the cock was a blade and her was cutting her tongue. In her mind, she could taste her own sweet blood that flowed from the cuts. In her mind, she was in agony and in rapture.
Lynn pressed her face close to the cock and ran it up and down on her face, letting it move across her skin, cutting it with its sharpness. Then she pulled away from the dangerous weapon and opened her mouth and went back and took the sword, the meaty, hard thing, into her mouth. She clasped her lips around the head of the prick and sucked on it. She felt the boy twitch with delight as she started her martyred work on his rod.
Her mouth is so soft, Jeff thought, and she knows how to use it so well. Jeff wondered why Linda, his girlfriend, had never sucked his cock like this, had never given him that kind of passion, that kind of excitment. But, immediately, he knew that his excitement had grown because of his control over the woman, because of the words that he had used to curse her, because he had never experienced such a role before in his young life. Linda did not like to have Jeff in complete control of her and that lessened his joy. He knew that now, and he wanted this woman to keep sucking his cock for all time. It felt so much better than when Linda, his equal, his girlfriend, sucked on his prick.
In her mind, Linda could feel the cold bars that separated her, the prisoner, from Jeff, the Roman guard. They were especially cold on those places where the young man had cut her with his prick-sword. In her mind, in her fantasy, her face was bleeding, and she was losing her life in little drops as she sucked on the cock, trying to keep life in the prick and in her at the same time.
Lynn went further down on the prick, taking more of it into her and feeling it pound against the back of her throat, feeling the world end for her in that thrilling way as her mind was destroyed by a giant bang. His prick was so young and yet so ruthless, so clean and yet so cruel. She knew that she would love this feeling always in her memories.
"Suck it, slut," he muttered, his voice coming from back in his throat as his body moved in sexual passion. And then Jeff grabbed Lynn's dark hair and held her head while he began to fuck, while he jabbed his sword cock deeper and deeper down her lusty throat. He was fucking her mouth, and Lynn dropped her arms to her side and opened her mouth and let him fuck, let him control her as she stayed in this slave-like position, on her knees and completely open to his huge, young, Roman rod.
"I could kill you, slut, and no one would even care."
The words made the shots in her head go out even more quicker. In her mind, she could see the last light of her own life, the flames of the fire that would engulf her or the sun from the teeth of the lions that would eat her in the arena. She did not know which. She did not care. She merely hung on, giving her last thoughts to her precious, vague belief.
And then Jeff pulled his cock out of her mouth and grabbed it and whipped it back and forth a couple of times until he came.
He came in gooey spasms, and his white semen shot against her face. Lynn opened her mouth and a little of the stuff fell onto her tongue, but the rest of the come-what seemed to be gallons and gallons of young, Roman come to her-went into her dark hair and onto her soft face.
As Jeff came, in the back of her mind, Lynn heard the front door open.
The boy heard it too.
And they both knew what the opening door meant.
"Oh, shit," Jeff sighed. He ran for the bathroom and picked up his cut-off jeans. Running back into the bedroom, searching for a place to escape, he held the cut-offs in his hand. Then he saw the window at the side of the room. He ran toward it and opened it with a jerk. Jeff dived out the window into the shrubbery. Lynn heard the boy yelp as the thorns of the bushes jabbed into his young, male flesh.
She could help herself. She giggled.
And then she turned to see her husband standing over her. Dick could see the come that was drying on face and hair.
"Hello, Dick," the woman said. "My lover, a young stud, just jumped out the window. If you rush over there and look, maybe you can. see him running naked through the back yard."
But Dick did not move. "Now will you punish me, Dick?" Her husband did not say anything. '('For God's sake, Dick," Lynn cried, "I deserve some fucking punishment!"
"Why, Lynn, why?"
But he did not wait for an answer. He just turned and walked out of the room, moving slowly and sadly, as if his wife had Just threatened his life.
Lynn closed her eyes and took a deep breath and started to sob.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next night, as Jeff drove to visit his girlfriend, Linda, at her house, he thought about the woman next door.
Tonight, he would fuck his girlfriend, because she would expect him to fuck her. She would be all alone in the house and she would want to spend those few private hours in bed with Jeff. And it would be good sex. Jeff knew that. But he also knew that it would not be as good as the sex with Lynn, the woman who wanted so much to be dominated. That sex had been terrific, although it had been cut short by her husband's arrival in the house. And tonight with Linda would be nothing to compare with that hot afternoon with Lynn.
Lynn and Linda, he thought. The names sounded similar, but they were so different. Linda, his girlfriend, wanted to be his equal. She was demanding and willful. Lynn, the woman who lived next door, wanted to be his slave. She would do anything that Jeff wanted her to do, and she loved it when he cursed her and forced her to perform acts that he would enjoy.
The young man had heard about women like that, but he had never met one before, and he had never even suspected that Lynn, the young wife of the professor who lived next door, would be one of those women. He wondered for a moment how many other women that he knew wanted their men to be so brutal with them. He thought about high school teachers who had stood in front of classes and had demanded his attention to their boring lectures. Maybe Miss Grigsby, the history teacher, liked to go home and let her husband tie her up and curse her. Jeff had to laugh as he tried to visualize that. Miss Grigsby bound, her old tits sagging through the ropes, her dry, boring mouth stuffed with a gag. It would be wonderful if it were true, he thought, absolutely wonderful.
But Jeff had' to stop thinking of bound women and brutalized women, he thought. He was going to visit Linda, who wanted to be the equal to all men.
And, in many ways, Jeff knew that he liked Linda because she wanted to be his equal. She was pretty and intelligent and witty and she was very experimental in bed. He felt proud when they went anywhere together, proud to have such a woman on his arm. But he just wished that she would be more willing in certain ways, more weak and more submissive to his desires. After that afternoon with Lynn, that afternoon of discovery for Jeff, the young man wondered if he could ever again feel comfortable and completely turned on by the equal and passionate Linda.
He smiled. He guessed that he would find out tonight.
Linda's family lived on a quiet, residential street, much like the one that Jeff and his family lived on. As he drove down that street, he wondered how many women inside those nice houses were begging their husbands to curse them and grab them by the hair and fling them across the room. Probably a lot more than Jeff could even imagine. He felt that many women probably had such secret desires.
He pulled into the driveway of Linda's home. Her father was a businessman and her parents were always having to go to banquets and suppers. On those nights when thedy were gone, Jeff and Linda would make equal and very good love on Linda's wide, soft bed. They had never been caught. Jeff sat in the car for a second before he turned off the motor and wondered what he would do if they were caught some night, if Linda's parents came home early and found them fucking away in her bedroom. Would he dive for a window naked as he had done the other afternoon? He had to laugh at himself, and he tried to picture in his mind how he looked, a young, naked boy jumping into bushes and yelping in. pain and he ran from one house to another.
Jeff chuckled as he got out of the car and walked to Linda's front door. He rang the doorbell and waited for her to answer it. She always made him wait just a little bit. That was one of the ways that his girlfriend showed her independence. Jeff had not minded it before, but, tonight, after his afternoon with Lynn, he suddenly became very angry. Why wasn't she there at the door, waiting for him, yearning for him? Why didn't she show that part of herself?
The young man was about to bang on the door when his girlfriend opened it.
"It is about fucking time," he muttered as he walked by her into the hallway of her home.
Then he turned to look at the young girl, and his anger vanished, replaced by good, old-fashioned, youthful lust.
Linda was a thin, sexy girl with firm, little tits and long, black, shining hair, and tonight she was wearing a halter-top and shorts. She was tanned, and her full red lips were pursed in a half-smile as she looked at her boyfriend.
"What are you so angry about?" she asked, sounding interested in this change in Jeff's usually complacent personality.
"Nothing," he said, knowing that he was blushing. "Nothing at all."
Then she came to him and let him take her in his arms and the two young people kissed. Like Jeff, Linda was seventeen. She would be a senior in high school in the fall and she planned to go to the university after she graduated. To Jeff's knowledge, she had never fucked any other boy, but, suddenly, he wondered about that. She was so good in many ways, even the first time that they had made love. She could not have been a virgin on that night, could she?
But then Jeff decided that it probably did not matter if she had been a-virgin or not. In fact, he did not even care if she fucked other guys now-now that she was his girlfriend. All he cared about was the fact that, on these nights, when they were alone in her house, they went to bed and fucked like strong, young animals. That was the most important thing, he decided.
Linda, kissing her boyfriend, sensed something new in him. He was holding her more tightly than he usually did. He was almost crushing her with his strong, young arms. But she was surprised to discover that she liked this new strength in Jeff. It made her feel warm and secure with him, as if nothing in the world could harm her.
But then she moved away from him and he opened his arms and let her stand back. She took his hand and they walked slowly, silently to the bedroom.
She had tried to vary the sex a little bit, for she did not want it to become too boring for either of them, but there was still a ritual, a nice ritual that they went through every night before they fucked, and this silence was part of the ritual. Neither Jeff nor Linda wanted to break the sexy mood in the quiet house with speech, with discussions about how their days went or school or plans or anything like that. They wanted to fuck first. Then, if there was anything that they had to talk about, they would talk.
When they got to the bedroom. Linda turned on the lamp by the bed, the one that spread a nice, soft glow over the room. In that glow she turned to look at her sexy, blond boyfriend. This was part of the ritual too. She liked to look at him. She liked to watch him flex his muscles and she liked to see him strip.
Jeff understood the ritual too, and he followed it without a word. Tonight, he was wearing a T-shirt that fit tight across his muscled chest. He pulled the white T-shirt up and off, mussing his blond hair a bit with his movement. Then he stood there for a for seconds and let Linda look at the muscled chest that she had seen so often, the one that she loved to see so much.
Jeff liked this part of their love-making, even now, even after his afternoon with Lynn. For he was in control of this part, in complete control. He could strip as slowly or as quickly as he wanted. Linda would not touch him until they were naked. He knew that. She never did touch him until all of the clothes were out of the way.
The young man lifted his arms and flexed the muscles there. He tightened the muscles in his chest and made them bulge. Then he turned around and flexed the muscles in his back. He put on a little show for the sexy, raven-haired girl. When he turned around again to face her, she was smiling. He knew that she had appreciated his show.
And she had appreciated it, although she thought that, in ways, it looked a little silly-like a strange beauty contest in which she was the only judge. But she knew that she would award Jeff the honor that he desired. She would name him as the most handsome man in the world and she would fuck him. That would be his prize. That would make all that weight-lifting worthwhile to the boy.
Jeff slipped his sneakers off his feet. He wore no socks. Then he was ready for the big part of the strip show, the part that would Linda the happiest girl in the world. He slowly unsnapped his jeans and opened them, letting her see just a glimpse of the light hair that grew on his lower abdomen. He teased her with that hair and then he pushed his jeans down, exposing his young cock.
Linda showed no emotion, but he knew that she was enjoying his little strip, his bit of etertainment for her.
He pulled the jeans off and stood before his girlfriend naked, fleshing his muscles and turning and letting her see all of men, all of the things that would soon excite her in bed.
Then he looked at her. It was Linda's turn.
She pursed her lips again, kissing the air as she reached behind and loosened her halter-top. It fell away from her firm titties gracefully, floating like a cloud down to the floor. The girl ran her hand over her tits and looked at her boyfriend, coaxing him with her eyes, letting him know that she knew that he loved those breasts. Then she loosened her shorts and opened them just a bit, showing him a flash of lush, black cunt hair. Then she opened her shorts again and slowly, teasingly, began to push them down her firm, tanned legs.
When she was naked, Linda spread her legs and leaned back a bit and opened her pussy lips to show him the redness that was inside her, the hot, damp place that he would soon invade.
Jeff liked looking at that young cunt.
Then the strip was over and the two young, hot bodies moved slowly together. Jeff was growing hard and Linda was getting wet, but they both moved slowly, feasting their eyes on each other until they were close together.
They both reached out and took each other and pressed their young, naked bodies together. They kissed, a long, passionate, earthy, young kiss that made both hearts beat wildly.
Jeff and Linda tumbled onto the bed.
The ritual was over. Now they would do whatever they wanted to do, whatever struck their fancies, whatever came to their young, heated minds.
And Jeff was thinking again about Lynn, the woman next door. He had an overpowering urge to whisper curses in Linda's ear, to tell her that she was a slut. But he did not dare do that to his girlfriend. He did not know how she would react to such words and he did not want to mess up this nice thing that he had going with the sexy, dark-haired girl.
So, instead of cursing her, he lowered his lips to her little pink nipples and started to suck on them, moving his mouth from one nipple to another, sucking and kissing her cool, young flesh. She ran her fingers through his blond hair and up and down his muscled body as he sucked.
Then Jeff moved down even further on Linda's thin body. He stuck out his tongue and licked her belly. He ran the tongue into the navel and felt her young body twitch with joy. He tongued out that little hole, tasting the saltiness that was there, and then he licked the cool flesh that lay around it, taking his time before he moved further down, down to his ultimate destination, her pink, young pussy, the little thing that she loved to open for him.
The young man licked the black hair that covered the top of her cunt, tasting it. The hair was soft and thick and smelled sweet. Linda was always so clean on nights like this, like some girl fresh from the woods, fresh from somewhere that was completely natural and loving. He liked her clean smell and the way that she moved to let him know that she was becoming excited. She never spoke to him when they made love. She never moaned or said words of passion, but her moves told him that he was doing just the right thing at the right time, just the thing that she most desired at that hot moment.
Finally, he let his tongue move down to the pink slit. He ran it around the lips of the pussy, and he felt her move again, opening her legs wide to let him gain entrance into her best place, her most secret place.
Jeff moved his tongue slowly into the pussy, making Linda jump with that first touch, that first feel of his wetness probing her insides. The girl, as always, tasted clean and fresh and a little salty with excitement. Jeff liked the taste of Linda, the special taste that his girlfriend had when she was beginning to climb that tower of passion in her mind.
The blond young man moved to lie between the girl's legs and put his strong arms under her firm, young legs. He lifted those legs and felt the soft skin that was a part of his lovely girlfriend as he ran his tongue deeper and deeper into her dark-haired snatch. Then he inched his tongue up further, moving out of her hole and touching her clit, that little knob of flesh that caused her to shake violently when he kissed it.
He did kiss her clit and then he took it into his mouth and sucked on it, and the salty taste grew in his mouth as he worked hard on it. But, all the time that he was really sucking on that clit, he was thinking about the woman who had been so good for him the day before. He was thinking about Lynn and he was wishing that his girlfriend, the intelligent and sophisticated Linda could be so willing and so yearning with him.
He looked up, looked past Linda's firm tits and saw his girlfriend. Her eyes were closed and she was twisting with delight. Her hands ran unconsciously over her pink nipples and clutched at her own breasts, as if they were things that would save her when she was drowning, drowning in passion caused by Jeff's mouth.
The blond young man stopped sucking and started to lick the clit quickly, beating his tongue against it violently and Linda squirmed with even more ecstasy.
Then Jeff did something that he had never done before with Linda. He took the clit back between his lips and started to suck on it, but then he bit it, sharply and quickly, and he was surprised to see and feel Linda shiver-not with anger but with more sexual arousal. She did not mind his biting teeth at all, Jeff bit again and she shivered again and then he took the clit in his mouth and started to chew on it, to work it between his clean, white teeth with slow and easy passion.
And Linda almost went insane with the passion in her body.
She began to speak.
"Oh, Jeff," the raven-haired girl cried, "never like this before! Oh, my god, Jeff, I'm coming!"
And she did come, thrusting her pussy against his mouth as he chewed and sucked on the clit. As she came, Jeff inserted his finger into her lovehole and handled it roughly, stroking and battering the inside of her cunt with his' finger.
And Linda came more quickly and more violently than she had ever done before.
After her orgasm, as Jeff moved up her body, slowly kissing his way across her sexy flesh, she thought about her new experience. She was not sure exactly what Jeff had done to her to make her come so quickly and so wonderfully, and she wondered if he had been fucking other women, learning things about sex from other women who were teaching him how to give a female pleasure. She smiled as she thought about that question in her head. She could not really be jealous, she thought, not if Jeff took what he was learning and used it on her. In fact, she would be happy if he were learning new techniques from other women if he would use those techniques to give her pleasure.
Then Jeff was back on top of her, kissing her lips and running his mouth over her still cool face. As he kissed his girlfriend again, Jeff realizes that Linda was a lot like Lynn. She had not minded at all when he used this new and somewhat painful move on her. Perhaps she was ready, he thought, ready for some more submission to his desires.
The girl had never really submitted to his desires at all. And, as Jeff thought about that, he became angry at her. Why had she not submitted? Did she think that she was too good to be a real woman, like Lynn was a real woman? The goddamned bitch, he thought, suddenly harsh again with his girlfriend, she had never really given him much. He had done all the giving in that relationship.
So Jeff put his hand on her long, black hair and took a batch of the hair in his hand and jerked on it.
The girl squealed.
"Jeff!" she said. "That hurts!"
"So?" he hissed in a question.
Then he pushed her down, and he did not speak again. She knew what he wanted her to do.
And, to Jeff's continual surprise, she did it.
She began to move down his hard body, kissing his chest and licking on his nipples with her cool tongue. Then she moved to his stomach, running her lips and her tongue over the hot, muscled flesh as Jeff flexed those muscles and gave her more hardness to feel, hardness to prepare her for the ultimate hardness of his cock.
Linda had sucked his cock before, but she had always done it quickly, as if she hated the taste or the feel or something that was a special part of Jeff. But, tonight, Jeff knew that she would suck his cock with more passion than ever before, because he was showing her his strength and his masculine power-the power that he had discovered that afternoon with the woman next door.
Finally, she came to that cock and she took it in her hand and played with it, delaying the moment when she would have to give her all, not wanting to give into her own desires. Jeff could not stand that on this night, so he grabbed her hair again and pulled it, giving her a bit more pain and reminding her that he was the man and that he was in charge.
Linda did not understand what had happened to Jeff. He had never been this brutal before. But, more important, she could not understand what was happening to her. She discovered that she loved it when he was brutal and commanding. She knew what he wanted and she wanted him to force her to do it, to do it better than she had ever done it before. The whole situation added something new to the sex, she thought, something that smelled like power, something that made her feel weak and helpless and loving toward this young man who lay there naked, yanking on her hair.
The girl took the cock and kissed it softly with her red lips. Then Jeff gave a hissing order, an order that she knew that she would have to follow.
"Kiss the balls too, slut," he said softly and forcefully. "Kiss the balls and lick them."
Even as he spoke, Jeff did not know why he was speaking and he did not know why he was demanding this special act from his girlfriend. He had never even thought about a woman kissing his balls before, but, suddenly, he wanted to know what it would feel like to have his girlfriend's cool, red lips on that part. of him, on that part that she had never touched with her mouth before.
Linda lifted the cock and moved it up and out of the way and lowered her head deep between the young man's legs. She stuck out her tongue and licked the base of the prick at its back and then ran that tongue down to his balls and felt the little, soft hairs that grew there. Jeff's flesh down there tasted sweet to Linda. She took the balls in her hand and lifted them and kissed them softly, using her lips and her tongue on them to get them wet and to fill them up with something that seemed very special to her. She opened her mouth wide and took both balls into her and started to hum on them.
The vibration, the coolness of her mouth made Jeff moan with a frenzied love.
"Yes, Linda," he said to his girlfriend, "do that more."
And she hummed more, feeling the balls vibrate in her mouth. She did not hum a tune, or at least not a tune that she knew. She felt as if the balls themselves were telling her what to do, were giving her a special music to use on the fleshy sack, and she listened to the balls and used their music to make her boyfriend groan even more.
Linda loved that groaning, that sound of passion from Jeff, for she knew that that sound meant that she was pleasing him, giving him what he deserved as a man. And Jeff knew that his balls seemed like they were about to explode in his girlfriend's mouth as she held them in her with her soft, red lips.
Finally, Linda took her mouth off the balls and moved her lips back to the prick, which now stood up full and proud from the young man's hard, tanned body.
She opened her mouth wide and lowered it over the prick, took the whole, hard thing into her with one gulp. Then she started to suck, to bob her head up and down on his throbbing member, as it grew even fatter with blood and lust, as it came near to its explosion.
That was the strange thing. She wanted Jeff to come in her mouth. She wanted to taste his hot fluid and take it down her throat and carry it with her always, deep inside her, where it should be. She had never wanted that before. In fact, she had always considered the very thought of some man coming in her mouth and down her throat repulsive. But, tonight, she wanted it. She wanted it because Jeff had shown her that he had power, and she wanted some of that power in her, hot and. sweet and breath-taking.
She sucked and she sucked on the cock, moving her head faster, up and down on the young man's rod, tightening her lips around the cock and nibbling at the head of it, wanting more than anything else to feel that come bursting out of his tool and shooting down her, filling her, letting her feast on the best part of him.
Jeff's body began to jerk and he thrust his thighs up, forcing his cock deeper and deeper into his girlfriend, fucking her mouth as he had fucked Lynn's mouth not so many hours before. He wanted to come too. He wanted to show Linda that she would do anything that he wanted her to do.
And then he did come, with groans and deep and heavy breathing and cries of anguish and fantastic, frenzied delight.
Linda took it all into her, holding onto the cock and tasting the come that moved down her throat. It was not repulsive at all, she found out. It was sweet and natural, like a fine and tasty fruit, like something that would give her a new life.
When she had swallowed it all, she took her mouth slowly off his rod and looked up at him and smiled. He smiled down at her and reached down and ran his fingers softly through her long, black hair.
"What made the difference in you?" she asked softly.
"What made the difference in you?" he replied with another question, and, as he replied, he wondered if he should tell Linda the truth, if he should explain that he had had a wonderful, fucking adventure with a woman who wanted to be tortured and enslaved. Even as he thought about it, he knew that he would tell Linda. She had noticed the difference and she had responded to it so well, sucking all of his come out of his young cock. She deserved the truth, he thought, she deserved the whole fucking story.
"The difference in you made the difference in me," Linda said with a grin.
"And do you like those differences?" Jeff asked with a smile, savoring the wet lips of his girlfriend, the shine that came from the little drops of his own semen on her red mouth and stalling the time that he would have to tell her the truth.
"I love the difference in both of us," she said with a grin.
And then, as if to prove her point, Linda kissed the dying cock that lay in front of her. Then she looked back at her boyfriend.
"So what caused the difference?" she asked again.
"Another woman," he said, blushing a bit under his tan.
"Tell me about her," Linda said with a smile, and Jeff knew then that she was not angry, only interested and fulfilled as she had never been before.
"Well," he said, "she is a housewife who lives next door to me-"
And he told Linda the whole story about Lynn, about what they had done, about what she had asked for. He even told her about his jumping from the window stark naked when her husband came home, and they both laughed at that.
"That must have been a sight," Linda said, giggling.
"I guess it was," Jeff agreed with a bashful grin. "Lam just glad that my parents were not home to see it."
But Linda was interested in knowing more about this woman who wanted to be enslaved and tortured by her men. For some reason, Linda felt that this woman was like a sister to her.
"You said that she liked to have you curse her?" she asked.
"Yes," Jeff said softly, "especially she liked it when I called her a slut."
Linda shivered when she heard that word again. She remembered that Jeff had called her that, and she knew that she liked the sound of the word too.
"Is she sexy?" the girl asked her boyfriend.
"Yes, very sexy. She has soft, dark hair and big tits."
"Do you think that you will do it to her again?"
Jeff had to be truthful, completely truthful, with his girlfriend.
If I get the chance, I will," he said.
But, again, Linda was not anger. She just ran her hand over his stomach.
"I don't blame you," she said. "This woman sounds like a very interesting person."
"Very interesting," Jeff agreed with a smile.
"And you say that she is married to a professor and that she lives next door to you."
"Right."
Linda was already thinking that she wanted to meet this woman, but she decided that she did not want to tell Jeff that. She would surprise him later on with the big news, after she had met this Lynn Turner, this hot woman who wanted to be tortured, this sister that she had never had.
The girl decided to change the subject.
"What do you want to do now, my master?" she asked with a smile.
Jeff closed his eyes and loved her words for him. Yes, he thought, he was her master now, because Lynn had brought out the stuff in him that made him into a real man, stuff more manly than lifting weights, stuff that would help him with many women and stuff that would help him in politics.
Then he decided to tell Linda his deepest secret.
"Linda," he said softly, "I want to be the vice-president of the United States some day."
She smiled at him.
"I am sure that you will be a good one," she said, "and maybe I can be your wife, the first lady of vice."
They both laughed at her joke.
Then Jeff told her what he wanted, for he was her master and he was in command, and she could not do a thing without his specific orders.
"Suck my cock some more and get it up, Linda," he said firmly. "Then we will fuck like crazy."
"All right, my master," the girl said.
She lifted the cock toward her lips and, just before she took it into her again, just before she tasted again that vice-presidential organ, she heard Jeff mutter a word that filled her heart with joy and made her cunt pulse with passion.
"Slut," he muttered. "You fucking slut."
She began to suck with all of her might, giving him all that she had in her young, sluttish body.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next afternoon, Linda dressed in her sexiest outfit, her black halter-top and her black hot pants, and drove over to visit her boyfriend's next door neighbor.
She would have to be brazen, she decided. She would have to let the woman knew immediately that she knew about Jeff's little adventure and that she did not mind at all. Then, maybe, the woman would agree to let Linda have a little adventure too.
But the girl could not help being a little nervous as she rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer it.
The young housewife who opened the door was, indeed, very sexy, Linda thought as she looked for the first time at Jeff's new lover. The woman was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.
"Yes?" Lynn asked, standing there in the door and thinking that this girl looked vaguely familiar.
"Are you Mrs. Turner?" the girl asked, knowing that she was Mrs. Turner, for Jeff had described her in some detail.
"Yes."
"I am Linda. My boyfriend, Jeff, visited you the other afternoon and he told me that he had a wonderful time."
Lynn jerked with surprise. Had Jeff told this girl about their experience together? and, if he had, why was the girl there now? Did she want some sort of revenge?
"I am sure that I do not know what you are talking about," she lied, her voice trembling with fear.
"Oh, it is okay," Linda said with a grin. "I don't mind. I don't mind at all. In fact, because of you, Jeff is now a much better fuck, and he was very good to begin with."
"Well-" Lynn muttered. She did not know what to say.
But Linda knew. She had planned all of this out carefully.
"Is your husband home, Lynn?" she said, using the first name in an attempt to establish an easy friendship.
"No, he isn't."
"May I come in then?"
Lynn ran her eyes down the sexy, tanned girl's body. She was definitely attractive, the woman thought, and then Lynn knew that she wanted this girl to come into the house. She did not know exactly why, but she knew that she wanted to know about this lusty, little thing.
The housewife grinned and stepped back from the door, welcoming the girl into her happy home.
And Linda walked in.
After Lynn had closed the door, the two females stood there, looking each other over.
"Jeff was right," the girl said. "You are very sexy."
"Thank you. You are very sexy too."
The air was cool in the house, cool enough to battle the heat that passed from one womanly body to another, cool enough to make them both comfortable with each other.
And then Linda remembered the second part of her plan, the important part. She reached down and touched Lynn's soft, damp face and opened her mouth and breathed a soft breath onto the woman's skin. Then she pulled the housewife too her. And Lynn came to the girl willingly.
They kissed, their cool mouths churning together and opening to let their tongues move from one mouth to another. As they kissed, Lynn ran her hands over the girl's sexy body, feeling the soft flesh and the cool black material that covered bits of it and thinking that this was magnificent. She had never kissed a woman before, but she loved this kiss because it seemed to come from this girl's soul.
And then Lynn thought that Dick would be home in an hour or so. Perhaps if he found her in bed with another woman, he would get angry enough to punish her. It was a worth a try anyway, the housewife thought, and, even if he did not punish her, Lynn was sure that this sexy, young girl who had fucked that stud next door would make the afternoon memorable.
The kiss ended, but the women kept their arms around each other, panting into each other's bodies with anxiety, knowing that something very nice was going to come now that the first, anxious moments of the meeting were over.
"I want you, the girl said. "I want you too."
Then they broke apart and Lynn took Linda's hand and led her down the hallway to the bedroom, the room that she shared with her husband, the room that she had shared with Jeff just a couple of days before.
They sat down on the bed, and Lynn turned to the girl and touched her face. Then the woman had to ask a question.
"Why did you come over here?"
"I just had to," Linda said, softly and passionately. "Jeff was so good last night. I knew that something had changed him. He was so manful and so rough with me and I loved it. And then he told me about you and about what you liked and I felt that I had to meet you because I liked the same things. I did not know that I liked them until last night, but I do. I want a man to be rough with me, and I wanted you to help me."
"Help you?"
"I wanted you to help me figure out new games to play with Jeff." Then Linda smiled.
"Maybe we can even figure out some games that we both can play with him," she said, letting the housewife know that she was still included, still important in Jeff's life.
"Maybe we can," Lynn said with a smile.
Then she kissed the girl lightly on the lips.
"Tell me your fantasies," Linda said earnestly. "I want to become part of them."
"I think you already have."
"No, really, tell me."
Lynn lay back on the bed and opened herself up to this girl and told her things that she had never told anyone before, not even Dick her husband. She told the girl about her father and the night that he had beat her and she told the girl about the fantasies she had about being a martyr for some vague cause or belief that she did not even understand. She talked about how she had seen Jeff as a Roman soldier who would cut her with his sword cock. For some reason, she was not afraid that this girl would laugh at her. She trusted Linda with intensity, for she remembered what Linda had said. She liked the same things. As Lynn talked, the girl nodded her head and smiled, letting the housewife know that she understood.
Lynn talked for nearly a half hour. And, when she was finished with her confession of her fantasies, she felt empty and relieved as she had not felt for a long time.
"I understand," Linda said, "and those fantasies are great. My cunt is already wet. I got turned on just listening to you tell me about them."
Then Linda lay back on the bed next to Lynn and took her hand and closed her eyes and let her imagination go wild. She soon had a little story all made up in her head.
She spoke softly, as if she were explaining something that was very important to both of them.
"We are martyrs," she said, "and we are in a cell, waiting to be executed. The-guards are out there and they are laughing at us. They could kill us if they wanted to, but they have decided to save us for the lions. And it is best that we die with the lions. That way, our martyrdom will be more public and more meaningful. We do not want to die in this cell at the hands of the guards, and so we will do anything that they tell us to do."
"Yes," Lynn whispered, visualizing the situation as if it-had happened to her only yesterday.
"We must do what they tell us to do, Lynn, no matter how disgusting it is. We must save ourselves for public martyrdom with the lions. Then the people will know that we were not afraid to die for what we believed in."
"Yes."
Linda opened her eyes and pointed at the wall.
"Do you see them, Lynn?" she asked. "The guards. They are ordering us to take our clothes off."
"Yes, I see them and I hear them," the housewife said, lost in the game that seemed to hold so much truth to her.
"We must do it, Lynn," the teen-aged girl said. "We must take our clothes off. We must save ourselves for the lions and the noble death that is to come."
"Yes, I know."
The two females stood up and silently began to strip. They did not look at each other. Good martyrs do not find joy in seeing another woman's naked body unless they are forced to do so. They both knew that instinctively and they both felt like the true martyrs of old.
They were no longer a young housewife and an intelligent schoolgirl. They were lost in their game, in their mutual fantasy that came alive to them. For a second, Linda thought of herself, amazed at how quickly she had gotten into the fantasy. But then she had lost the real Linda and had clung to the martyr Linda in her mind with passionate intensity.
When they were naked, they looked again at the wall, and Lynn spoke. This time, she had heard the ruthless, laughing Roman guards.
"They want us to crawl like dogs," she said.
"We must do it, Lynn. We must save ourselves for the lions."
Both of the females got down on their hands and knees and crawled on the carpeted floors, doing what the imaginary guards told them to do.
Linda crawled up behind the housewife and sniffed at Lynn's pussy, sniffed as a dog would sniff. She buried her nose into the juicy crack for just one second as Lynn spread her legs to give the girl good entry. Then she moved around and Lynn sniffed at the girl's pussy, recreating the dog-like movement and the dog-like emotion in her body. As she buried her nose into the young, sweet-smelling slit, Linda spoke to them.
"Do you hear them, Lynn? They are laughing at us and saying that we are dogs."
The housewife took her nose out of the pussy. She tried to reassure the younger martyr with her words.
"Dog spelled backwards, Linda, is God. Remember that. We must remember God, and we must save ourselves for the lions."
"I know, Lynn," the teen-aged girl said, almost weeping in her fantasy of grief and death, "but sometimes it is so hard to save myself. I want to let them kill me now. Nothing could be worse than this humiliation."
"If you let them kill you, Linda, then your death will mean nothing. It must be done in public so that we can show the crowds how much we love our belief and how brave that belief makes us."
"For the belief!" Linda shouted, making it almost a call to charge an enemy.
"For the belief!" the housewife called in answer.
But then they both stopped and looked toward the wall, listening to the next order from the guards.
"No!" Linda cried, moving back on her legs and covering her face with her hands.
"What do they want us to do now?" the housewife asked, anxious to discover what new humiliation the guards had in mind for them.
"They want to shave each other's pussies," Linda weeped. "They do not like the black hair that grows on us down there."
"Then we must do it," Lynn said, staring at the guards and screwing all her courage together in her mind. "We must do it and die with the lions."
The housewife stood up and walked into the bathroom. The girl could hear water running in there, and then Lynn came back with a basin of hot water and an aerersol can filled with lather and two razors. She knelt beside the weeping, young martyr.
"We must do it," she said, consoling the girl. "We must shave each other's pussies."
"Then shave mine first, Lynn. Please. I don't think that I could hold that razor right now."
"All right," the older woman said with a smile.
Linda looked at the imaginary Roman guards who were laughing at them and ordering them to do such disgusting things.
"You scum," she muttered.
But the housewife had to make her relax. She knew that torture came more easily to the soul if a person was relaxed.
"Lay back," Lynn said softly. "Lay back and spread your legs. That will make the shaving easier."
The teen-aged girl lay back on the carpet and spread her legs wide. The housewife crawled between those legs. She ran her hands through the hot water and let handfuls of the liquid fall on the black cunt hair-black as her own, she noticed. It was as if she and this young martyr were sisters, sisters who suffered because of the same vague idea.
When the cunt hair was wet, the housewife pressed the top of the can with her finger and let some shaving cream squirt into her hand. She spread that cream around on the black, sweet pussy hair and then she lowered the razor to the girl's body. Linda, seeing it, jerked, but Lynn soothed her with words.
"For the belief," she said softly.
And then the girl was still.
Lynn shaved the cunt hair off the girl with long, slow strokes. She was gentle, trying to cut or nick her martyr friend, and she knew that, in a few moments, the girl would be shaving her too. Then, again, their pussies would be identical, clean and fresh and truly good.
The housewife ran the blade through the water, letting the hair and the lather wash off, letting the cunt show itself in its cleanness.
"I am glad you are with me," the girl said softly with true love in her eyes. "I am glad that we will face the lions together. It will make it so much easier for me."
Lynn smiled, and, for a moment, she thought that she would begin to cry with happiness.
"I am glad that you are with me too, little sister," she said. "It will make things easier for me."
Linda heard the woman's term for her. Little sister. And she closed her eyes and knew that the term was correct. They were sisters in some very important ways.
Soon Linda's pussy was clean and hairless. Lynn washed it with her hands and then lifted those hands to her face, smelling the sweet, clean pussy hairs that still clung to her flesh. She smiled at the girl.
"You are clean and sweet, little sister."
The teen-aged girl stood up and picked up the basin of water and the razor. She walked into the bathroom, and the housewife lay down on the carpet to await her return, to await her own shaving, her own cleanliness. She felt as if she were about to recapture a bit of her purity, a purity that had been lost when she started to grow hair on her pussy, when she had started to play with herself, when her father had beaten her with such tortured frenzy.
Soon the girl returned with fresh water. The razor was also clean. Linda sat down between the woman's outspread legs and moistened the black cunt hair of her older, more experienced sister.
When the shaving started, Lynn turned to look at the soldiers who stood there, watching them. They were playing with their cocks as they watched the housewife martyr being cleaned by her little sister. They were getting turned on by the sight. They were such animals, Lynn thought, and she knew that, after dealing with these soldiers, she would gladly welcome the real animals, the ferocious lions to her big tits. Let them tear me apart, she thought, but they will do it cleanly, not like this Romans who abuse me and my little sister.
The blade on her flesh made her pussy twitch and the housewife knew that she was getting wet.
When she was shaved clean, the teen-aged girl washed her and then she noticed it too, the creamy juice that came from Lynn's cunt. She ran her finger into that cunt and the housewife gasped with passion. Linda knew that the woman-her older sister-was watching her, and she wanted to let the housewife know that she loved her in a very special way. She took the finger out of Lynn's freshly shaved pussy and put it in her mouth, tasting the sweetness and the saltiness that began linked in her mind with nobility and death.
The housewife turned her head toward the wall quickly.
"What?" she said. She had not heard the Roman soldiers, or at least she hoped that she had heard them c correctly.
But she had heard them correct, and what they said filled her with anxiety.
"No," Lynn said. "Don't make her do that to me. I will do it to her if you wish, but you can see that she is very young and innocent."
Linda understood what the woman was talking about, as if she too had heard the soldiers. She put her hand softly on the woman's pussy.
"Is is all right, my sister. I will do it. I will do it because I love you and I will do it for the belief."
Lynn smiled at the girl. "For the belief," she said, giving her little sister courage to do this thing to her.
Linda moved, lay down on her stomach on the carpeted floor and moved her face close to the shaved cunt. She did not mind doing this for her sister, she thought, for she knew that she and her sister would both be martyrs for the cause, and that made everything much sweeter to the girl.
She kissed the housewife's pussy softly with her red, soft, cool lips, and she felt Lynn jerk with passion and desire. The hairless pussy was sweet and soft on her lips. It was like kissing the cheek of a baby, the girl thought, but it was better than that, for the fluid that came from the pussy smelled so sweet. She wanted to taste it. The girl opened the woman's legs and licked the slit slowly and forcefully, and Lynn began to tremble with her own excitement.
The girl's lips were so soft and her tongue was so cool, and, in her mind, Lynn remembered that this girl would die with her soon. That made things very sweet. She knew that the soldiers, the brutal Romans, would want her to lick Linda's pussy soon, when the girl was through with her. And she knew that she would do it without fear and without revulsion. She knew that her little sister's pussy would have to be soft and sweet and good, now that it was hairless-just as her own was.
Linda buried her nose into the cunt and breathed deeply, taking in all the juicy tastes of her hot snatch. Then she ran her tongue deep into Lynn. Finally, she took the clit, the juicy, hairless, innocent ball of flesh, into her mouth and started to suck on it.
"The soldiers have ordered you to bite and chew," the housewife moaned. "Do it, Linda, and save yourself for the lions."
The girl sucked roughly on the clit of the woman and started to bite it with little feverish chomps. Then she started to chew on it. In her mind, the clit became a magic piece of gum that gave her much flavor and much pleasure as she chewed, and she could tell by Lynn's moans and movements that the older sister was experiencing pleasure too.
The sharp, little pains that ran through her body made Lynn's body burn with passion. They were like nails, she thought, nails being driven into her flesh, a thousand little nails that would not kill but that would scar her with love.
And the nails filled her with so much sweet pain that soon the woman was coming, bucking against the girl's mouth and moaning loudly as she clutched her own big breasts with her hands.
When the orgasm was finished, the girl looked up at Lynn.
"Now the soldiers say that you must do me," she said.
"I know."
For the cause. For the belief."
"Yes, little sister, for the belief. For our belief. We must save ourselves for the lions."
But then the fantasy was broken by the sight of the man who came walking into the room. Lynn looked up and saw Dick standing there, and then the housewife looked down to see the naked girl who lay with her head resting on her pussy.
"Lynn," Dick said, "why do you do these things?"
"Will you punish me now?"
Dick turned around and walked out of the room.
Linda was proud of herself. She had not run like Jeff had run. She had not jumped naked from the window and scratched her ass on the bushes. She remained in the room and held onto her new martyr lover-her sister in pain and cleanliness.
When Lynn began to weep again because her husband would not yet punish her, as she deserved to be punished, she was not alone. The younger girl crawled up on her big-titted body and kissed her as she cried, and then Linda rolled off of Lynn's sexy body and held her in her arms and comforted the housewife in her sorrow.
"Why doesn't he punish me?" Lynn weeped in sorrow and despair. "God knows that I deserve punishment."
"He just does not understand yet," Linda said softly.
Sir tried to reassure the woman.
"But soon he will understand, Lynn," she said, "and then he will be happy to punish you. I am sure that you will make him understand soon."
"I hope so. Oh, God, how I hope so!"
But Linda did not really know why the gray-haired professor refused the enslave his wife. After all, she thought as she held the weeping woman, this young housewife was very sexy and very beautiful. She did deserve to be punished and it seemed to the girl that any man in his right mind would want to beat her and tie her and do all the good things that he could to this woman.
But, she guessed, some men are strange. Some men do not see the needs in their women. She was suddenly glad that her man, Jeff, had seen the needs that she had had and had introduced her to those needs the night before.
He had opened up a whole new life for her, Linda thought, and she was happy that she had such a good man by her side.
And she was willing to share the manly, demanding Jeff with this housewife who needed him so much. After all, she thought with a smile on her lips, Jeff would not have known about such needs that women have if it had not been for Lynn.
The girl kissed the housewife's lips softly and eased her finger into the pussy that she had just finished eating.
Lynn moved her finger into Linda's pussy.
And soon there was no weeping in the room. There was only the sound of two martyrs, experiencing their last bits of love before they faced the lions together, before they died for the belief.
There were sounds that could only be made by sisters, Lynn thought as she heard them, by women who understood each other perfectly.
CHAPTER SIX
The next afternoon, Lynn was sitting on the couch, reading her Bible. The salesman whose cock she had sucked had not taken her money and sent her that new, deluxe edition of the Bible. It would have been nice to have such a book, she thought.
It would have been real nice just to sit and to look at the paintings of the sufferings of Jesus on hot afternoons such as this one.
Dick, as usual, was not home. Even in the summer, he taught classes or spent time at the library researching his scholarly articles. He did not like to stay home during the day, for he said that it made him feel as if he were unemployed. And, of course, lately he had not wanted to spend any-time with his wife at all. Lynn knew that her husband thought that she was crazy.
But she was not crazy. She just wanted punishment, as any good wife would want to be treated by her husband. Looking through the Bible, she came upon the story of Lot and his wife. She had read it many times and it seemed even more significant to her now. When, Lot's wife had turned back to look at the cities that God was destroying, she had been turned into a pillar of salt. It was only right, Lynn thought, for the woman was not obeying God's command and her husband's orders. Lynn closed the book and tried to put herself in the place of Lot's wife. If she were given that choice, she wondered, would she turn back to look at the cities? Somehow, she knew that she would. She would do it, even knowing what had happened to that other wife. As Lynn sat there, she felt the wind of the desert move through her body, tearing it to pieces, salty bit by salty bit. Soon, she knew, she would be washed away by the rain and the wind and then she would be completely happy and content.
Lynn was taken from her imaginary loss by the sound of the doorbell. She got up to answer it, and she was surprised to see her pastor, her husband's friend, the Rev. C. J. "Bubba" Peevy, at the door.
Rev. Peevy was a little man with a big gut, and he claimed that he had once played football for the University of Arkansas. But that, he always said, was before he felt God calling him to preach. He made mindless, repetitive jokes about his football days in his sermons. He was now God's linebacker, he said. And he was ready to go play the Devil in the biggest Cotton Bowl in the universe. That is what he always said.
In fact, it seemed to Lynn that Rev. Peevy was always saying the same things over and over again.
But she had to be nice to him. He was her pastor and he was her husband's friend. And Lynn did love her husband. She loved Dick with a warm kind of love that made her feel so good inside that sometimes she wanted to cry.
"Hello, Brother Peevy," she said with a smile.
Then she noticed that he was walking with a cane. The fat man moved past the housewife into the hallway of the house and quickly corrected her.
"Not Brother Peevy," he said loudly (he always seemed to be delivering a sermon), "the Reverend Doctor Peevy, Lynn. You know that I have a honorary degree from Lucius K. Truscott University in North Little Rock, Arkansas."
"Yes sir," she said, "I just forgot myself for a moment."
The man limped into the living room, shouting to her.
"It seems, young lady, that you have been forgetting yourself a lot lately. That is, if what your husband, my good friend Richard, tells me is true."
My god, Lynn thought with ,a shiver, the minister had come to chastize her with his loud voice for being so evil and hurting Richard, Dick, so much. And she would never be able to explain anything to this man. She knew that. The Reverend Doctor Peevy was a fool.
So Lynn followed him and tried to change the subject.
"Can I get you some iced tea, sir?" she asked sweetly, trying to be the good hostess. "Or maybe a soft drink?"
"No, Lynn," the fat man said, "I do not want any iced tea or a soft drink. I want to talk to you about the way that you have been acting in recent days. Richard has been visiting me regularly and we have been praying about it, but it seems that prayer does not work. So I have decided to come here and confront the viper myself."
Viper? She was not a viper! Lynn hated that fat, loud man.
She tried to change the subject again.
"Sir," she said with a note of concern in her voice, "I notice that you are walking with a cane. Did you hurt yourself in some way?"
"Yes," he bellowed. "I was out at the golf course yesterday, playing in the minister's open and I fell down and sprained my ankle. It is nothing serious, but it certainly makes you think, doesn't it?"
"Think about what, sir?" She was still standing up, but the minister was making himself comfortable on her sofa.
"Think about golf, Lynn, golf!" He yelled at her as if she were a stupid child and he was a tired and trying teacher. "I think God was trying to tell me something about golf yesterday when he caused me fall down. He was trying to tell me that golf has become a sinful past-time. Why, I even heard that two ministers-both of them Methodist naturally-were betting on that tournament. Betting, Lynn, betting on a tournament that was supposed to be played for God and Jesus and people like that. It was just sickening, but I was not surprised. Ever since the Vietnam War, those Methodists have been getting very liberal. That is the way that I see it. And liberal ministers will bet and fool around with loose women. Which brings me to you, Lynn-"
The minister paused and looked at her and his face grew red with anger.
"Now just what do you think you have been doing these past few days? I have been listening to my friend Richard and I think that you are trying to kill him with some kind of strange action. You are trying to make him die of grief."
Naturally, the minister had it all wrong, and Lynn wanted to explain that he was wrong. She did not want to kill Dick. She loved him.
"No, sir," she said quickly. "I love my husband. It is just that I want-"
She stopped talking. She could think of no way to tell this idiot minister what was going on in her mind.
"You want him to do what, Lynn?" the preacher boomed from the sofa. "I know. You want him to leave you so that you can spend all of your time with your young lovers, which, I am now told, are members of both sexes. Sodom and Gommorah, Lynn! Those cities were destroyed by God because the people of those towns did just what you have done!"
"I know," she muttered. "In fact, I was just thinking of Lot's wife."
"God does not like sin, Lynn. He told me so Himself. He does not like sin at all."
"I am sure-"
And then Lynn stopped again. God told this idiot that He did not like sin? That was impossible, Lynn thought. God used to speak to her father, but her father had been a good and intelligent man. Lynn knew that God would not waste his breath trying to get anything across to the Reverend Doctor Peevy with his honorary degree.
"There were no other cities like Sodom and Gommorah, Lynn," the preacher informed her solemnly. "Do you know that no other city in the world was named Sodom, and yet there is a Springfield in every state in the union. Makes you stop and think, doesn't it?"
"Yes sir, it does," she lied.
"Richard and I have been praying about you, Lynn, but it does not seem to do any good. And I have come to a conclusion. I think that the only way to get the sin out of you, young lady, is to beat it out of you."
"What?" She was both shocked and a little excited. The fat minister was not much, but if he would beat her it might help ease her soul.
Peevy stood up and leaned on his cane.
"I do not beat the sin out of a woman often, Lynn. In fact, I have not done it in three years. The last time I beat the sin out of anyone was at a big revival meeting in Monroe, Louisiana. There were these two teen-aged girls, twins in fact, by the names of Jenny and Penny Singleton, and they wanted to be good so badly. But they just couldn't, Lynn. Old Satan had a hold on their young bodies and he would not let them go. So, one night, after the revival meeting was over, I took them-out in a car to the woods outside Monroe and I beat them, Lynn. I beat Old Satan right out of them. I kicked him and I hit him and I whipped him until old Satan cried uncle and got up and ran away from Monroe, Louisiana, and left those two girls alone. I beat them and I whip their young, white breasts and I slapped their little pussies and I-"
Peevy suddenly stopped talking. His face grew pale and Lynn thought for a moment that he was going to have a heart attack right there in her living room. And then Dick would come home and find the dead minister on the carpet and he would really be shocked. He would think that Lynn had somehow killed the man. Lynn did not want this preacher to die, not in her house. She called out to him.
"Sir! Sir! Reverend Doctor Peevy! Sir!"
Then the fat man came back to life. He took a deep breath and looked at Lynn.
"I got arrested for doing that, Lynn," he muttered, his voice suddenly soft. She was shocked by that. She had never heard the minister speak in any tone less than a roar.
"Arrested for what, sir?" she asked.
"Arrested for beating old Satan out of those girls. They ran home and told their parents and Mister Singleton, who was a deacon in the church in Monroe, Louisiana, called the police. He was a deacon, Lynn, but he was doing the devil's work when he called those cops. He claimed that I had attacked his daughters sexually, and the cops made me leave town in the middle of the night. I was not even allowed to finish my revival meetings. I did not attack them sexually, Lynn. I did not. I will swear that before my Jesus. Oh, I may have fingered their little pussies a bit, but I was only trying to scrape the devil out of there. That is where he often hides you know. That is where he hides when a man of God gets after him. He climbs right up a woman's pussy and stays there and laughs at God until he figures that it is safe to get out and go about his merry way. So I had to put my finger up those girls, Lynn. I had to get him out because he was laughing at God. I could hear that laughter coming out of those little cunts, and it echoed through the woods like gunshots. But the cops did not understand that, and they made me leave town in the middle of the night. They even threatened to ride me out of town on a rail, and Mister Singleton, the devil's deacon, said that, if he ever saw me again around his daughters, he would shoot me dead."
Then the fat man began to laugh, a high-pitched, wheezy laugh, and Lynn thought again that he might be dying.
"But I showed old Satan," he said, laughing. "I showed that old fart real good. With the help of a couple of my loyal friends in Monroe, I got in touch with those two Singleton girls and they met me in a motel in Texarkana, Arkansas. And, there, in that motel room, I put my finger right back into their pussies and that scraped that son-of-a-bitch, Satan, out of there for good. I had the finger of one hand in Penny and the finger of the other hand in Jenny, and they were moaning and thrashing about because they felt the power of God Himself coming from my fingers. And, when I finished getting the devil out of them and kicking that old bastard out the motel door, they both squealed and came right there on that bed because they knew that they were good girls now."
Lynn was growing tired of hearing about two twin sisters with the devil in their cunts. She wanted to know if the minister really planned to beat her, to whip the evil out of her.
"So now you want to beat me too and scrape the devil out of me?" she asked with a voice soft and breathy with great expectation.
"If it takes that, Lynn," the minister said nobly, leaning his fat gut on his cane, "if it takes that, I will do it. I have never shirked from the duty that God gave to me that night back at the University of Arkansas when I felt him call my name there in the athletic dormitory. Did I ever Ml you about that night, Lynn?"
"Yes, you did."
He often told the story in his sermons.
"I was sitting there studying for a chemistry test and looking over the copy of the exam that one of my wonderful team-mates" had stolen from the professor's office, and I was trying to memorize all of those questions as quickly as I could. And then I heard God speaking to me. He sounded a little bit like the defensive line coach-"
"Fuck, preacher!" Lynn yelled in anxiety. "I said I heard that story before! Damn it, preacher; beat me! Beat the devil out of me! Hit and torture me, preacher! I won't call the cops. You won't have to leave Springfield in the middle of the night! Just beat me, you fucking idiot!"
"All right, Lynn!" the preacher boomed. "There is no reason to become abusive! I will beat you within an inch of your whore's life! Now, get naked! I can't get Satan out of you unless I can see your sexy, naked, tempting flesh! And your big tits! I want to see those big tits, you hear?"
The housewife was already taking off her clothes. She pulled off her T-shirt and her big tits came into view.
"And your pussy too," the minister said, more calm now, his voice less booming and more breathy. "Gotta see that pussy to find out if the devil is hiding up there."
She took off her pants and stopped there naked in front of the preacher. When the Reverend Doctor Peevy-saw her shaved cunt, he gasped.
"My God, Lynn!" he yelled: "The devil has done eaten off all of your pussy hair!"
"No, he didn't," the housewife said with a little smile. "A teen-aged girl shaved my cunt before she stuck her cool, wet tongue into it and make me come. That is what happened just yesterday, and I loved every minute of it."
"It is a wonder that God has not rained fire and brimstone onto this house," the preacher said with a gasp of shock.
"Now beat me, preacher!" Lynn cried again. "Beat the living shit out of me!"
The fat man leaned back and lifted his cane over his head and brought it down on Lynn's shoulder. The blow knocked her to her knees. She lifted her arms up, a naked woman in prayer. And the preacher hit her again with the cane, slamming the cane across her tits.
"Call me a slut, preacher," she requested in her pain.
"Slut!"
"Oh, yes," she moaned.
Lynn closed her eyes and let the cane hit her body again and again. Then one blow from the preacher's cane knocked Lynn to the floor. She lay there, weeping and moaning and saying something straight from the Bible.
"Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."
The sexy housewife rolled onto her back and lifted her arms again, begging for more beating, but the preacher had another idea.
Lynn saw the fat man loosen his belt and pull it out of his trousers and she twitched with pleasure, for she remembered that her father had beaten her with his belt. Her father, the preacher who was a better preacher than this one, had hit her pussy with his belt and she had come when she was just a teen-aged girl.
"Oh, preacher," she moaned, holding her hands out, "beat me with that thing and I will call you father."
The man stopped, genuinely shocked by what she had said.
"Lynn, the Bible says to call no man father."
The woman was silent, knowing that she had failed again, that she had said something that was remarkable in its error. She wondered if the preacher would just leave now, taking his cane and his belt, his rod and his staff with him. If he did leave her, only half-beaten, Lynn knew for certain that she'd die from the sorrow.
But the fat man did not leave. Instead, he put her hands together and wrapped the belt around her wrists, looping it several times beneath the buckle.
"Got to keep you still, Lynn," he said in explanation. "If I can't keep you still, I ain't ever gonna be able to catch the devil and kick him out the door."
"I understand," the woman said.
And the leather rope on her wrists, tight and warm, felt so good that she wanted to cry.
But, now that the preacher had taken off his belt, his trousers were falling down, slipping off his fat gut. He held them up with one hand and brought the cane down on her body with the other.
"Yes, preacher," she moaned, as she felt the places on her body where the cane was striking. She knew that she would be bruised there, but she did not care. She only wanted the punishment that she knew that she deserved.
Then the fat man stopped hitting her and dropped the cane and fell to his knees. She thought for a moment that he was going to start praying over her, trying to make the devil leave her body in that way. She did not want him praying. She knew that prayer would not help. Only the beating would make her happy. She was able to cry out to him, to tell him to pick up that cane and start the beating again, when he spoke to her harshly. And Lynn spread her legs. She spread them wide, as if she were trying to break herself in half.
"Now I am going to get there and get old Satan out," the minister announced as he held his pants up.
The fat man jabbed his finger into the housewife's cunt. He did not ease it in. The devil could not stand for such easing. He jabbed it in and scraped with his fingernail against the walls of her pussy.
Lynn screamed in passion and in pain.
"Get out of there, devil!" the minister said.
"Yes, preacher, get him out!" , "Come on out of there and fight like a man, you fucking devil!"
"Yes, get him out!"
"Get out of that pussy, Satan, and leave this woman alone!"
The minister's face was red with his own excitement and with the work that he was doing. He was breathing in short, rapid gasps, like someone who was exercising all of his muscles at once.
Then he jerked his finger out, scraping the inside walls of Lynn's cunt. She screamed again and grabbed her cunt and tried to soothe it with her own touch.
The fat man held the finger that had been in her pussy in front of his face and looked at it, wondering where Satan was now.
"Didn't do no good," he muttered. "Gonna have to do for you what I did for a little girl now in Tyler, Texas in 1965. Couldn't get Sstan out of her pussy, so I had to fuck the badness out of her."
Lynn opened her eyes with shock.
"What? Fuck me?"
She didn't want the fat man fucking her. She only wanted him to torture her as a minister should torture a woman. She did not want his greasy, preacher prick in her aching pussy.
"Yep," the preacher said, loosening his pants, "I am gonna have to fuck you, just like I had to fuck that little girl in Tyler, Texas. Strange, though. I would have bet that you were old enough to get rid of Satan without a fucking. That little girl in Texas was only thirteen. That was the problem there. She did not have enough strength to make the devil let go of her, and I had to smother him witn my cock in order to get rid of him."
The preacher pulled out his short, stubby, brown prick.
"I did get arrested for that. They put me away in a hospital for two years just because I fucked Satan out of that girl. That is the trouble that they give a good preacher these days, but people don't care at all if two Methodists bet on a golf tournament. Makes you think, don't it?"
"No!" Lynn cried. "Please don't fuck me!"
She grabbed her cunt with both hands and tried to protect it from the little prick that looked to her like a cigar butt.
Got to do that, Lynn. I owe it to my friend Richard. He is a good man and he cares about you."
"No!" she yelled, letting the tears break forth in her eyes.
The fat preacher stroked the cigar butt.
"Got to," he mumbled again.
"Get the fuck out of here!"
Lynn turned in the direction of the voice and saw Dick, his face red with anger, standing in the doorway of the living room.
"Dick," she gasped, speaking in relief. She had been saved from that preacher's prick.
"Hello, Brother Richard," the preacher said, giving the man a big wave. "It is good to see you today. What may I do for you?"
"You can get the fuck out of this house, you fucking maniac!" Dick yelled.
And then he came storming across the room and grabbed the preacher by the collar and pulled the fat man away from Lynn.
Dick threw the preacher on the floor.
"I do not believe you really understand what is going on here, Dick," the preacher said calmly. "I was just trying to get the devil out of your wife, and I think I have a good chance of doing it if you will only give me a few moments in which to fuck her. You see, I know how to smother the old devil. Why, in Tyler, Texas-"
"Get out of here and get out of this town!" Dick yelled. "Or I will make sure that you are put away in a mental institution for good!"
Then the preacher began to shake. His eyes grew wide with fright at the sound of that term, mental institution. He remembered what it had been like the last time that he was in a place like that.
"Dick," he pleaded as he started to cry, "please don't tell no one. I will talk to God for you. I will get you a good, seat at the Cotton Bowl up in heaven. I promise I will, Dick. You will have the best seat in the house. I know God. I know him well. He has a voice just like a coach I used-"
Dick turned to Lynn, his eyes wide with shock.
"He is crazy," he muttered, speaking of the preacher. "He is totally insane."
The preacher was up on his knees, his pants falling down, his prick hanging out, his arms clinging to Dick's trousers as he cried and begged.
"I will get you a good seat. God always said that I was a good team player. When I was at the University of Arkansas, God said that I should make Ail-American, but all the sports writers were Catholics. That is what he told me. Catholics won't let a good Christian make Ail-American. That is what God said to me right there in his office-"
Dick pushed the fat man away from him and stepped back and looked at him as if he were looking at some dreaded, disease-carrying animal.
"Call an ambulance, Lynn," the gray-haired professor said, "and tell them to bring a straight-jacket with them."
Lynn jumped up and ran for the phone, happy to be saved from the preacher.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After the men in white had come and had taken the preacher away, Lynn rushed to her husband and cried as Dick held her in his arms.
She had always thought that she was crazy, and perhaps she was just a little bit. But now that she had seen the preacher in all of his glory, she knew that she could never be. as crazy as he was. And she hoped that now she would be able to explain to her husband why she wanted to be punished so badly.
But, before she could say anything, Dick was apologizing to her.
"I am sorry, Lynn," he said softly, kissing her. "When I should have been talking about these problems with you, trying to understand what was going on in your mind, I was talking to him and he was crazy. All the time, he was crazy. Can you ever forgive me?"
She wept and kissed him passionately on the lips and ran her fingers through his gray hair.
"I forgive you, Dick," she purred, "but I have to tell you why I do the things I do."
He led her to the sofa and sat down with her and held her in his arms.
"Yes," he said, "tell me. I will try to understand. I will try to understand anything. You deserve so much understanding from me to make up for all the times that I have just ignored your sorrow."
Sitting there on the sofa, she told her husband the whole story. She started with her feelings on that night that her father had caught her playing with herself and had beaten her and then she kept talking, telling Dick about her fantasies of martyrdom and about the way that Jeff and his girlfriend, Linda, had worked themselves into those fantasies. She told him in detail what she really wanted from a man.
It took her a couple of hours to tell of all this, and though it all Dick sat there silently, holding his young wife's hands in his own, listening, trying to understand, nodding his head when things made sense to him and shaking his head when they didn't, so that she would know to add more, to explain more of what she wanted.
And, that night, Dick agreed to try anything that she wanted to do.
"After all, Lynn," he said, "if two people love each other, nothing is wrong, is it?"
"No," she murmured, kissing his face. "Nothing is wrong. And I do love you, Dick. I love you more than anything in the whole, wide world."
The gray-haired professor liked hearing that.
Later that night, after Lynn had rested and bathed, she lay down on the bed and waited for her husband. She knew that he would be coming to see her soon.
She was naked, and her big tits were moving up and down as she took deep breaths, trying to contain her delight and her pleasure at what was going to happen with Dick, at what Dick had promised to do for her that night. She could not believe that she was finally going to get what she had wanted, what she had prayed for for all of these years. Dick was going to punish her and prove to her that he loved her more than anything else in the whole, wild world.
It was too good to be true.
As Lynn waited for her husband, yearned for him, she felt the heat growing in her sexy body. She had just taken a shower and the water had been cool and refreshing, but now that coolness was being mixed with the hot feeling that seemed to come from her cunt and spread throughout her flesh. Lynn knew that the heat meant that she was horny and grateful that her husband finally understood her desires. She wanted her husband in there at that moment, beating her and making her love it, acting like a man and making her feel like a woman. But she knew that the waiting would make it better, and she knew too that the waiting was the first part of the torture. Her husband was a strong man with a will of his own and he would not come into the room to satisfy her until he was ready. She admired Dick's strong, gray-haired will. She knew it was that will, that quiet strength that she had sensed in him when she was a student at the university that had first attracted her to the man. She had felt then that he would be able to protect her from anything, and now she knew that he was going to protect her from herself by torturing her and making her suffer in ecstasy. That was the ultimate protection, she thought, the protection that bought the pain that she craved so much.
As she lay there, watching the door and waiting for it to open, her hand moved across her big tits. She felt those tits and the nipples that were already beginning to grow bumpy and excited in the cold room. She touched those nipples, ran her finger around the pinkness that swelled there on each of her breasts and then she ran her hand down her stomach and moved her fingers through the slight stubble of her cunt hair. She would have to shave it again tomorrow, she reminded herself. Now she wanted to keep her pussy as bare and as soft as a baby's behind. She did not want the dark hair to grow back and make her feel unclean and sluttish. She was a martyr, and her husband was the one who was going to give her her blessed martyrdom. Then her fingers moved down even further and ran around the pink lips of her pussy. She touched those lips lightly, feeling the thrill, shoot through her body and feeling the cunt, grow moisten with her own touch. Soon she would be lost in a mindless daze. She knew that, and she wanted to be lost. She wanted to regain that feeling she had had that night so long ago when she was just a girl, when she had been so innocent and so sexy, when she had learned that she had once done something to make her father proud of her. Lynn eased her finger into her wet cunt and felt the soft dampness there. Then she put two fingers in and moved them deep into the pussy, letting them go crazy in that dark, beautiful, mindless hole.
Tonight, she knew, no famous politician would be shot. That had already happened. All that was left to Lynn was her own blissful martyrdom, and that she waited for anxiously as she played with herself.
The door came open and Lynn turned to see her husband standing there. She did not take her fingers out of her pussy. In fact, she churned her fingers in there more violently, for she saw that Dick was naked. His gray chest hair looked clean, like a fresh powder on his body, and his prick was long and heavy against his thigh, even though it was not erect yet. And in his hand Dick held a belt, his own belt, the belt that would start her pain and her pleasure. He had his other hand behind his back. Lynn could not tell what he had there, but she was sure that it was something that would make her feel loved and beautiful and sexy in a very special way.
"Playing with yourself again, Lynn?" Dick asked, a fierce smile coming across his face.
She looked down at her hand. There was no way that she could deny it. In fact, she did not want to deny it.
"Yes," she mumbled. "I was. I am sorry."
Dick stepped into the room, but he kept that one hand behind his back so that she could not see what he held in it.
"Playing with yourself," he muttered. "And probably thinking about that strange belief that you have too, weren't you?"
"Yes, I was." She blushed when he mentioned that belief. She had always wanted it to be secret, but it could not be a secret if she was going to be tortured for it.
"You believers," he snarled. "You all think that you know exactly what makes the world go round. You all think that, by dying for your belief, you will change that world."
Then he laughed. His laugh was cold and ruthless and terribly manly.
"You think that, if you are tortured and still hang onto your belief, that will prove that you are right, and that will make others believe as you do. But you know that is not so, Lynn. The only thing that your torture does for the others is give them a bit of amusement. You know that is true."
"I will not give up my belief," she said nobly.
"We will see," he hissed. "We will see just how much you can stand."
And then he pulled his hand from behind his back and showed her what he had there.
Ropes and strips of leather and all kinds of strange devices that he would use on her in an effort to make her give up her belief.
She squirmed onto her fingers, which were still in her pussy, when she saw all of the things that he had got to give her pleasure and pain. She loved Dick more at that moment that ever before, and she wanted to yell out to him and tell him that. But she could not. She knew that she could not. She could not tell her torturer that she loved him. She would have to close her eyes and endure the pain and retain her vague idea that meant so much to her as he tried to beat that idea out of her, to make her reject that idea that had given her a reason for living and that would give her a reason for dying if she had to die.
Dick walked toward the bed and put all of the instruments of pain and bondage on the little table that was next to the bed. But he kept the belt in his hand, and, standing there "in the soft light of the bedside lamp, he reminded Lynn of her father, who had come into her room that night and who had found her masturbating. She wanted to call him daddy, but the word would not come out. She opened her mouth and the thing that came out shocked her.
It was like the snarl of a mad dog.
"I will not give it up," she said to him, her voice harsh and coming from deep in her throat.
"We will see," he hissed.
And then, slowly, Dick raised the belt over his head. It hung there, limp and lifeless but Lynn knew that when it came down it would be filled with life and it would add spice to her life, more spice that she had ever had in her life before.
Slowly, she took her hand out of her pussy and lifted her arms and lay them back on the bed, lay them on the sheet above her head. She was wide open to the belt now. She smiled and waited for the first, crushing blow, the first attempt to make her deny her vague and strange belief. But she knew that she would not do that, no matter what her torture master, her husband, did to her.
Dick's gray-haired body tensed and then he brought the belt down on her flesh. It landed on her stomach with a maddening slap and a sting and it sent a shock of passion through the young wife's body.
"Give it up!" he yelled. "Give it up and worship Caesar." t
"No!" she moaned. "It is my belief and I will not give it up."
Her husband lifted the belt again and brought it down upon her body, this time on her big tits, making them shake with the pain and the torment as the heat from the belt ran through her. She gasped for air, but then she yelled.
"I will not give it up!"
Again the belt came down on her breasts and then again on her stomach. It came down again and again with hard and steady slaps, stinging her, hurting her, giving her wonderful feelings of passion and power. But, with each slap, Dick carefully avoided her shaved pussy, for he knew that that sting would be the greatest on her body. That strike would mean the most to her.
Lynn spread her legs wide, inviting the belt to come down on her cunt, but Dick made her wait for that ultimate pleasure and pain. He continued to strike her stomach and her legs and her thighs and her big tits. Then he spoke to her again.
"You want me to beat your pussy, don't you, Lynn? You want me to hit it and make you come because you know that coming will give you strength to fight on for your belief, don't you?"
"Yes! Yes!" the woman cried. "Hit my pussy and make me come!"
"No!" he barked. "Not yet! Your pussy is not good enough to hit with this belt yet. I am going to make you wait for it and I am going to make you beg for it!"
Lynn's body shivered with delight; she knew that waiting was the best thing for her shaved pussy. It would make the tension grow' there and it would make her more vulnerable to Dick's power. It would make her more of a woman.
"Turn over on your stomach, you fucking slut," Dick snarled at her.
And she followed his orders. She could not do anything else. In her mind, she knew that if she did not follow his orders, this Roman general would kill her. And she reminded herself that she had to save herself for the lions. She had to make her martyrdom a public and beautiful thing.
When she was lying on her stomach, Dick gave her another order.
"Put your arms behind your back, slut."
She did that and she turned to see what he was doing. He reached for one of the leather straps that was on the little table beside the bed. She felt him tie it tightly around her wrists, and she felt the wrists begin to grow numb with the loss of circulation. Now she was really at his mercy. She had never thought about this before, about being bound and tied and held in one position, but she was glad now that Dick had thought of it. She was happy that her husband had such imagination.
He was a magnificent man!
When her hands were tied, Dick grabbed her hair and pulled her head up, forcing her to arch her back and strain it. He looked into her tearful eyes and shouted.
"Give your belief up!"
"No," she whimpered. "I will not give it up."
Then Dick jerked her hair and pulled her off the bed, letting her tumble painfully onto the carpeted floor. With her arms tied behind her back, she rolled on the carpet, jerking with passion as the real humiliation of the evening settled into her body.
Dick began to flail at her again with the belt, striking her flesh as she rolled on the floor.
"You cannot escape me, slut!" he cried out with a vengeance that made her heart weak. "You cannot escape me and now you cannot even play with yourself because your hands are tied. You are in a terrible mess now, aren't you, you little slut? Why don't you just deny your belief, give it up, and then I will set you free."
"My belief makes me free," she muttered.
Dick grabbed her hair again and pulled her toward the bed.
"Back up there, slut," he said. "Back up on the bed and then I will really punish you for good."
Lynn climbed slowly back onto the bed, feeling her body ache where the belt had struck her, making her way awkwardly because her hands were tied around her. She lay on her stomach there on the bed, but soon it became obvious that that did not please the Roman general.
"On your back, slut," he snarled, pushing her over so that she lay on her bound hands. The pain went through her arms and her back and she looked up at him, wondering what the general, her husband, would do now.
What he did then was something that thrilled her.
He raised the belt and finally brought it down on her pussy, on that clean, shaven thing that meant so much to her.
And the orgasm came, rocking through her trembling body like a fast train. She closed her eyes and felt herself coming with all the passion that she had in her flesh. Her tits shook and her pussy quivered and her whole body rocked on the bed as she moaned with delight.
"Thank you, General," she said softly, as the last of the orgasm made its way through her. "Thank you, Dick."
Then, as she lay there, resting from the ordeal and the pleasure, the Roman general snarled at her again.
Do you really think that I am through with you, you slut? I am not finished at all. I have given you a bit of pleasure. Now you must give me much pleasure. You must do whatever I tell you to do. And I will tell you to do very disgusting things. Maybe then you will give-up your belief and worship Caesar."
"I will not give it up," she mumbled, "no matter what you make me do for you."
And she knew that that was true. But she also knew that she would do anything that the general wanted her to do. Save yourself for the public martyrdom, she kept thinking. Save yourself for the lions. They deserve you. They have been waiting for so long, and they are so hungry. Save yourself for the lions.
Dick dropped the belt on the floor and leaned over and picked Lynn up tenderly in his arms. His movements shocked her. She wondered if the fantasy would be over all ready, if he had become a loving husband instead of an angry Roman. She hoped not. She wanted to do more. She wanted to suffer more.
And then Dick showed her that the torture was not over.
He dropped her on the carpet floor and she landed with a painful bounce.
Lynn lay on the floor, trying to move so that she could again feel some blood running into her hands, but the general had other ideas for her. He wanted her to move in other, more sexual ways. He grabbed her hair and pulled her up until she was on her knees in front of him. Then, when she was steady on her knees, he let go of her hair and held his prick up with his hand, held it right in front of her face.
"Suck that cock, you slut," he said. "You like to play with your pussy so much. Let's see how you like to suck a good old Roman cock."
"For the belief," the housewife muttered, thinking that she must suck the general's cock and save herself for the lions.
Dick was holding the cock and Lynn knew that she would enjoy this prick, for it was mixed in her brain with the pain and the humiliation that she was suffering and all of this was given to her by her loving husband.
She opened her mouth and leaned forward and took the tip of the cock between her lips. She gave it her first suck and pressed her lips around the pulsing head, moving into her mouth and freshening her breathe like a mint.
The housewife sucked. She moved her head back and forth, taking more and more of the Roman rod into her with each thrust. Dick held her head but he did not force her to take more than she could with her swallowing motion. He knew that a real martyr had to do what she did because she wanted to do it, and Lynn knew that, with this sucking, she was saving herself for the public death with the lions in the arena.
Dick, her husband, the Roman general, moaned with pleasure as his wife sucked his cock, but then he jerked Lynn's head back, forcing her to release the tool.
He pushed the woman to the floor and she lay there, breathing deeply, trying to keep her martyred spirit alive and wondering what the general had in mind next. She soon found out. Dick raised his bare foot and put it over her face.
"Lick it, slut," he snarled. "Lick it or I will stomp your head into the ground."
She stuck out her tongue and licked, tasting the strange manly delicacy of the bottom of his foot, running her tongue over the hard shin of his foot and his toes. She even ran her tongue between the big toe and the one next to it and tasted the lint that was there, the to that hiding place on her husband's body.
She couldn't stand the ecstasy, to that hiding place on her husband's body, as Dick tried to keep himself balanced.
But soon the excitement was too much for her husband. He could not balance himself on one foot with his prick as long and as hard as it was and with his mind rushing over old memories of love and sex while it tried to come up with new ways to torture his loving, martyred wife. He had to get to the fucking, to the part where he would finally prove that he loved Lynn, to the part where he would finally get his release, like her release that she had felt when he had hit her shaved cunt with the belt.
He leaned over and pulled on the hair again.
"Up onto the bed again, slut," he hissed. "I have more planned for you."
More planned? Lynn could not believe it. She wondered if this torture would go on all night and she hoped that it would. She loved the fact that her husband was finally giving her the punishment that she deserved.
She slithered toward the bed on her stomach with her hands tied behind her, with her tits rubbing against the carpet. In her mind, that carpet became a terrible hot sand that scraped at her tits and made them hot and raw. She loved that sand, as it made its way into her skin, as it dug deeper into her, going almost to her soul. She loved that gritty, hot, dirty feeling that came over her body.
Then the Roman general pulled her out of the sand by grabbing her hair. She stood up and fell onto the bed, and, after that, the general prodded her with his hands until he had her in the position that he wanted her to be in.
She was lying on her back again, with her hands tied behind her. Her whole body ached with delight. The general, seeing her there as he wanted her, reached for two pieces of rope and walked to the foot of the bed.
The bed had an old-fashioned frame with high, pointed, pieces of wood, jutting from the corners of it.
Dick tied Lynn's feet quickly, expertly to those high, jutting pieces of wood. She was soon spread over the bed, her hands tied behind her and her feet tied to the frame and her shaved pussy open to any pain that he wished to give her.
She moaned and wondered what he would do next.
"No sound," he barked to her. "I do not want to be bothered by the sound coming from a believer."
Again, the general walked to the little table beside the bed and picked up a long piece of white cloth.
He tied the cloth around Lynn's face and jabbed it into her mouth, gagging her, shutting off all sound from her throat. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at him, wondering what else he could do to her, and wanting him to do everything in the whole world to her.
The Roman general climbed onto the bed and crawled over her body, breathing on it as he cursed her.
"Filthy, believing slut," he snarled. "You are worthless. You are nothing but a cunt and a cunt is worhless if it does not turn over itself to Caesar. You are a bitch, a whore, a piece of trash, a slut."
As he cursed her, he rammed his Roman finger into her shaved pussy. She was already wet there, wet with the pain and his curses and the excitement that they gave to her, but she grew more wet quickly as he played with her slit and battered the inside of her cunt.
Then her husband took her clit between his fingers.
"You slut," he hissed, "I should rip this off and let you bleed to death."
Lynn wished suddenly that she had not been gagged, for she wanted to tell him that she wanted him to rip off her clit. She would have loved seeing that little piece of flesh, bloody and being held high in a Roman general's manly fingers. But she could not speak. She could only move her pussy against his fingers softly to let him know that she enjoyed what he was doing.
"Like it, do you?" he said with an evil laugh. "You would like to have your clit ripped off."
She nodded her head as the sweat burst from her brow. She was in a fever of passion and pain.
"Well, then, I won't rip it off," he said. "I will do nothing that you want me to do. I will fuck you instead."
When the preacher had announced that he was going to fuck her, Lynn had been outraged and frightened, but Dick was her husband, and he was playing the game so well that she was almost dying for a fucking from his Roman cock.
Dick positioned himself between her outstretched legs and lifted her hips in his hands, bringing her pussy into view. He stopped for a moment and marveled at his wife's shaved cunt. He knew that that teen-aged girl had done that to Lynn and she had shaved the girl's cunt too. Somehow, the hairless cunt made everything seem more exciting, more lusty. Dick put his cock at the opening and then shoved it in, feeling his wife tremble with excitement as the fucking began.
Lynn bit against the gag and fucked. Her hands that lay under her hurt whenever she tried to move, but she moved anyway with the fucking, with the thrusting of her husband's cock into her pussy, with the excitement of the torment and the lovemaking all mixed up in her head. She could fell Dick's cock slamming against her tender cunt walls, and she could feel his body bucking against hers. She closed her eyes and let the mindless passion overcome her. She thought of nothing except that Roman cock that was invading her as if she were an alien land. And she loved that invasion and that cock and her husband who was giving her so much to live for on this night.
Dick fucked and fucked and groaned and felt the sweat rolling down his body and then he came, his semen shooting inside his wife's young cunt and his body beating hers with a great power that he did not even understand himself. He had never felt such power before, and he knew that he too had discovered something on this night. He had discovered that this torture, this game-playing made him a better lover. It made him feel more like a man.
When the fucking was over, when Dick was drained of all of his juices, he pulled his cock out of Lynn's lovehole and began to untie her. First he let her ankles go free and then, when she rolled over, he untied the hands that were behind her back. Finally, she loosened the gag and pulled it gently away from her mouth. She coughed and took a few deep breaths and then she smiled at him.
"I love you," she said.
"I love you, Lynn," the professor said, "and it is all right to do this. If there is love, then anything is all right."
Tears came into the woman's eyes. She knew that her husband was right, and she knew that he would now agree to give her pleasure in any way that he could.
Lynn reached out for him and he came to her, their naked bodies moving softly together, like children's bodies. They were both exhausted by the loving and the pain. Lynn closed her eyes and held her husband close and felt a new warmth run through her loving, martyred body.
She was in heaven with this man now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next day, while Dick was at the university library, researching another scholarly article, Lynn called Jeff and asked him to come over and bring his girlfriend. She could not wait to tell them about the new life that her husband had given to her marriage.
When the teen-agers got there, the housewife took them immediately to the bedroom and the two kids sat down on the bed to listen to Lynn's description of the night before.
She told them about it in detail, and, after she was finished with her story of lust and pain, Jeff grinned.
"Say," he said, laughing a bit, "your husband has turned into quite a swinger. Maybe we can get him to do something with Linda here." He put his hand on his girlfriend's leg. "She is wearing me out. She is more than I can handle by myself."
Linda laughed at the boy's joke.
"Nothing could wear you out, stud," she said. But then she smiled a little, thoughtful smile. "However, your husband sounds like someone I would like to meet, Lynn," she said to the young housewife.
"I am sure that Dick would like to get to know you better too," the woman said, rubbing her had over Linda's long, dark hair.
Then the housewife stepped back and looked over her young guests.
On this hot afternoon, they both looked very good. Jeff was wearing his cut-off jeans that showed his bulge so well, and that was all that he was wearing. His naked chest muscles rippled as he lay back on the bed and looked at Lynn. And Linda was wearing his hot pants and a T-shirt that fit tightly on her body, showing off her firm young titties.
Lynn knew that she could not let the two kids leave without having some fun. She knew too that her story had turned them on.
So the housewife turned to Jeff.
"Heyrstud," she said with a grin, "do you think that you are man enough to handle two women this afternoon?"
Linda shivered when the woman spoke. The housewife had not consulted her, had not asked her if she wanted to take part in a threesome. But the girl knew that the housewife could tell that she was turned on, if Lynn had asked, the question from the girl's red lips would have been a quick yes.-Linda looked at Jeff too and grinned, letting him know that she agreed with the woman. She wanted a fun afternoon with her boyfriend and her big sister in martyrdom.
"Sure," Jeff said, flashing his white teeth in a wide grin.
"Good," the housewife said, and she began to shuck her clothes from her sexy, yearning body. The two teen-agers followed suit, and quickly they were all naked.
Then Lynn spoke again.
"Let's play a game and let's play it just like it was real."
When the two kids nodded at her, letting her know that they were ready for any game, Lynn thought about it for a moment and then described the roles.
"Linda and I will be too women waiting for martyrdom in ancient Rome, and you, Jeff, will be the guard who tortures us and makes us do all kinds of terrible things."
Even as she spoke, the excitement in her voice made it tremble and the kids caught that excitement too.
The housewife walked to the bedside table, on which she had put all of her husband's new devices of torture. She showed them to Jeff and said, "You may use these in any way that you see fit."
The boy stood there, his cock growing and stiffening with excitement.
"I will use them well," he assured the girls.
And then there was silence in the room, while the three people got into their roles, while they concentrated on what was to come. Finally, Jeff spoke, but it was not really Jeff. It was the Roman guard, who hated the girls for their belief and for their loyalty to some vague idea that he did not even begin to understand.
"Down on your knees, sluts," he said harshly.
And Lynn and Linda fell automatically to the carpeted floor and looked down. They could not stand to look up at him. They wondered what he had planned for them.
Jeff formed the vision in his mind, the way that he wanted these two sexy women to be, the way that he wanted to control them. Then he began to give orders.
He slapped Lynn's face.
"You, slut, on the bed."
She moved quickly to the bed and lay down and then she touched her face where the boy had hit her, where the sting was.
Jeff picked up the ropes and snarled at the housewife.
"You, slut, spread them. Spread your arms and your legs."
She did, closing her eyes and giving into the sound of his voice, to the Roman harshness that she both loved and hated. Then she opened her eyes again and looked down at Linda, who still sat in the floor, watching them with her eyes wide with disbelief.
"For the belief," she said softly, giving her little sister some special word that would give the girl some courage. Linda would need courage to face what her boyfriend had in mind for her. Lynn knew that. She could tell by the way that Jeff looked at her that he had something remarkable painful and humiliiating in mind for both of them, both women that he loved with passion, both women who had given him so much.
"For the belief," Linda repeated to her big sister in martyrdom. "Do whatever he wants you to do. We must save ourselves for the lions."
"For the lions and for the belief," the woman said.
Then she watched Jeff as the naked Roman boy began to tie her hands and her legs to the bed, making her a prisoner to the ropes, leaving her spread and opened to him as she had been opened to the general the night before.
And then the housewife thought. Certainly, this young Roman was a favorite of the general, and the general had told him about the experiences that he had had last night. Now the young man, who would be a general some day, wanted to have his experiences too, wanted to have this lustful fun with the sexy martyrs.
And he would have it. Lynn and Linda would give this young man anything that he wanted, for they knew that they had to save themselves for the punishment of the true martyr, they had to save themselves for the lions.
When Lynn was tied onto the bed, Jeff turned to his naked, sexy girlfriend.
"You, slut," he said. "You get on top of her."
"What?"
"Get on top of her."
Lynn spoke to the girl, trying to soothe her and prepare her for her punishment.
"Come, little sister. We must save ourselves for the lions."
The girl got up and walked slowly, hesitantly, toward the bed. She looked at the woman who was lying there naked, and she looked down at the hairless cunt. She had shaved that cunt just a few days before, but she could tell that someone had shvaed it again since then. Perhaps Lynn's husband had done the honor, or perhaps Lynn, herself, had wanted to keep her cunt hairless and cool and pure in the summer heat. Linda did not know for sure. But she knew that she had shaved her own cunt again that morning. She wanted her pussy to remain hairless for the rest of her life.
The teen-aged sexpot stood by the side of the bed and looked at her boyfriend, the angry Roman guard.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked softly, and then she quickly lowered her eyes to the floor. The Roman would not like it if she looked him in the eye for too long, she knew.
"I want you to lie on top of her," Jeff said firmly, pointing to Lynn, who lay tied to the bed. "I want you to lie with your tits against her tits and your pussy against her pussy."
Linda looked at her sister again, seeking help and guidance.
Lynn smiled at her.
"Do it," she said softly, coaxing the girl to lie on top of her lusty body. "Do it and save yourself for the lions."
"For the belief?" the girl asked.
"For the belief."
The dark-haired girl got onto the bed and moved onto the woman's body.
"Tit against tit," Jeff reminded his girlfriend. "Pussy against pussy."
The two females were almost the same height, so it was no trouble for Linda to put her smaller tits on top of Lynn's big breasts. Then the tops of their pussies came together and both women shivered with a special thrill. Both shaved cunts were there together, one mounted on another.
Jeff quickly tied Linda's arms and legs to the bed as he had tied Lynn's just a few moments before. Then he stepped back to watch the two women lying so close together and so helpless.
Linda had moved her head to the side of Lynn's head, but her long, dark hair was falling over Lynn's face.
"What are you doing?" Jeff screamed at the girl, pulling her hair. "Are you trying to suffobate that woman and put her out of her misery. No one is allowed to put her out of her misery without written permission from the Caesar."
Then their faces were together, the soft flesh of womanly love clinging together as Linda put her face next to the housewife's. The pain that had been caused by the jerk on her hair made tears come to the girl's eyes. Lynn felt those tears as they dropped onto her own face.
"Kiss her," the Roman guard said. "Kiss her and make her feel better."
The women did not know really which one was being addressed, but they figured that it did not make any difference. They were both in pain and they both wanted to feel better and they both knew that a cool kiss from another sexy female would make the good feelings rush through the two naked bodies.
So Lynn and Linda kissed passionately, opening their mouths and letting the tongues move from one mouth to the other. They were equals now, equal in pain and in ecstasy. They were both being controlled by Jeff and they were both loving it.
The cool kiss grew hotter and Jeff watched them, feeling his cock, massaging it, touching the tip of his red prick and making it even hard. This was a show that he enjoyed. This was a power that he enjoyed. If he could feel this much power in his body, he did not care if he ever became the vice-president of the United States or not, he thought. This meant more than any vice-presidency.
When his cock was ready, Jeff moved onto the bed too. He kneeled between the females' outstretched legs and looked down to see one pink hole on top of another, one little welcoming snatch on top of another. They were shaved holes and, looking only at them, Jeff could not tell which hole belonged to the teen-ager and which hole belonged to the housewife. And he did not care about which hole belonged to whom. He wanted both of them.
The boy wished that he had been born with two pricks so that he could fuck both of them at the same time, but he knew that he would have to make do with one prick, and he knew that one prick, if used correctly, was enough to send both of the women into heaven.
He touched the pussies with his fingers. They were both wet. Both women had become excited by the punishment and by their own closeness. They were ready and he was ready.
So Jeff slipped his prick into the top pussy and started to fuck.
As he fucked the women, he ran his hands around the naked flesh of both bodies until they seemed to melt into one sexy body with one pussy that was worthy of all the punishment that he could give it. He fucked hard, battering the cunt on top, not thinking of this female's pleasure but thinking only of that vague idea that she was willing to die for if necessary. Jeff was caught in the game too, and, in his mind, he was a Roman guard who hated both of these women and their belief.
"For the belief," one of them muttered.
It did not make any difference to Jeff which one had muttered that phrase. He only knew that he hated it. He slipped his cock out of the top pussy and rammed into the bottom cunt and started to fuck again.
"For the lions," one of them said.
Jeff put his hands on the female hips and held himself up as he fucked. He threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling and knew that he was doing the right thing. He moved more quickly and more violently in the pussy, and then he pulled out of that one and jabbed back into another pussy-or perhaps even the same one again. He was not watching where he put his cock. He did not care.
With the two women so close together, the pressure of their cunts and on the boy's cock was enormous, and both women were humping, were fucking either the Roman guard's pole or the air. The moans filled with room, moans of joy and pain and all three people knew that they were happy and mindless in the sexual fever.
And then the door came open.
But none of the people in the bed stopped the moaning or the fucking. Out of the corner of her eye, Lynn saw Dick standing there and she smiled as Linda kissed her, as Jeff fucked both of them.
The housewife saw immediately that her husband was no longer shocked nor hurt by her actions, by the things that she did when he was not at home. Last night had changed all of that. Last night had proven to the man that his wife loved him and only him. These special afternoons she spent with others were only interludes before the real love, the love that came to her when Dick got home.
No, Dick did not look hurt. He smiled.
And he started to undress.
"The general!" Lynn cried. "The general will join us!"
And then the two teen-agers noticed him.
Jeff continued to fuck, but Linda now put her eyes on the older man who was stripping there in the doorway. He looked very sexy, she thought, and she remembered that she had thought that when she had seen him the other afternoon, when he had come in on his wife and Linda shaving each other and making love to each other. But now something seemed different about the man, the girl thought, something that made him even better. He did not seem so sad, and he seemed more secure in his manliness. That was it. He seemed more like a powerful man.
When Dick was naked, he walked toward the head of the bed and moved onto the bouncing mattress. He put his cock near the mouths of the two women and held it there. Linda knew what he wanted and she was the first to start to suck on his manly prick.
She took it into her cool mouth and licked it and played with it with her lips, giving it pressure and then releasing that pressure, making him grow a bit in her mouth. Then she let the prick go and Lynn, the general's wife and prisoner, took over," sucking on the cock. The rod was getting hard and full there as it rested between them, being sucked by one and then by another.
When Dick was hard and ready, he looked at the teen-aged boy who still fucked the women so violently.
"Let them go, son," he said softly. "Let the general in there for a while."
Jeff was surprised by his own submission. He pulled his prick out of one of the pussies and left his place of honor without protest. There was something in the older man that made Jeff know that this man was in control. Jeff also knew that this man would not let the women leave his soldier unsatisfied. The boy knew that he would get a chance to fuck the women again after the general was finished with them.
The professor aimed his hard rod at his wife's lovehole, but, before he put it into her, he changed his mind. He wanted to start by fucking this sexy, teen-aged girl, he thought.. And he decided that that was just the way that' he would start.
He slammed his cock into Linda's pussy and rode her and his wife with gusto.
As her husband fucked the girl, as the girl moaned and kissed her face and moved against her own hairless pussy, Lynn thought of all the pain she had experienced in recent days.
Now, she thought, her whole life made sense. She was a martyr for her cause and her her husband understood that and helped her in her martyrdom. That is what made it so special to her now, she thought, and that is why she loved Dick more than she had ever loved him before.
Yes, the woman thought, closing her eyes and feeling the churning bliss of the bed and the bodies around her, that made everything worthwhile. It made the whole world make perfect sense and it put her life in order.
She knew that she would always be happy from now on.
Dick fucked the sexy teen-ager for a few seconds and then he slipped his cock out of her young pussy and steadied himself as he prepared to enter his wife's lovehole. Lynn felt the tip of the prick at the edge of her cunt, and she lifted her hips, moving her pussy under Linda's and opening it even further for her husband, the general.
"Oh, yes, general," she moaned. "Fuck me now."
Dick knew the role that he was supposed to play with his wife. He concentrated on that role for one or two seconds before speaking to the sexy, big-titted Lynn. Then he said his words harshly, as a Roman general should when talking to a martyr.
"I will fuck you hard, slut," he growled, "because you will not give up your faith in that vague idea that you worship so much. I will fuck you hard and hurt you. You and your little sister too."
Lynn, the martyr, tensed her body, and then she heard Linda, her sister, "Let him hurt you if he wants," the teen-ager said. "Let him fuck you if he wants. Save yourself for the lions."
Those were the words that the housewife wanted to hear. Those were the words that gave her the courage that she needed. After all, she thought, her little sister had endured the fucking. She could endure it too.
The gray-haired Roman general drove his cock deep into his wife's willing pussy and began to fuck. He drew the cock out slowly, until only the tip was left in, and then he pushed it back into Lynn with a cruel and cold force. The housewife twitched against the teen-aged girl who lay tied on her naked body, and Linda, to .give the woman more courage, continued to kiss and lick Lynn's face with her cool, young tongue.
In Lynn's mind, the cool tongue began an antidote for the hot Roman sword that was going deep inside of her. The coolness and the heat mixed together in her body to make her climb toward an orgasm of martyrdom, and she wanted the mixture to stay in her forever, for that mixture made her feel very alive.
Jeff, the teen-aged stud, watching the show from the side of the bed, tried to learn from the professor's technique. He noticed how Dick pulled his cock out slowly and then banged it back in with force, and he noticed too that this slow and fast movement filled the housewife with ecstasy. He listened as the professor growled curses as he fucked his wife, cruses that were really unintelligible, but everyone in the room knew that they were curses and that they were directed at the two cunts that lay in front of him.
Dick moved his cock back to Linda's cunt and plowed into her, and the teen-aged girl began to moan as the fire covered her body. Jeff saw that the professor used the same technique with her, and it was working. Jeff tried to engrave the sight of the fucking on his brain, so that he would never forget how to give a girl pleasure. Slow movement out and hard and fast movement in, he thought, slow and then fast. It seemed so simple, Jeff wondered why he had never thought of it before.
With her pussy thrust up against the girl's, Lynn could also feel her husband's cock rub against her as he fucked the sexy teen-ager. The housewife opened her mouth and let Linda run her tongue deep into her mouth. And the girl's tongue worked as the same speed that Dick's cock worked. It was as if Dick's prick was forcing her tongue out of her mouth when it went into her cunt. It was as if Dick was filling her up so much with his cock that there was not any room left in her young body for her tongue too. Lynn liked that idea, and she liked that rhythm, that torturous rhythm, like the falling of a whip on her soft flesh, like the force of a thousand teeth nibbling at her body. This was wonderful, and she knew that it would continue for some time to come.
Then, suddenly, the professor looked at the boy who stood there, waiting for his turn. The boy, he thought, was his favorite soldier and it was time that he shared his women with his favorite young soldier, the future general.
Dick pulled his cock out of Linda's cunt and climbed over the tied and yearning women.
"Let's untie them and share them," he said to Jeff, and the boy agreed readily with a smile.
The professor and the teen-ager went around the bed, untying the two naked females. When they were free, Lynn and Linda caressed each other for a few housewife and lay next to her.
"Spread those legs, you sluts," the general, Dick, growled.
And both of them spread their legs, showing their hairless, damp pussies to the men who had tortured them so beautifully.
The general turned to the young soldier.
"You take the old slut," Dick said. "I will take the young one."
"Yes sir," Jeff said, looking at Lynn with lust in his eyes.
And then the two men climbed on the bed and put their cocks into the pussies. Jeff watched the general for a moment and caught the older man's rhythm and matched it with his own. Slow out and fast in, he kept thinking, and he fucked just like Dick as Lynn moved her legs up and put them around his waist.
