For a beautiful, voluptuous girl of eighteen, Pamela Quincannon, only daughter of a wealthy businessman, had incredibly little knowledge or experience when it came to matters of sex. And her boy friend's occasional fumbling attempts to enlighten the naive virgin only made her more positive that sex was something reserved for the lower animals-definitely not something for a properly raised young woman like her to dirty her hands in. But then Pamela was taken for a little ride by a gang of sadistic teen-agers and given a few practical lessons in her least-favorite subject, and before too long, she found her own animal instinct to be stronger than most.
CHAPTER ONE
Ever since young Tony Bennett came to work for my father as gardener-handyman his attitude toward me seemed deliberately insolent and vulgar. Perhaps because at the time I was not yet seventeen and extremely sensitive, and had led a very sheltered life, and because I did not understand the reason for Tony's obvious interest in me, I found his bold stares and lewd remarks embarrassing and his continual observation of my movements irritating, often frightening, for at times a look of almost bestial ferocity convulsed his handsome face and his eyes flamed with a fierce expression that seemed to strip my body naked.
My knowledge of boys was slight. I was never allowed to mix freely, until, when I was sixteen, my mother died in an automobile accident and, soon after, my father married again. My stepmother, Camelia, was much younger than my father. She was a fleshy, voluptuous woman with jet-black hair and a condescending manner that infuriated me from the onset. She was mean and spiteful, and could never take my real mother's place. I resented and detested Camelia, but respected her for my father's sake.
Father was extremely wealthy, the owner of two newspapers, a racing stable, a yacht, a luxury apartment in London and a large country estate in Surrey. I wanted for nothing, except affection.
After my mother died nobody seemed particularly concerned about my welfare. Camelia made my life miserable, and I loathed her although in father's estimation she could do no wrong. He idolized her, and she made a sexual slave of him. I often saw and heard more than I was intended to, but I was young and very innocent, in fact I had not yet grown accustomed to the (to me) revolting monthly ordeal of menstruation. I had no sexual experience whatever. I had inherited my mother's passionate nature but could not understand the powerful emotions that frequently tugged at me.
On the few occasions when I turned to Camelia for advice and explanation she derided my feelings and made me feel coarse and ashamed. Perhaps I was prejudiced against her and she was merely trying, in her own boisterous, uncouth way, to instruct me and to explain love and sex from her viewpoint. She was a torridly passionate woman, part Italian, a wanton creature. Her loose habits and speech and the careless way she exposed her body in front of the servants caused me acute embarrassment.
My mother had told me the facts of life, but Camelia's way of explaining offended my demure disposition. Mother had always avoided the topic and had multiplied my inner fears and inhibitions by her secrecy. To me, sex was something unclean to be hidden away, a subject no respectable girl ever discussed.
Consequently after I attained the age of seventeen I was continually fighting the impulses of my rapidly maturing and physically overdeveloped body, smothering the natural urges and desires I thought to be evil and immoral.
At seventeen I was tall and well proportioned, with large, firm breasts and robust, well-rounded limbs. I often appraised my figure and, in private, studied my sex organs, wondering at their form, their peculiarity and purpose, and why the soft, moist slit between my thighs, with its glossy covering of reddish-gold hair, was so different from the male genital organs reproduced, in color, in a medical book I had found among my mother's effects. I remember being surprised that she should have such a book, and I read it with a sense of real guilt, but it taught me very little, except visually, for I could not understand most of the medical terms.
Life generally was a bore. My friends were an insipid crowd who never did anything exciting. I suppose Tony Bennett recognized something in me that I was not aware existed-sex appeal. He followed me. Wherever I went he was there, grinning impudently, often rubbing and fingering the front of his pants, but even the significance of these obscene gestures eluded me then. Oh, I was really naive. I suspected that what Tony was doing was wrong, that in some way he was insulting me, mocking and taunting me, yet there seemed no positive evidence of misconduct; in fact I was such a little fool that often when he spoke to me in a certain way I merely smiled and nodded without even knowing what he meant.
Then, gradually, his demeanor coarsened until even I realized his lecherous motives and was shocked by the gross indecency of suggestions he made. One afternoon he confronted me near the orchard. I was carrying a basket filled with peaches. Tony leaned on the gate, obstructing the opening. We were quite alone.
"Hello there," he greeted, smirking. "Those for me?"
"No," I said, frowning. "Let me pass. What are you doing here? I thought this was your day off?"
"It is, but I'm broke. Nowhere to go. Besides, I hoped I'd see you."
"Why? I wish you'd stop pestering me, Tony. If Father-"
He smiled, revealing white, even teeth. He really was very good-looking, tall and big, extremely muscular, with long, curly black hair and dark, flashing eyes. His skin was swarthy, his mouth cruel, the lips thin and sensual. Yet there was something about him that instilled distrust, or perhaps it was fear.
"I've got something for you," he answered. "I've been saving it just for you, darling."
"You have?" I asked with foolish curiosity. "What is it?"
"This," he said hoarsely, and ripped open the front of his pants. I saw his penis flop out, a huge, fleshy roll, hideous and disgusting, thickening and throbbing as he held it tightly and thrust out his loins.
"Like it?" he demanded. "Ever see anything like it, kid? Wouldn't you like ten inches of stiff prick up your gorgeous little twat, darling? A good grind. You're a sweet fuck, young Pamela. Put your hand on this. Feel it, all hard and fat. Go on. Toss me off, kid. I-"
I uttered a cry of mingled dismay and terror, dropped the basket of peaches and ran. Tony did not follow. When I looked back he was rubbing his immense sex organ rapidly, chafing his hand up and down the rigidly swollen shaft, eyes staring and teeth gritted. I ran on.
I did not tell my father. I wanted to but could not face the ordeal. Nor did I say anything to Camelia. She would probably have laughed. That was her way. But that same night I was lying awake, troubled by brooding thoughts and the humidity, shifting restlessly, quite nude, on top of the bed covers, when somebody tried the door of my room. Thinking it was Camelia, I drew the sheets over me and feigned sleep, and received a severe shock when I heard a man chuckle!
The key turned in the lock. As I sat up and twisted around a dark figure lunged, grabbed me and bore me down, pressing my body into the mattress and sprawling on top of me. Shafting moonrays identified Tony Bennett. He was stark naked! His facial expression was demonical, his lank hair disheveled, eyes glaring. I tried to scream but powerful fingers compressed my throat. The covers were torn aside and thrown to the floor.
Tony knelt astride me, bony knees gripping my ribs, his hot, hairy buttocks hard and sweaty against my stomach. I felt the beat of his monstrously erect penis, the vigorous touch of it on my breasts, then the smell of his genitals was strong in my nostrils and he was leaning forward with big hands gripping my wrists and deliberately attempting to push his loathsome organ into my mouth!
Oh, God! I thought I should die! I was sick with fear and loathing. That great, throbbing rill of pulsing flesh kept whacking against my cheeks and trailing the swollen glans across my lips and nostrils, was butted repeatedly against my tightly closed mouth. I felt faint, limp with terror, but I resisted with savage desperation. Revulsion gave me strength, but I was no match for Tony's sinewy power. He heaved his lean body forward until he was kneeling on my upper arms, then squeezed and mauled my tender breasts, ravaging the soft, white globes that no man, until that hideous night, had ever seen, let alone touched. His fingers crushed and bruised my flesh brutally, pulled and rolled the dark nipples.
Then both his hands gripped my head and held it firmly. His thumbs gouged agonizingly into the corners of my mouth, forcing my lips apart, then that nauseating penis was stabbing at the opening again, his testicles slapping and dragging against my chin each time his organ slid past my clamped lips.
But gradually he was forcing my mouth open, and all my thrashing efforts were futile. I kicked and writhed, felt his bloated penis prod my lips again and begin to intrude, and in that moment I went berserk, managed to free one arm and punched my assailant in the face.
Surprised and hurt, he relaxed his cruel grip, and I twisted free, writhed from under him and almost got off the bed before he grabbed me again. Strong fingers closed like a vise around my ankle, and I cried out when his other hand delved brutally between my buttocks into the soft folds of my vagina. He was laughing, clutching my tender slit. He fell with me on the bed with his right arm around my neck, positioned so that my face was thrust into the bed covers and my bottom was grossly elevated. In that grotesque posture I suffered the rough groping of his left hand between my protruding buttocks and quivering thighs, and felt the urgent jabbing of his turgid penis as he tried to insert it from behind.
The gross, throbbing mass rammed relentlessly into my virgin aperture, and in that moment of intense pain and terror I screamed. Tony's right hand reached down somehow and grasped my left breast, squeezed painfully, tugging at my tender flesh while at the same time his other hand kept the cheeks of my bottom wide apart and facilitated the enormous intrusion of his brutally gouging penis.
I screamed repeatedly, thrashed and writhed, sobbing and pleading. Tony was like a wild animal, cursing, growling, heaving and surging, panting obscenities. We fell off the bed onto the floor, and the impact broke the loathsome contact briefly, but Tony sprawled across me when I attempted to squirm away, and a frantic clutch on my throat choked off my outcry.
Then he was astride my waist again, squatting, and that twitching, shuddering, hideous thing, that nauseating, monstrous penis, was rubbing and prodding against my face, smearing horrible slime on my skin and trailing its foulness across my lips, and the rank smell of it was in my nostrils, sickening me to my very soul and creating a confusion of conflicting emotions and mental upheaval that threatened to unhinge my mind.
Tony gripped my hair and jerked my head forward, brought that loathsome organ still closer to my mouth. I fought. God! How I fought. Then the strength seemed to drain from me and I lay gasping, sick with fear and horror and disgust, sobbing and moaning while Tony, smirking, breathing heavily, cupped one hand behind my head and held his tremendous penis in the other, inexorably forcing the broad, pulsing glans against my tightly compressed lips.
Suddenly a gush of thick, whitish fluid spurted, pumped furiously and spattered all over my face, got in my nostrils and covered my mouth, and ran down into the hollow of my neck. Its strong, pungent odor provoked immediate vomiting. I hung over Tony's muscular thigh and puked repeatedly, flopped when he pulled his leg away.
He stood up, furiously rubbing the wrinkled foreskin of his penis, performing what I later learned was masturbation, and extracting a further flow of ropey sperm. (At least I had learned from reading mother's medical book what semen was.) His face was red, and he was sweating profusely.
"All right, you useless cunt," he mouthed angrily. "You dodged it that time but I'll get you. I'll fuck you if it's the last thing I ever do, you red-haired little twat, and next time I'll make damn sure you stay put. Now go ahead and scream your stupid head off. There's nobody about, nobody here but you and me. I'll be back, kid."
He shook his drooping, relaxing penis. Even in its semiflaccid state it was huge, I was too shocked to reply or to abuse him. He left me lying there, retching violently. After he had gone, reaction brought hysteria and tears. I was absolutely terrified of the consequences, remembering all the awful warnings Mother had given me, and what I had read in that frightening book. I was trembling as I stumbled to the bathroom and frantically washed away every trace of that revolting, reeking male organ, bathed my parts and my sore, reddened breasts.
I had never actually seen a man's sexual organs before. The ordeal made a lasting impression on my untutored mind, I could not erase the memory of it, or disperse the mental images. The shock lingered, yet amid the confusion and misery was a flutter of subconscious curiosity, a fixation in my mind of the hugeness of the male penis in a state of gross erection. I could not rid myself of the obscene phallic picture. Nothing I had seen illustrated in the medical book gave any indication of the appalling size of the male organ. In my simplicity I assumed that because Tony Bennett possessed so enormous a penis all men were the same. The conviction heightened my revulsion, and in my blind, illogical fear I imagined myself already pregnant, contaminated. My shame was so acute I writhed with the inner torment of it.
Even then I would have kept my guilty secret. But my father caught me in a weak moment, crying, and demanded to know the reason. Impulsively I blurted out the whole story, told him everything exactly as it happened.
I was there when he sent for Tony Bennett. The youth slouched in, smirking, chewing gum, but the sneer vanished when my father, a big, powerful man (at one time an instructor in the Marine Corps) punched him in the stomach, then in the face, gave him a sound thrashing and finally fired him, threw him out, and threatened to report the matter to the police if Tony Bennett ever molested me again.
Tony departed. He made no threats of retribution, but gave me a look fraught with meaning. Dabbing his cut mouth, he turned in the gateway.
"I'll remember you," was all he said.
CHAPTER TWO
All that happened a year ago. I never forgot my ordeal, but the incident was less vivid in my mind. During that year I developed considerably, mentally and physically. I had always been voluptuous, but now the maturity of my figure aroused comment wherever I went.
I remained shy and aloof. My outlook did not change. It was just as narrow as it had been on my seventeenth birthday when my father's junior gardener-handyman tried to rape me. For weeks after that incident I had stayed in my room, refusing to meet anybody, especially my stepmother. I imagined her to be secretly laughing at me, mocking my innocence. Father spent so much time away from home on business I seldom saw him.
But eventually the natural resilience of youth overruled depression and self-consciousness, and I emerged, like a moth from a cocoon, and resumed normal activities. I had not told any of my friends about Tony Bennett's conduct, but somehow they learned, or suspected, the reason for his dismissal, and I was subjected to constant leg-pulling and ridicule.
I tried to ignore it, and was helped by one special friend, a boy named Keith Mannering. Keith was nice, very tall, with long blond hair. He was nineteen, lean and exceptionally good-looking.
His parents were wealthy. Keith always behaved correctly toward me. He pandered to my slightest whim. Apart from an occasional kiss his interest seemed purely platonic. We had a lot of fun together, at least I thought then that it was fun. Keith was a quiet, reserved type. I never knew what he was really thinking or plumbed the true depth of his character, until one sultry summer night when-But I will come to that.
Camelia had arranged a party to celebrate my birthday. I had not wanted it, and I did not appreciate it, but Keith looked forward to it. Recently, he had become rather morose and sullen, preoccupied. Often, I caught him staring at "me in much the same way as Tony Bennett had done. My grasp of life had been extended during the past year but I was still naive and trusting and there was so much I did not understand.
It was a warm, close evening. In my bedroom overlooking spacious lawns and gardens I was preparing for the party. Fresh from the shower, I stood before the long closet mirror and inspected my pink and white flesh, the body that was still largely a mystery to me. I handled my large, firm breasts, lifted the full, heavy globes, squeezed them together, wondering at the thrill of indefinable pleasure I experienced when my fingers caressed and stroked the rich red nipples. I pulled the nipples, elongated them, and was surprised when they began to harden and swell. Camelia, who seemed to make a point of intruding into the bathroom or my bedroom and often caught me unclothed, said I had gorgeous breasts and a beautiful figure, that she wished her bottom was as smooth as mine and as rounded. I had always considered her buttocks to be extremely plump and mature. Appraising mine, twisting this way and that, I was not greatly impressed. To me, the twin half-moons of my bottom seemed indecent, the dusky division anything but attractive.
Similarly, the bush of reddish-gold hair covering the gently swelling mound above my vagina intrigued but puzzled me. I fingered it, pulled at the silky strands and let them curl back. Parting the growth, standing with legs astride, I examined the pouting lips of my genital parts, and felt acute distaste. But when I gently rubbed my finger in the moist slit a peculiar sensation was produced, and I experimented further until, remembering what Tony Bennett had attempted to do, I tentatively inserted my index finger into my vagina. Through other books, since acquired, my sex education had increased although my experience remained negative. I knew the function of clitoris and ovaries, vulva and womb, but rarely allowed my mind to dwell on these matters. The bogey of menstruation had ceased to frighten me.
Opening my legs wider, I studied the exposure of my genitals in the mirror, poked my finger higher and felt the clitoris respond. The sensation was mildly exciting. Turning, I bent over and thrust my bottom out so that I could see my organs and my anus reflected. The sight of my anal aperture, smooth and purple-brown like the petals of a pansy, always offended me, yet somehow I found the exposure fascinating, and the gaping vaginal fissure with its surrounding of glinting hair resembled some furry animal, all mouth and-
I straightened, frowning, startled by the trend of my thoughts. I was at an age, Camelia said, when men found me most attractive. She would have guided me, I think, but I would not listen. My dislike of her had deepened. I thought of her as a conniving intruder. Certainly she interfered with my life considerably, especially in my father's absence, dictating to me, and I hated the way she was always pawing me, usually in the privacy of my bedroom, kissing me and touching me intimately, and forever talking about men. There was something coarse and pagan about Camelia. Perhaps these were the very qualities my father admired most.
I sighed. I missed my mother terribly. The fleshy cheeks of my bottom quivered as I crossed the room and picked up the party dress laid out on my bed. I put on shell-pink bra and brief panties, and shrugged into the frock. When I looked for my can of new hair spray it was missing. Remembering having loaned it to Camelia, I frowned in annoyance, called to her through the door separating my bedroom from hers. Camelia could never understand why I kept that door locked.
Receiving no response, knowing she should be in her room, I knocked, called again, then, when she did not answer, I went out into the hall and strode impatiently to the main entry of her bedroom. I was about to knock loudly when I heard a series of prolonged gasps and moaning sighs, and the creaking of protesting bed springs. Thinking that my stepmother was ill, I tried the door, found it open, and thrust it wide.
I entered. The lights were on. Mouth suddenly very dry, I stopped. I did not speak. Camelia lay on the large, rumpled bed, stark naked, her superb legs wide apart, knees raised. Her arms were clasped around the chest of a naked man sprawled between her plump, white thighs. His dark head rested in the deep valley dividing her heaving breasts, and I could see every detail of the man's hairy genitals and the rapid movements of his muscular buttocks, his huge testicles dangling and convulsing as he thrashed his great, rigid stalk of a penis into the wet, clutching gash of my stepmother's vagina.
I was profoundly shocked, but could not look away. I heard Camelia mutter the man's name, and realized she was fornicating with our chauffeur, Clive Merton, a husky male aged twenty-five who had only been with us for a month.
Camelia's limbs were taut, quivering with strain, her fingers digging deeply into Clive's bare back. Every time he raised his bottom I could see his thick, glistening penis withdraw to the extreme lip of my stepmother's wet, frothy split, and saw the dark, grayish folds of flesh drag and pull with the distended organ, clinging to its bulging, throbbing mass and sucking right out, then in again when he lowered himself and drove his great cudgel deep, plunging it in until I heard the soggy smack of his stomach contacting Camelia's writhing belly.
Every lurid, shattering detail was impressed starkly on my mind, the way Camelia's anus puckered tightly then opened each time she thrust up to meet Clive's vigorous lunges, the wet sounds of her flapping vagina following every rampant stroke, her moaning outbursts of impassioned obscenity, the man's animal grunting, his powerful straining, the ridge of gristle where his stiff penis was rooted amid the curling hairs round his crinkly anus and the folds of his scrotum joined with the dark flesh approaching the elongated anal cavity-I saw all this, and much, much more. Little bubbles of moisture gathered at the opening of Camelia's gaping vent and burst as that formidable penis intruded crudely again, impaling her brutally, incredibly, with a smooth, easy rhythm and powerful, pistoning motion I could not help gaping at despite waves of sickening disgust, battering right up into her shuddering belly and causing her limbs to jerk and tremor.
Each violent surge forced Camelia's knees higher and widened the spread of her sumptuous thighs. Clive's whole weight was supported on his knees and elbows. When he raised up there was hardly any pressure on Camelia at all, but each time he rammed in, his rib cage forced her legs apart until the backs of her thighs pressed against his stomach and his pelvis was hard up against her black, hairy mound.
They were completely engrossed, unaware of my entry. I withdrew, white-faced and shaken, and indignant. Father and I had never been really close, but I hated to see that creature making a fool of him.
Outside, in the hall, I leaned against the closed door and closed my eyes, trying to shut out the sight of that great cow ass heaving and splaying, huge breasts flopping, and that immensely bloated male organ all wet and stiff and steaming, plunging in and out, squelching and sucking, those huge, wrinkled testicles hanging down below the tightly compressed cleft of the man's pale buttocks-God! How could Camelia let him? How could she enjoy it? And with Clive Merton, a hired man, a stranger. Would I ever understand?
Walking back to my room I felt positively sick. The incident brought back my ordeal with Tony Bennett, and I never felt less like going to a party.
It was late, nearly midnight. I had not been out so late before, but I felt safe with Keith and did not want to go back home to Camelia. Brilliant moonlight revealed every contour of Keith's handsome face as we lounged on the back seat of his open sports car under the trees. I did not object to petting, and we kissed and cuddled for a while, but my confidence quickly evaporated when, presently, Keith, who seemed strangely excited and was flushed although he had not been drinking anything alcoholic, began putting his tongue in my mouth. I did not like this, and objected, but instead of refraining he ignored my wishes and started feeling my breasts and my bottom. Again I remonstrated. His attitude was so different, so unlike him. I was frightened by his insistence, really alarmed when he embraced me roughly and I felt the hard ridge of his stiffened penis jutting through his pants.
I pushed him away repeatedly, but he persisted, and eventually I tried to get out of the car. Keith restrained me. I had never seen him in such a mood. He whispered, making obscene suggestions and laughing when I protested. It was not until a long time afterward I discovered somebody at the party had given him a cigarette with narcotics in it.
But his desire must have always been there, the drug merely brought it to a head. I could do nothing with him. He made demands, insisted on probing his tongue into my mouth, and finally began molesting me. It commenced with his hand on my knee, then stroking my inner thigh and working up toward my groin. I had not realized he was so strong. Despite my objections and frantic struggles he got his hand inside the leg of my panties and felt of my vagina, cupped the whole of it warm and trembling in the hollow of his hand and squeezed gently. I did not mind that so much, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. But he did not stop there.
His hand slid around over the curve of my hip to my bottom, clasped the yielding cheek and mauled it lewdly. When his fingers dug into the deep cleft and delved toward my anus I got really mad, but he laid me back and pinned me against the upholstery, forced his hand between my buttocks, down into the junction of my thighs, and felt of my vagina again. Then he attempted to pull my panties down. I slapped him then. Almost in tears, I voiced loud appeals. But he was like a lunatic.
Grasping my right wrist, he conveyed my hand to the bulge made by his straining penis and forced my fingers against it. I struggled, panting and protesting angrily, slapped him repeatedly. He had my briefs down around my hips and kept trying to push his knee between my thighs and force them apart. Finding the restriction created by the panties still too great, he concentrated on removing them altogether, but I managed to frustrate his fumbling efforts until finally he became impatient and, abandoning further attempts, suddenly thrust me back against the seat and held me with his right arm across my throat while with his left hand he opened the front of his trousers and flopped his penis out.
I cringed, whimpering, terrified, thinking he had gone mad. His organ was not particularly long but very thick and swollen, jerking furiously and expanding continually as he handled it, shaking and rubbing it and drawing the wrinkled foreskin back until the broad head glowed dull purple. Kneeling on the car seat, he extended the pulsing roll of flesh disgustingly, grinning lewdly at my shrinking reaction, and instructed me to "toss him off." I did not know what he meant, but realized when he grasped my hand again and closed my fingers round his turgid organ and began jerking my hand up and down the gross shaft, covering then exposing the glans and talking all the time in a soothing manner, pleading, explaining, apologizing, then becoming impatient and increasingly aggressive.
I was terrified. All I could think of was to humor him and wait for an opportunity to escape. I tried not to look but could not avoid seeing his stiff organ throbbing and beating against my hand and wrist. He forced my fingers lower, right to the sweaty root of his penis, ripped his fly wider and exposed his testicles. The strong animal odor rose vividly in my nostrils. He kept telling me to "whank" faster. Afraid of what he might do if I did not comply, I rubbed and pulled at his jutting penis without really knowing what I was doing, all the time begging him to put it away and threatening to tell his father.
That was a mistake. He became spiteful. I think I could have endured what he was making me do if it prevented him from wanting the other thing. I knew I could never go through what I had seen my stepmother doing with the chauffeur without going completely to pieces. The horror of that filthy scene nerved me to try and placate Keith and hasten the conclusion of his demented behavior while every touch, every pulsating movement of and loathsome contact with his thrusting, enormously distended genital organ caused me such acute mental distress and shudderingly revolting anguish that only by a supreme effort of will was I able to refrain from screaming hysterics and actual nausea. My whole shocked body revolted, but I persevered in sheer desperation.
But now Keith was no longer satisfied with my fumbling, amateurish efforts. His language was appallingly foul as he opened the car door and abruptly pushed me out on the grass. Before I could scramble up he followed me down and wrestled me to a supine position, then sat on my stomach and knelt on my arms while he raised my dress above my breasts, tugging and jerking, tearing it in his frenzy. Squatting higher on my torso, panting, he quickly worked my panties right down and past my hips.
I lay there, sobbing, unable to fight any more even when he moved back, crouched between my legs and jerked them apart. Warm air caressed my exposed vagina. I pleaded, tried to cover the aperture with my hands, but Keith denied me even that. Saliva appeared at the corners of his mouth.
He groaned, clutched his torrid penis fiercely and thrust it toward my split, wrenched my hands away.
When I felt the rigid shaft prod my trembling vagina I lost all reason and control and thrashed about like some demented wild creature, kicking and clawing desperately, and by the very fury of my renewed struggles prevented Keith from inserting his thick member. He tried repeatedly, but panic gave me added strength and I resisted strenuously. Finally, gasping and sweating profusely, he desisted. Squatting between my spread legs, he stared at my exposed parts. I heard him groan.
"All right," he muttered thickly. "If you won't let me put in it at least finish what you started. Take hold of it, Pamela. Please! Oh, I'm-sorry! I'm sorry! Help me! I'm crazy for you. I've bottled it up for so long. Now I can't. Please, Pamela! Why won't you let me fuck you? WHY? Come on, darling! Just a few rubs. I've got to put it in. Don't you understand? I've GOT TO!"
His nostrils were flared, his eyes glassy. He was no longer handsome, just a coarse, slobbering animal flaunting the emblem of his masculinity, his face twitching, lips quivering, teeth gritted.
Just for a fleeting instant a stab of pity intruded on my turbulent emotions, a subconscious twinge of instinctive understanding, or was it conscience? Perhaps it was my fault, my ignorance to blame. Maybe Camelia was right and I was-peculiar. The brief, disturbing ripple passed and my terror and disgust were undiminished, my resolve strengthened by fear. I knew what I must do, the simple, logical solution. Release the source of seething passion and lust would evaporate like the morning mist. I had seen it happen with Tony Bennett, and Keith was no different. All men were filthy, lusting animals. But Keith would regret his deceit and folly.
I forced myself to reach out and grasp his vile penis, manipulated the hard core urgently, with frantic haste, knowing that what I did was the lesser of two evils. In his present condition Keith was quite capable of doing me permanent injury. But even as I clutched the swollen, throbbing flesh and felt it inflate and become still harder, and I commenced the brisk friction, the reverberation of motorcycle engines penetrated my awareness, and I realized several powerful machines were converging on that isolated place.
Keith, hearing them also, swore. I withdrew my hand and quickly pulled my panties up, adjusted my dress. But Keith made no attempt to conceal his erect penis. He just knelt there, gaping foolishly, and watched six riders-four youths and two girls approach the car and halt their motorcycles amid crackling ferns and flattened grasses.
CHAPTER THREE
The newcomers were dressed alike in tight, black jeans and leather jackets. Moonlight emphasized their various characteristics. Laughing, expressing crude remarks, they crowded close. The one who appeared to be the leader was big and powerfully built. I could not, as yet, see his face, but somehow he seemed very familiar. The other youths were aged between nineteen and twenty. One was stocky, thick-set, quite good-looking, with long blond hair and pale-blue eyes, another was big and rather flabby, heavily freckled. His hair, also very long and coarse, was a horrible ginger color, his eyes a dirty brown, pink-rimmed and deeply shadowed. The third was a Negro, tall and slim and wiry. His hair was less fuzzy than that of most colored youths, and he had a thin mustache. The girls, too, were in direct contrast, one tall and slender, a natural blonde with high, pointed breasts and extremely prominent buttocks, the other short and very dark, extremely attractive and fleshy. Her thighs were particularly robust, her bottom broad and plump, the cheeks heavy, well rounded without the slightest sag. She had unusually large breasts that jutted audaciously and seemed quite firm. Her complexion was rather spotty, whereas the blonde's skin was unblemished but heavily made-up, her lips thickly caked with a hideous shade of purple lipstick and her long eyelashes stiff with mascara. I detected, from her manner, even before she spoke, a mean, vicious nature and libidinous disposition. The other girl seemed a boisterous, reckless and immoral type.
I remained seated on the ground and watched them saunter close. Only when the girls made pointed remarks, and giggled, did Keith think to cover his genitals. He started to get up but the stocky youth placed a booted foot against Keith's chest and pushed him down, then held him there without obvious effort. The tall leader was relieving himself in the bushes. When he turned around pulling up the zip fastener on his fly, I received another distinct shock. It was Tony Bennett.
He approached, stood close to me, smirking in that horrible way he had.
"Hello, Pamela," he said. "Having fun?"
I shrank back, and he laughed derisively.
"Don't be scared," he jeered. "I'm not going to hurt you. Fact is, you're real valuable merchandise."
He snapped his fingers. The stocky youth promptly produced a pack of cigarettes. Tony extracted one, put it between his thin lips. The blonde girl lit it for him, leaned on his shoulder possessively, chewing gum and studying me insolently. Tony kissed her on the mouth. I saw their tongues curl together. He made a sweeping gesture, introduced his friends, naming them. I tried to conceal my nervousness, dreading a repetition of that awful night a year ago, wondering how Tony Bennett had known I was there, under the trees, with Keith Mannering.
His friends regarded me stonily. The blond youth was Phil, the ginger-haired character named Eddie, the Negro called Brick. The slender blonde, Diane, smiled disdainfully when Tony referred to her as "his girl." Celia, the voluptuous girl, seemed completely absorbed, fascinated by Keith. She stood beside Phil, smirking down at the youth sprawled on the ground with his fly gaping open.
"What are you doing here?" I asked foolishly. "Please go away and leave me alone, and take that horrible pig with you."
Tony's eyebrows lifted. He grinned.
"I thought you two were having a whale of a time," he said. "When I saw him kneeling there with his cock out I thought-little Pamela has grown up fast, she knows what it's all about, not like a year ago, you bitch, when you got me fired."
"I'm-I'm sorry about that. You shouldn't have molested me."
"Is that what I did? Was that what your boy friend was doing, too? Or does he get special treatment?"
"I hate him! He's no different from the rest, a filthy animal! And what do you want, Tony Bennett? I don't know how you happened to come by just when you did, but-"
"It was no accident, darling," he interrupted. "We followed you from the party. I've waited a long time to get even with you, and your old man."
"Get ... even? What are you going to do?"
"Nothing violent. Don't get alarmed. You're coming with us, that's all. We've got a nice, secluded spot all ready. You'll stay there until your father pays ten grand to get you back. You must be worth that much to the bastard. Who's your boy friend?"
I ignored the question, gaped blankly.
"You mean-" I stammered. "You can't seriously intend to kidnap me! You'd never get away with anything so outrageously stupid."
"No? Well, I don't intend to argue."
He nudged Keith in the side with the toe of a muddy boot.
"Who are you, kid?" he demanded. Keith, looking scared, told him. Tony sniggered, ground his boot harder into Keith's flesh.
"He isn't so aggressive now," he sneered. "What's happened to all that prick he was flashing when we showed up?"
"Let's take a look, man," Brick said. "You never said Quincannon's daughter was such a doll, Tony. She give you a hard time, Keith, boy? Maybe you didn't use the right approach."
"Or maybe she just isn't interested in what he's got," Eddie mouthed. "Let's do like the man says and take a look."
"Let's do that," Celia agreed quickly. "I'm bored. Let's have some fun. Hold him, Phil."
I sprang up, struggling, but Eddie grabbed one arm, Brick the other. Phil squatted and leaned his weight on Keith's legs. Tony sat behind the wheel of Keith's sports car, smoking, smirking cynically.
I sprang up. Instantly Diane grabbed me, and she possessed a sinewy strength far greater than mine. She thrust me toward the car. Tony grasped my arm and dragged me onto the seat beside him. He shut the door, ignoring my frantic protests and appeals.
"Shut up, and watch," he snapped. "Maybe you'll learn something."
I could not believe he actually meant to kidnap me and demand money from my father. It was too utterly fantastic. I thought it was just a threat to frighten me before he revealed his real motive for following me-sexual assault, his way of getting even.
Terrified, I sat trembling. Celia crouched beside Keith, squatting partly on his hip and leaning against his chest. She lowered herself, kissed him on the mouth, then ruffled his hair. Laughing, she changed her position and lay across his body with her breasts flattened against his thigh and her flushed face close to his open fly. Keith squirmed and voiced halfhearted protests when she brazenly pulled the fly opening wider, then thrust her hand inside his pants. Squealing with triumph, she pulled out his semiflaccid penis, tugged at it cruelly, stretching its glans. Amid uncouth laughter, she shook the fat organ, shrieked with raucous excitement again when it began to stiffen.
"It's gorgeous!" she declared. "She must be frigid, Eddie, if she isn't interested in this sweet roll. Man, it's fab! Mmm! My God! I really go for this character."
She rolled the foreskin right back, stretching the skin tightly over the bulging glans, pushed her clutching fingers right down to the very roots, among glinting, golden hair, and cupped the gasping youth's scrotum, felt his testicles, then exposed them, and moaned as rising passion churned her insides. She captured the swelling penis again, conveyed it to her generous mouth and covered it with wet kisses, pressing her lips repeatedly to the straining stalk and finally taking the swollen glans into her mouth and sucking it avidly, writhing her mouth up and down the thickened organ until it seemed she would choke herself with the spongy mass.
Words cannot describe the repugnance I felt, watching her kissing and sucking and slobbering over that jerking, turgid penis. Presently, she unbuckled Keith's belt and opened his pants fully, pushed them down over his hips. Phil tugged them right off, removing Keith's shoes in the process. Celia lifted Keith's shirt, bared his white belly. His throbbing organ jutted hugely, and he writhed as if in torment, pleading and cursing.
Laughing, Celia masturbated him slowly. Her dark eyes were smoldering pits of desire, misty, half closed. Her other hand fumbled with her own belt, unfastened it. She released her tight jeans and gradually worked them down past her fleshy hips, lifted her bottom and eased the crumpled garment over the broad cheeks. She wore nothing underneath. As she bent over Keith again I could see the dense bush of hair, black as a raven's wing, sprouting above, below, and around the puffy lips of her large vagina and as far down the cleft as the commencement of her anus.
Still stroking and manipulating Keith's now immense penis, Celia abandoned herself completely and, squirming to a squatting posture astride Keith's chest, facing his feet, she pulled the fleshy cheeks away from the deep crease of her bottom and spread her plump thighs wide, thrust her buttocks out obscenely and, while the others sniggered and voiced crude encouragement, handling their genitals through their clothing, leaned back and forced her vagina against Keith's reddened features, then waggled her hips and bottom furiously, rubbing her sex organs across his nose and mouth and compelling him to smell the ruttish cleft. With utterly wanton delight she worked his nose into the dusky split, and then into the puckered orifice of her anus, twisting around to watch his reactions but never relaxing her hold on his penis.
Eventually she turned completely around and, facing Keith, sat briefly on his stomach, smirking down into his anguished face.
"Poor boy," she teased. "That spoiled brat wouldn't let you screw her. Never mind, darling. You can fuck me instead."
She raised up, stood in a stooping position astride his hips, one leg removed altogether from the impeding jeans, separated the lips of her vagina and lowered herself gradually until Keith's erect organ butted against the dark folds. Celia guided it in, sank down on it with a cry of delight, and commenced heaving her body jerkily up and down, impaling herself on that gross penis until her bottom squashed against Keith's thighs and the pouting folds of her vagina splayed wetly against his hairy pelvis, then lifting and allowing the slippery shaft to partly withdraw before settling onto it again.
There was a look of sheer carnal rapture on her face. All the time she was surging up and down she watched Keith's changing expressions. There was no need to hold him down now but the youths maintained their mutual grasp. The other girl, Diane, was obviously enjoying the spectacle and Keith's humiliation. She kept pressing her hands between her thighs and uttering loud sighs, meanwhile Celia puffed and panted, laboring furiously, answering lewd comments with remarks equally crude and obscene.
Every time I looked away Tony twisted my arm and compelled me to watch. I felt numbed inside, choked with repugnance. My whole nauseated body shrank from the degradation I could visualize happening to me when those disgusting young beasts concentrated their revolting lust on my helpless flesh.
But there was no escape. I sat there like a graven image, and presently heard Celia voice gasping satisfaction. She removed herself from Keith and knelt beside him, grasped his ponderous penis and masturbated quickly until Keith thrashed about and groaned, and I saw the milky sperm shoot from his jerking organ and puddle on his white belly and thighs, some of it adhering glutinously to Celia's hand.
She wiped her fingers on Keith's shirt, gave his penis a final tug, then stood up and hauled her jeans from around her ankle, contriving to insert the other foot before she overbalanced. The black material concealed her dimpled bottom. Sniggering, she fastened her belt, sniffed her fingers and wrinkled her nose. Diane laughed.
"You're a randy little whore," she said. "Was it nice?"
Celia shrugged, tossed her long hair back.
"Ask him," she answered. "I'll bet anything you like he enjoyed it. The poor bastard was well ready. That stupid little cow must have ice in her veins. But it will thaw before she sees dear Daddy again. Let him up, Phil. And give him his pants back. I almost feel sorry for him."
Tony flipped his cigarette stub away. I could see a prominent bulge where his penis pushed out the front of his trousers, and his swarthy face was darkly flushed, but he made no attempt to molest me.
"Don't cringe, darling," he told me curtly. "You haven't seen anything yet, and your turn will come soon enough. I'll make you damn sorry you got me fired, and your old man will sweat blood before I'm done. Phil, you and Brick bring the kid over here."
Keith's expression indicated astonishment, fear, lingering lust, and shocked indignation. Held firmly, his shirt hanging loosely from his pants, he faced Tony nervously.
"That's a useful tool you've got, man," Tony remarked. "Celia appreciates a fat prick if that whimpering bitch doesn't. But you'll learn to like it, won't you, Pamela? I've got plans for you, baby. Listen, kid. What's your name? Keith? Right. Now listen. And stop flinching. I'm not going to hurt you. We've done you a favor, Keith. You've had your cock where only the privileged few can brag they've been, so why aren't you smiling, you miserable bastard?"
"Why not take him, too?" Celia asked, standing with hands on her hips. "I'd keep him happy. Wouldn't you like that, Keith? I'd teach you things even your-"
"No," Tony said decisively. "I need him to take a message to old man Quincannon. You listening, Keith? Tell Pamela's father we've got his spoiled virtuous daughter and if he wants her back it'll cost him ten grand, otherwise we'll ship her out of the country to some friends of mine in France who have connections in Morocco among the white slavers. If he goes to the police we'll sell his little girl into a whoremonger's den and he'll never see darling Pamela again. Be sure he understands that. He'll get instructions over the telephone about the money. You get that?"
Keith nodded. He was so scared he could hardly speak.
"Mr. Quincannon is in Europe," he blurted. "But I'll speak to Pamela's stepmother. I'll do anything you say, only please-please don't harm Pamela."
Tony spread his hands in a gesture of mock astonishment.
"Why would we do that?" he demanded. "We might educate her a bit, and we'll make sure she doesn't get bored. But we won't hurt a hair on her tight little cunt. Get going. And remember, you don't know anything and you've seen nothing. If you make trouble for us I might just turn vicious, if you see what I mean, so just deliver the message and then keep your mouth shut."
Keith swallowed noisily. Tony allowed him to slide behind the sports-car wheel. For a few brief moments Keith stared at me. Neither of us spoke. Tony stood beside me, gripping my arm. I wanted to cry out, to shout and scream and beg Keith not to leave me, but I knew if I appealed to him and he tried to respond he would suffer further humiliation and possibly violence. Fear formed a cold, hard knot in the pit of my stomach. As Keith engaged the clutch harshly and drove away a spurt of urine escaped my bladder and trickled warmly down the insides of my taut thighs.
I resorted to tears, but Tony was not moved. He dragged me toward his motorcycle, produced a length of strong cord from his jacket pocket and bound my wrists tightly together, then mounted the machine, started it, and forced me to sit astride the seat. The others were already mounted and waiting, gunning the powerful motors deafeningly.
Headlight beams stabbed through swirling exhaust fumes as the youthful gang drove recklessly into the night.
CHAPTER FOUR
The place we eventually arrived at was an old farmhouse, a rambling ruin, long abandoned and overgrown with ivy, the whole surrounding area choked with weeds and nettles several feet high. Massive, spreading trees screened the crumbling buildings which were situated at the end of a winding lane in some remote part of the county I had never been in, a narrow track almost hidden by rank ferns, an indication of the extreme isolation. Recently, however, vehicle tires had left tread marks through the dense, black-rooted stems.
In the brilliant moonlight the squat structure looked eerie. The stillness when the motorcycle engines were cut was weird and terrifying. There was hardly a sound. The gang wheeled their machines into a derelict barn. Tony pushed me roughly toward the ghostly house. All the windows I could see except one at the front were boarded up. Eddie entered ahead of the others and lighted a kerosene lamp.
Tony thrust me up some worn stone steps and across the threshold. I stumbled, fell among a litter of straw and newspapers. The large room smelled musty. Cobwebs festooned great beams and spanned every corner and crevice. Despite my agitation I noticed items of furniture, mostly junk, although some of it had obviously been brought there for the gang's use, and as my eyes became accustomed to the flickering lamp glimmer I saw modern articles: transistor radios and record-players; stacks of records, carelessly piled; binoculars and expensive cameras; clothing heaped on chairs and boxes; and several crates containing bottled liquor. There were several old sofas piled with cushions and blankets, a genuine antique walnut table, numerous suitcases. Through an open door I saw a spacious kitchen and canned foods stacked on a long table.
Tony dragged me to my feet and pushed me through, into this kitchen, off which three other doors opened. Further details registered automatically on my clouded, seething mind-a small cooking stove, gas-operated, and a refrigerator, similarly powered. By what devious method the delinquents responsible for abducting me had contrived to reconnect the gas supply was a mystery I was in no fit state of mind to unravel. A lot of effort and planning had gone into their evil scheme. All three adjoining doors were wide open. One gave access to a cellar and pantry-a damp, bleak space that reeked of gasoline, another, at the top of some stone steps, led into a storeroom cluttered with equipment I recognized from a visit to a film studio-arc lamps, coils of cables, an enormous camera mounted on rubber-tired wheels, and a host of other accessories. I glimpsed theatrical costumes and props, painted scenery.
Eddie lighted another lamp, then a third which he carried through into the final opening. Tony thrust me ahead of him into what had formerly been a large bedroom. The window was boarded up, but the yellow lamplight revealed a sagging brass bedstead with thick mattress, a chair, and small table. There was a strong bolt on the outside of the heavy door. The floor was stone with a covering of mildewed matting.
Confronted by these dismal, depressing surroundings, I hesitated. Tears came again, and I turned quickly and implored Tony to let me go. He just laughed, took a clasp knife from his jacket pocket and flicked out the blade, then sliced through the cord binding my wrists and pushed me violently into the gloomy prison. I stumbled against the bed and sprawled across the stinking mattress. Tony shut the door, stood grinning at me through a grimy square of thick glass set in the upper planks. His jeering voice came clearly through an open fanlight above the door.
"Make the best of it, baby-you may be here a long time. It depends on Daddy. Scream your head off. Nobody will hear. Later, maybe tomorrow, we'll have some fun. You're going to star in a movie, darling. But you'll find out all about that soon enough."
He chuckled. I heard the bolt grate in the socket. Tony's smirking face disappeared. For a long time I just sat there, stunned, petrified with fear. Beyond the door a record-player or radio was blaring. Presently I got off the bed and approached the door, banged on it foolishly. Through the small pane I could see into the kitchen and the "lounge". Both connecting doors were wide open.
Eddie and Phil, seated on boxes, were eating, tearing flesh from what appeared to be a roast turkey. There was a profusion of edibles on the table and several bottles of milk. Celery lay among tomatoes, cheese, and bread, unwrapped butter and a litter of beer cans and pickle jars, used cups and crumpled newspapers. In the lounge, Diane and Celia were dancing, cavorting wantonly to the pagan music. They had kicked off their boots and removed their leather jackets. Watched approvingly by the young Negro, they gyrated and twisted in a seductive, hip-swaying routine that developed into a striptease. Both girls seemed obsessed with a sudden urge toward exhibitionism. Diane removed her tiny, inadequate uplift bra and flung it across the room. She undulated her slender body, high, pointed breasts jogging and shaking, her bottom wagging energetically, stomach sucking in and out.
Celia, gripped by the same mania, exposed her large, imposing bosom and shook the full, fleshy globes vigorously. She bunched them together, emphasizing the dusky cleavage, smirking at Eddie who sauntered from the kitchen and leaned against the door frame, wiping greasy fingers down his jeans. Tony turned up the volume of the record player (I could see it now, on a crate) then joined the girls, peeling off his black jacket as he swayed and capered ludicrously. Brick, already stripped to the waist, exposing a lean, powerfully muscled torso, commenced a furious combination of fluttering muscle control and violent head jerking. His whole stomach shivered and vibrated. Sinews rippled on his long arms. He maintained a suggestive movement of hips and buttocks, repeatedly thrusting his loins forward in an obscene manner that accentuated the protrusion of his genitals, gradually approaching Diane until they danced in a close embrace, the blonde pressing her pelvis against the bulging ridge of the Negro's obviously erect penis while he rubbed the thickening organ into the tight crease between Diane's slender thighs-a crude display of licentious stimulation performed quite brazenly. They seemed oblivious of Eddie's presence, and Tony.
Eddie was holding the front of his trousers and making lewd gestures, smirking at Celia who danced continually closer to him, swaying in wild abandon, head whipping from side to side, long hair swinging and tossing, her enormous breasts flopping up and down, then sideways, the dark nipples standing out firmly like tightly closed rosebuds. She began pushing them against Eddie's chest, slid both hands inside his shirt and eased it from his pants. He fondled the heavy ovals roughly, stroking and massaging, pinching the nipples and embedding his fingertips deeply in soft, white flesh while Celia, eyes closed, squirmed and gasped, a smile of rapturous carnal bliss on her cherubic face.
For a time they shuffled out of sight, but reappeared, moving languidly, and now Celia's jeans were unfastened and hung open, supported only by her voluptuous hips and gradually slipping further and further down until the crease of her bottom was visible and, as she turned slowly, her dense growth of pubic hair. More and more of the plump cheeks was revealed. The crumpled garment dropped around Celia's ankles and was kicked off, As if frozen, incapable of movement, I watched Eddie's broad hands clutch Celia's gorgeous buttocks and lift them, kneading and pulling at the jutting mounds and probing between them.
When he kissed her she opened her mouth wide, sucked his tongue as if she were swallowing an oyster, then quickly jerked the front of his trousers open and took his fat penis out. It was enormous, as long and thick as my forearm, all twitching and pulsing, a hideous thing, dark red and ridged with swollen veins. Celia grasped it fiercely with the same avid compulsion as when she had clutched poor Keith Mannering's organ, and began firmly masturbating, shaking the gross appendage and squeezing it, and pushing the grayish, wrinkled foreskin right back until her hand was hidden among the coarse tufts of ginger hair sprouting from the youth's gaping fly.
I leaned on the wood and shut my eyes tightly, but some subconscious emotion stronger than revulsion compelled me to open them again. Diane, too, had taken her jeans off and was dancing stark naked, performing a sultry Polynesian hula. She laughed when Brick, trying to emulate her sinuous movements, fell over a crate. He pulled her down beside him and covered her writhing mouth with wet kisses. Diane promptly grasped his hand and placed it between her thighs, and I saw the convulsive tension of her bottom as she compressed the small but ripely developed cheeks and squeezed the colored youth's hand, spasmodically contracting her prominent vulva.
Tony, watching without a hint of jealousy or concern although Diane was supposed to be his girl, grinned at me. Brick opened his jeans, and I shuddered, moaning with inner torment and seething agitation, knowing I was absolutely helpless to prevent whatever vile treatment Tony Bennett and his atrocious friends intended subjecting me to. It was like some hideous nightmare. I could not believe it was actually happening. When, with a sudden deft snatch Tony jerked his fly undone and I saw his monstrous penis fully exposed, every detail of that awful night a year ago came flooding back. I tried to scream, but fear dried my mouth and constricted my throat. I urinated again, unable to control my functions, and gazed in mute horror as the big, handsome youth flaunted his immense, rigid organ, gloating over my distress while Diane, masturbating Brick's stiff, loathsome black prick (I can use such crude expressions now as I write, and appreciate their meaning, and smile when I remember how utterly foolish I was, how pathetic in my ignorance), twisted around and smiled derisively. She shook the great, straining roll and made lewd gestures, twisting her face into horrible grimaces, then raised her left leg high and, still looking intently at me, savoring my reactions, guided the broad, pulsing knob into the seemingly small aperture of her distended vagina and voiced crude, gasping encouragement as the huge, spongy mass separated the dark folds and entered, bloating tremendously and grossly displacing the wet cavity.
I saw that fantastic organ intrude. My God, I saw it! Every ghastly, sickening detail, yet I could not tear my vacant gaze away. It was as if I were hypnotized, compelled to watch against my will.
Diane, deliberately prolonging my mental agony, kept her leg elevated and squirmed around so that the whole squalid act was stressed-the thickened member plunging and stroking with slow deliberation into that squelching cavity, the hairy folds rolling and splaying, the clinging lips clutching, pouting, expanding.
Brick lay on his left side with Diane's right leg trapped under his thigh and his black face pressed into the flattened curve of her right breast while he clasped the other heaving oval. Diane supported her uplifted leg with her left hand and Brick, sprawled with legs fully extended, his body somehow twisted, achieved maximum penetration from that awkward position without impeding the exposure. They reveled in my anguish, but I was unable to. frustrate their abominable pleasure by looking away. They were like animals, completely immoral, yet not much older than me, utterly depraved. Diane tried to keep her head up so as to maintain her limited view of the glass panel, but finally abandoned herself entirely to lustful ecstasy and copulated with a frantic, gasping frenzy I could hear even through the thick door. The dusty fanlight, left open to admit it, amplified every uncouth sound.
The record-player still blared sonorously. Eddie, fornicating with Celia on one of the sofas within view of my prison, lay languidly on his back while the voluptuous girl raised and lowered herself vigorously, impaling her glistening vent on the youth's huge, turgid penis. Eddie was actually whistling, jerkily but tunefully, during the bizarre process, making no effort to assume the initiative. Phil was still eating, reading a magazine, apparently indifferent to the lurid happenings.
Several times Tony looked toward the door I stood behind. I dreaded every moment of awful suspense, expecting him to perpetrate his lust on me, but he did not enter. My hands trembled. Tony's vindictive plan to shred my nerves prior to the final, unspeakable ordeal was succeeding better than even he could have foreseen. Striving to curb swirling panic I dug my fingernails into my palms until stabbing pain countered hysteria. I must conquer my weakness. Whatever those despicable morons inflicted on me I would not let them see me grovel.
Diane had adopted a kneeling posture. Yielding to stubborn defiance, I watched the brutally frank performance, fighting loathing and nausea. The Negro, crouching behind Diane, gripping her hips, was fucking her furiously, ramming his great stalk into her with such force that every surging thrust jolted her forward and created wet, whacking sounds as his pelvis made contact with her elevated buttocks.
I saw Brick's head go back, heard him groan as if in pain. He pulled Diane onto his deeply embedded penis and held her, writhing and shuddering. His sinewy body tensed, shivered violently. Then he relaxed, and I knew he had filled Diane's reddened vagina with his odious sperm. I felt sick. The whole area about my anus and genitals tightened spasmodically. Oh, God! If they did that to me! I tried pathetically to convince myself they would not dare, yet, I knew different, I knew.
Brick had withdrawn, was squeezing the tip of his slimy penis. It kept jerking, bulging within the curve of his fingers. He left Diane, entered the kitchen and drank from a milk bottle. Tony turned toward Diane as she turned on her back, smiling, arms extended. He placed his hands behind her knees and lifted both her legs, raising her bare bottom off the floor and pulling her crotch toward his jutting penis, sank to a kneeling posture as his incredibly thick, rigid organ butted effortlessly into Diane's glistening, swollen cunt.
I turned away. (Looking back, it seems incredible that I could ever have been so naive.) Sitting on the edge of the creaking bed I tried to close my mind to the fantasy of my predicament. Apart from that square of yellow lamplight the bleak room was steeped in gloom. Not even a glimmer of moonlight filtered past the boards nailed over the window. Suddenly obsessed with a desperate idea I stood on the bed and attempted to push and then batter some of the boards loose, but they were securely fixed and I only bruised my hands. Eventually I flopped on the lumpy mattress and lay on my stomach, sobbing, overwhelmed with self-pity and frustration.
After what seemed an eternity the bolt was withdrawn and the door creaked open. Diane stood in the opening. She was quite naked, and even in my desperate state of mind I was conscious of the slender loveliness of her pale form, the exquisite, sylph-like symmetry of her limbs and the proudly jutting cones of her young breasts. She held a tray on which was a plate heaped with cold chicken scraps, several slices of buttered bread, a glass of milk, and two large, purple pills.
"Thought you might be hungry," she said. "No need to sit there sulking. Why don't you join the party? Tony will let you out if you promise to behave."
A cigarette drooped from her sensual mouth. Her luridly colored lipstick was smeared, her eyes unnaturally bright. The cigarette gave off a peculiar, pungent odor. Beyond Diane I could see the others, all unclothed, some of them drinking from the bottles, the rest eating or smoking. Diane indicated the flat pills.
"Swallow these and you'll forget your inhibitions," she said. "They'll buck you up, kid. You'll feel frisky as a kitten. Here, take this. You've got to eat. We don't want you-"
I lunged, smacked the tray from her grasp and aimed a wild swing at her face, missed as she stepped adroitly back. Milk splashed her breasts and stomach and trickled down among the silky hair filling the junction of thighs and abdomen. Broken glass fell dangerously close to her bare foot. Startled, Diane uttered a loud gasp, then retaliated with a swift slap and a violent push. Hurled backward, I sprawled on the bed, reared up seething with anger and indignation.
"I don't want your rotten food!" I shouted. "I just want to get out of here, you filthy little whore! Let me out! PLEASE! PLEASE LET ME OUT!"
Eddie appeared behind Diane.
"Maybe she'd rather have some of this," he taunted, grasping his semislack penis and grimacing. Diane thrust him away. Her eyes blazed with malice. Then she laughed harshly.
"The bitch has a temper, Tony," she called. "Do we feed her forcibly, or what?"
"Let her go hungry," my abductor answered.
"Shut that fucking door and leave her to think things over. We'll start shooting film tomorrow morning. I've got a great idea for the specialty item. Look at that."
He threw a folded newspaper to Eddie who caught it deftly and opened it.
"Front page," Tony said. "Top corner. That bit about the gorilla. It gave me a notion for the feature title-Bride of the Beast. How's that sound? Cohen will really flip over this one, and darling Pamela will play the leading role. We'll work out the details later. Tomorrow we'll shoot some of the routine background scenes and shag around until we've got a few feet of the sort of thing Cohen wants on color film. We'll save our star material until last."
Eddie chuckled. He read, showed the paper to Diane. I made a sudden, darting rush, but Diane was too quick for me. She banged the door shut and shot the bolt, regarded me scornfully through the glass panel.
Phil and the Negro appeared in the lounge entry, nude but completely uninhibited. The stocky, blond youth's genital endowment, like that of his friends, was ponderously overdeveloped. His tremendous, dangling penis was, to me, a ludicrous, flaccid obscenity. The Negro farted. Phil moved away from him. Brick gestured toward the door of my prison.
"Man," I heard him say. "Why don't we start filming right now, tonight, and break her in?"
"Because she's special," Tony answered vehemently. "I want this thing done right. She cost me a good job and a sweet setup with old man Quincannon's wife, and before she finds out exactly what life is all about I intend to put her through hell. I almost had some prick into the little fool once. Don't be impatient, Brick. She'll get the full treatment but I want it all on film. So tomorrow we'll let her watch for a while. Maybe it will put some fire in her belly. Once we've got something on film for Cohen I don't give a damn what happens to her. We'll collect from her old man and then dump her, meanwhile let her sweat it out."
"I've never screwed a virgin," Phil remarked thoughtfully. Tony laughed.
"You'll be lucky," he retorted scornfully. "She won't be a goddamn virgin by the time she gets to you. I've got first claim, you bastard."
"You think that Keith kid will deliver the message?" Eddie asked. Tony shrugged.
"If he doesn't we'll put through a call tomorrow night. Quincannon might be back then. If not I'll talk to Camelia-Pamela's stepmother. She's a real hot number. I never quite got around to fucking her but I was working up to it when sweet Pamela got me fired."
"Maybe we should have snatched her instead of that shrinking violet."
"Don't kid yourself. It's the awkward, reluctant ones who make the best shag."
They moved away from the door, taking the lamp. I could not hear whatever else was said, but I knew from their jeering laughter and the glances cast in my direction that I was the major subject of discussion.
Left in total darkness, I collapsed on the bed. I think if they had left me the means of doing myself an injury I would have found nerve enough to end my existence.
CHAPTER FIVE
It must have been close to dawn when I was faced with a crucially embarrassing situation for which there seemed no remedy without inviting further humiliation. There were no toilet facilities whatever in the dismal bedroom prison. Twice I had yielded to dire necessity and urinated in a corner, resolutely deleting notions of propriety and convention. It was their pigsty. Why should I, a prisoner, observe rules of decent behavior? Besides, what else could I do?
But now the urgent need to evacuate my bowels was becoming intolerable. I could not do that on the floor and remain closely confined with the foulness. Finally, in desperation, I called Celia, then Diane, and kept shouting until eventually Diane groped sleepily through the kitchen carrying a lighted kerosene lamp. She was wearing a short, transparent nightie.
"What the hell do you want?" she demanded. I told her. She sighed wearily, turned and went away, but returned presently with a large iron bucket.
"Shit in that," she instructed crudely. "Empty it in the morning. I'm not letting you out, so don't start all that nonsense again or we'll give you something to make you sleep."
She banged the door. I stood there holding the bucket, appalled by Diane's callousness. How could such a lovely-looking girl be so cruel? She was a horrible little monster.
I used the bucket, and for the first time was thankful for the darkness. I could hear vague sounds, boisterous voices, music droning. Didn't that depraved gang ever sleep?
It is impossible to describe my feelings throughout that interminably long, dreary night, waiting for daybreak, enduring agonies of apprehension and shame, breathing my own body smells, conscious of that reeking bucket. I longed for daylight yet dreaded the ordeals it would bring.
My eyes were red-rimmed with crying. I had gnawed my bottom lip raw. Rats scampered along the roof beams and lurked in crannies in the walls. Or perhaps it was just my vivid imagination that produced tiny pinpoints of red-gleaming eyes. I was limp, my clothing saturated with sweat, willing to agree to anything, long before the door was unbolted. Diane paused on the threshold, wrinkling her nose. Behind her, Celia hung back. Both girls wore tight jeans and leather jackets. Diane balked at the stench permeating my stuffy prison.
"God!" she remarked. "That's no bed of roses. Come on out, and bring that mess with you."
A deep flush crimsoned my neck and face as I picked up the bucket and followed her through the kitchen. Aromas of coffee and frying bacon helped combat the odor from the bucket. Diane opened the side door, paused.
"Don't get any ideas," she warned. "If you try anything foolish we'll tie your hands and keep you fastened. Go dump that muck in the stream and wash out the bucket. You'll need it again, darling."
I looked round, seeking some avenue of escape. Eddie and the colored youth were watching me closely. Phil and Tony lounged near the shallow stream. They all held their noses when I passed with the bucket, exaggering the gesture and heightening my horrible degradation. I felt utterly debased but refused to allow their offensive mockery to fluster me. I must remain rational. There had to be a way of eluding them.
Rinsing the bucket, I took a desperate chance and suddenly flung the contents of the bucket at the Negro, drenching him. I lost my grip on the bucket handle and the clattering pail struck Tony on the knee. I ran, dodged past Eddie and almost evaded Phil, but he thrust out his foot and tripped me.
Sprawled on my stomach, winded, I lay panting, the torn party dress billowed up around my waist. Phil, pressing his foot against the middle of my back, whistled appreciatively. I struggled frantically, but he held me down. The others surrounded me. Tony was limping. They commented on my exposed panties and bulging bottom, voicing lewd admiration, and I felt hands on the backs of my thighs, on my buttocks, stroking and squeezing, feeling, groping, then fingers intruding inside the leg of my briefs, probing between my legs and into the crease of my bottom, defying the fierce contraction of my limbs.
"She's tight as a drum," Eddie declared. "A sweet fuck. It's time somebody got some cock into this baby."
"Up her ass man," Brick observed bluntly.
"Work a hot cock right up her asshole. She'd buck like a mare with-"
"Why don't you fuck her, lover?" Diane demanded, breaking in and pushing Tony. "Screw the little mare now. Why wait? Belt it into her. I want to see her get it, Tony."
"You will, but later. We've got a full day ahead. Let's keep to the schedule."
"All right," Celia said. "But strip the fat cow. She won't be so keen to run away without her clothes."
She seized the hem of my dress and pulled it right up over my head, tugged until my limbs were drawn through the armholes. Diane, chuckling, squatted and helped Celia remove the frock, then wrenched at the straps of my brassiere until they snapped. I tried desperately to cover my breasts, but Phil removed his foot from my back and Brick dragged me to my feet. The whole gang with the exception of Tony began pushing me from one to another, making me confused and dizzy as I stumbled helplessly about and was turned and twisted, clutched and lewdly handled. My arms were twisted up behind my back. Diane tugged viciously at my hair, putting a strain on my neck and causing my large globular breasts to tremble and shake about.
I cried out when Eddie pinched one of the dark nipples. Smirking lecherously, he began slapping my breasts and flopping them against the palms of his hands while Brick, who had positioned himself behind me, slowly but relentlessly eased my panties down, and swore to express lewd appreciation as my quivering buttocks were fully uncovered.
"Man!" he exclaimed. "She's got a bigger ass than Celia. I could eat her shit."
He clasped the prominent cheeks roughly, squashing them together then pulling them apart and exploring my anal recess. Phil and Eddie held me firmly. Diane ripped away my garter belt and rolled my stockings down, removed them, and my shoes. Still squatting, she inserted her hand between my legs, crushed glossy pubic hair between her fingers, then closed her hand over my vagina and compressed my organs painfully. I felt her index finger poking into the slit.
I sobbed and pleaded, alternately struggling then going limp as recurring waves of nausea and faintness undermined my resistance. They would have raped me but for Tony's stubborn insistence. He watched the others undress me but took no part in what followed, and when their sexual excitement became excessive, terminated the assault impatiently.
"That's enough, you randy cocksuckers," he told them. "Take her inside. Phil, get the gear ready. We'll set up in the big lounge."
They returned me to that awful bedroom but left the door open, and presently Tony entered with Diane. He had a long length of thin chain and a padded leather collar fitted with two steel rings.
I shrank away. Tony grabbed me and, ignoring my tearful protests, held me while Diane fastened the collar around my neck and snapped a padlock through the two rings so that it was impossible for me to remove the encircling leather band without cutting it. Tony attached one end of the chain to a ringbolt set in the bedroom wall, using an immensely strong spring clip. The other end was linked to a welded swivel on the collar. Like an animal, naked and exposed, horribly afraid, I was led into the lounge and seated on one of the sofas, a creaking, drop-end davenport.
Phil and Eddie were busy preparing filming equipment. Celia helped Brick arrange drapes, backcloths, and painted scenery.
Diane changed into a figure-hugging dress and the briefest of sheer nylon underwear, also black, then sat and smoked another of those peculiar-smelling cigarettes through a long, ivory holder. The lounge was cleverly arranged to represent a modern apartment bedroom. A large bed had been procured and assembled. Most of the other "furniture" was plywood and pasteboard reproduction items. The davenport, covered with a gaudy patterned drape, was arranged into the middle of the "set". I was made to sit on a sagging lounge chair with horsehair stuffing bursting from the seat and back.
Phil announced everything was ready and Tony briefly explained the routine again, checking details dispassionately and professionally as if discussing a travelogue instead of pornography. Without exception the teen-age gang frequently swallowed pep pills and stimulants which I suspected were narcotics in a mild form. They shared a state of acute excitement, and their movements were becoming increasingly erratic. I watched their mood change from jaunty indifference to irrepressible lasviciousness, the lustful symptoms mounting rapidly as the drugs flayed and distorted clouded senses and produced vivid hallucinations and erotic sensations.
Phil made final camera adjustments. Tony instructed Diane to take up her position. Apparently she was to commence the obscene program.
"Better watch this," Tony taunted as I huddled on the musty chair, pale and haggard. "It'll be your turn soon so you'd best get used to the idea. Don't look so disgusted. Sex rules the world, darling. Churning out cunt films is a whole lot better than being fucked ragged by a bunch of stinking wogs in a Moroccan brothel, which is what will happen to you unless your father comes across with that money. All right, Phil. Roll 'em."
The theme was lurid portrayals of vile, erotically sensational sex acts, depicted without any real story and very little plot; sheer, unadulterated pornography, a series of scenes each more filthy (to my sensitive, puritan mind) than the preceding one.
I watched as if in a trance as Diane, arriving at the supposed "apartment", was admitted through a fake door by Tony who, wearing an unfastened robe, emerged from a pseudo-shower contrived with drapes and clear plastic. There were no preliminaries. Diane sat on the bed and, as Tony leaned over to kiss her, opened the robe and revealed his enormously erect penis. Laughing, she grasped the grossly distended organ and played with it, emphasizing every deliberate movement and facial expression, while Tony briefly handled her breasts and, raising the hem of the black dress, felt between her legs.
He pulled her up, allowing the robe to slide to the floor, and helped Diane undress. Naked, she seized his rampant prick again. The camera zoomed in to take close-up shots from various angles of her broadly exposed bottom and vagina, and of Tony's hand manipulating the moist quim and finally Diane's fingers clutching and whanking that great, rearing stalk.
Then, perched on the extreme edge of the bed with legs wide apart, Diane avidly kissed Tony's cock all over, touched her tongue repeatedly to the straining knob and soon took it in her eager mouth and sucked voraciously, writhing her lips rapidly up and down the throbbing roll and gradually taking more and more of it into her loose mouth, occasionally rejecting the jerking prick and rolling her pink tongue around the pulsing glans, stabbing the curling, squirming tip into the round aperture and then licking and trailing her mouth along the entire bloated organ right down to the ridged, hairy balls.
She poked the stiff penis in her eyes, rubbed it against her nostrils, smelled it and sucked again in a frenzy of feverish, moaning lust, digging her fingers into the crack of Tony's ass and pulling his loins toward her flushed face.
She lay back with thighs widespread, rapidly changing her position, and the camera zeroed in on her vagina while she held the fleshy folds back and revealed the red gaping maw. Tony, squatting with tight scrotum protruding below his hairy buttocks and turgid penis jutting, his bottom elevated, licked the ruttish fissure and poked his tongue into Diane's anus, then she drew her knees up, grasped his cock and conveyed it to her palpitating cunt. Tony thrust into her and fucked furiously for a while, then slowed his strokes, pausing frequently while the camera secured action shots of sundry stages of penetration. Abruptly they shifted postures again, Tony lying on the bed with legs extended and widely separated and Diane crouched facing him with her bottom absurdly thrust out. Tony pulled the cheeks apart to expose her crinkly anus and naked, hairy twat, then she lowered herself onto his prick and shagged up and down rapidly while Tony strove to keep her buttocks stretched away from the dark division so that the camera's image would not be impeded and Diane's gaping split and the monstrous tool thrashing into it were constantly in plain view. (It is so easy for me now to write as I feel, to describe what I saw in language that no longer disgusts me, but at the time I suffered purgatory.)
And now Brick entered, undressed quickly and climbed on the bed. Kneeling, squatting on his heels and holding his ebony-black cudgel directly over Tony's face. Diane, still working herself energetically up and down on Tony's rigid organ, leaned forward, supporting her weight on stiffened arms, and voraciously sucked the young Negro's fat prick.
Presently, Tony took over the camera operation. Eddie and Phil got Celia on the bed and stripped her, meanwhile Diane had moved to the davenport and was kneeling on it with her head down and her bottom elevated. Brick, standing with knees bent, fucked her from behind while Diane held her buttocks apart, widening the spread of the cheeks and revealing every shocking detail of the straining cock pistoning furiously. Eddie and Phil removed their clothing. Eddie masturbated. Celia played with her vagina, rubbing and fondling it and holding the dark slit open while Phil mounted her, then she clamped her legs round his waist and the camera zoomed in from a low angle to film the stocky youth's plunging organ plowing into the squashy, softly yielding gash, then angled higher when Celia, moaning and gasping, suddenly relaxed her hold and lay back, but reared up when Phil heaved himself forward and knelt astride her sumptuous bosom. His buttocks, splaying against her chest, flattened the superlative mounds.
Testicles dangling in the luscious valley, Phil grasped Celia's head and raised it, easing the strain on her bent neck, and she opened her large mouth to receive his thick, throbbing penis. He was coming, grunting and panting, thrusting his turgid organ berserkly into the warm recess and butting the swollen knob right to the back of Celia's throat.
His chunky figure tensed, reared up, head thrown back, buttocks nipped firmly together, and Tony quickly focused the camera to capture lurid close-ups as the quivering fury burst from Phil's fiercely distended shaft and spattered copiously, spewing thickly into the girl's receptive mouth, filling it and escaping past her writhing lips and dribbling down her chin to puddle in the hollow of her damp throat.
Almost immediately Eddie replaced Phil. He turned Celia over and raised her to a kneeling position then, squatting between her widespread legs. He tongued her bottom, roughly separating the heavy cheeks and licking along the deep crease and round the puckered anus. He sniffed the brown hole repeatedly, thrust his nose into it, inhaling strongly, licked lower, curling his avid tongue into the broad split of Celia's wet, glistening cunt, and finally rammed his bloated prick in the hairy fissure and shagged with slogging, panting strokes that quickened as he rapidly approached his climax. As he partly withdrew for an even more vigorous lunge he spunked, spurting milky sperm all around the edges of the tremulous slit in addition to filling it, then eased his twitching penis right back into the clutching vent and pumped the cloying residue against the reddened, erectile clitoris partly exposed by his gouging thumbs.
There was no tender feeling, only stark, brutal lust and primitive instinct.
A lunch break followed. I was offered food but refused it. The commotion quieted when Tony demanded silence to allow him to hear a radio announcement concerning the escape of an extremely savage adult gorilla from Chingwell Zoo. The listeners were warned, if they saw the beast, not to antagonize it but to contact the police.
"Chingwell? That's not far from here," Eddie observed.
"Must be that outsize ape we read about in the newspaper, just brought over from the Congo. It's worth several grand."
"You thinking of capturing it?" Phil asked. "Hey! Wouldn't it be a giggle if it wound up here? You fancy being screwed by a gorilla, Celia? I hear they can work up a stalk big as a stallion."
"That's balls, man," Brick declared scornfully. "An ape's got a cock like a dog, only bigger."
A sudden gleam showed in Tony's dark eyes as an idea took shape in his scheming mind.
"Could be that overgrown monkey might just show up here," he said mysteriously, and laughed.
"What's bugging you, man?" Brick demanded. Tony shrugged.
"Just an idea," he answered. "That gorilla opens up a whole range of possibilities."
He chuckled, stood up.
"I'll explain later," he said. "Let's get finished. I want to concentrate on the main events but we need the routine stuff in the can first."
I was ignored, but the chain defeated any possibility of escape. I tried to resign myself to the inevitable as another session of disgusting activity commenced.
Diane and Celia performed acts of Lesbianism filmed by Tony in intimate, sensational detail. The whole afternoon was fully occupied with equally revolting scenes involving the entire group and by numerous retakes. Various scenery changes produced startlingly weird backgrounds-a castle dungeon with the two girls supposedly undergoing torture and rape by monks, then portraying slave girls in a harem being "initiated" by the "Sultan"
(Eddie) and his helpers. A monster episode followed with Phil playing a Frankenstein creature discovering the delights of sex with Celia-in a graveyard.
There was more, equally sordid. The windows had been unboarded and sunlight streamed through the dusty panes in the east wall. Outside, a portable gasoline-operated generator had been connected to provide a source of electrical power, replacing the powerful storage batteries previously used to furnish power for the lamps.
"Too bad Tubby didn't let us have that generating plant sooner," I heard Tony remark to Phil. "At least we can boost the current when necessary, and dispense with those stinking oil lamps. Did you remember to fix those meters? We don't want some nosy official from the power company snooping around."
By evening filming was completed. Equipment was checked and set up for the next day's shooting. There was to be a "trial run" involving me. Later, I would "star" in a special feature entitled Bride of the Beast. I was returned to the bedroom and chained to the wall. The door was left unbolted. I could not escape. The chain links were too strong to break and I had no means of removing that dreadful collar.
That evening was devoted to another swinging party. Sitting in darkness, my mind in a seething turmoil, crowded with the awful events I had been obliged to watch, I tried to think rationally. The prospect of spending another night in that miserable prison shattered the last remaining shreds of my resolve and I cried myself into a state of nervous prostration. Tears relieved some of the tension. Celia had left a plate of food near the bed, and some milk in a bottle. I was ravenously hungry but was determined not to eat.
Later, I heard the bolt grate into the socket and realized I was denied even the restricted freedom permitted by the excessive length of the chain.
But I had no wish to join those capering morons in their bestial orgy. Bleak and desolate though it was the bedroom offered security. It was a place to hide away from reality, from lust and depravity. Beyond that door there was no freedom, only corruption. .The bucket, clanking as I unintentionally kicked it, was a hideous reminder of my appalling situation.
I lay down, tried to compose myself. Hunger gnawed relentlessly at my determination, undermined it until my will power crumbled and I finally yielded and nibbled at a slice of cold meat. I ate that, then a piece of bread. My weakened resolution collapsed completely and I ate every delicious morsel and drank the milk, hating myself and condemning my weakness but enjoying every scrap. Food never tasted so good. Afterward, I felt guilty and ashamed, then got angry with myself and sprawled on the bed feeling exhausted but no longer ravenous. Why should I starve, I thought resentfully. Why add to that odious gang's enjoyment? Tony was obviously determined to humiliate me in every possible way in his desire to avenge a wholly imaginary wrong. If only I could endure, defy him, deny him and the others further satisfaction. If I could just preserve some measure of dignity in spite of everything.
But what was the use? They would find ways to overcome stubbornness, and the food I had eaten was a glaring example of my weakness.
Tomorrow there would be more degradation, more horror. How could I resist?
CHAPTER SIX
Camelia Quin cannon smiled. She poured whiskey from a decanter.
"Say when," she said. Clive Merton, seated on the wide arm of a lounge chair, watched her.
"That's fine," he said. "Come here."
Camelia approached, sipping her own drink. As she leaned across the husky young chauffeur's body to place his whiskey glass on the bedside table the white nylon dress she was wearing was drawn tightly across her sumptuously rounded bottom, accentuating the deliciously sexy cleft. Clive brought his face close to the broad, fleshy cheeks and sniffed the musky odor of Camelia's intimate recess through the thin material and the flimsy panties beneath. Grasping the fronts of her gorgeous thighs, he pressed his nose into the clearly defined crevice. Camelia laughed, wriggled her hips, forcing the soft ovals against his features.
"You randy bastard!" she alleged. "You like my bottom, don't you? You might at least give me time to get through the door before-"
Turning quickly, she sucked in her breath sharply when she saw his penis exposed, hugely erect, a throbbing, virile boom.
"Clive!" she exclaimed huskily. "Oh, CLIVE! Darling! You're so impulsive. Just give me a minute."
She evaded his swift grab and darted into the bathroom, reappeared smelling of scented soap and wearing only brief, transparent panties and a ridiculously inadequate uplift bra. Clive, naked except for socks and undershirt, moved toward her, a tall, handsome young Adonis splendid in his proud male vigor. He waited until Camelia unfastened the bra and released her large, luscious breasts. She shook the ripe, creamy globes, hefted them, pushed the rich red nipples and dusky aureoles against Clive's chest as he reached for her.
He kissed her hungrily, cupped her breasts and crushed the firm, trembling mounds, rubbing the hardening nipples and pinching them between forefingers and thumbs.
Camelia sighed happily. She touched the thick, throbbing organ prddding her lower abdomen, gripped it fiercely, moaning softly when it reared powerfully, the glans bulging. Clive kissed her again and her lips parted to admit his questing tongue. Her white, even teeth nipped the curling extremity and her buttocks tightened convulsively as the youthful chauffeur clutched the mature ovals and squashed them together, pulling the panties tight into her crotch and the crack of her bottom.
The garment irked Clive and he stretched the elastic waistband, thrust the briefs over Camelia's wide, voluptuous hips and down past her dimpled knees, then grabbed a handful of pubic hair and fleshy, yielding cunt.
Camelia gasped, waggled her sultry hips so that the panties slipped right down, then stepped out of them and eagerly responded when Clive impatiently drew her close again. His mouth caressed her elegant throat and smooth shoulders, roved over her heaving breasts, and Camelia pulled his face into the gorgeous, palpitating mounds, moaned with pleasure when he ran groping fingers down her tingling spine and clasped her taut buttocks again, rubbing along the deep, moist valley until his probing digit encountered the tremulous pit of her anus.
He lifted her then, cupping both hands under the full cheeks, carried her to the luxurious bed and dumped her roughly on it, fell with her, bouncing on the resilient mattress. Camelia promptly opened her imposing thighs and, seizing her lover's rampant penis pulled it against her gaping twat and raised her bottom, vigorously thrusting upward to meet Clive's initial, unrestrained lunge, then thrashing and jerking in wild, panting frenzy as his hips forced her straining limbs further apart and his descending weight rammed his cleaving roll deep.
The cheeks of her bottom contracted spasmodically, narrowing the exquisite cleft to a tight, shadowy crack. Her avid, clutching quim engulfed the entire savage length of that near-bursting prick right to its broad, straining roots, and Camelia squirmed, moaning in the torrid grip of sweeping paroxysms of sheer ecstasy, grimacing, her lips parted, eyes closed, breasts jogging deliciously as she writhed and bucked and shuddered, working hips and pelvis furiously.
The rapidly stroking penis slipped out, and she uttered a hoarse cry, groped with desperate urgency and swiftly conveyed the slimy, pulsing organ back into the reddened, sucking maw and, clutching Clive's hairy buttocks, dug her fingers into the sweating crease and pulled his loins frantically against her heaving mound, coaxing the thrashing prick into the hot, slippery sheath.
"FUCK ME!" she sobbed. "Harder, darling! I'm coming! Oooh! Clive! Darling! I'm COMING! Fuck me, lover! Oh, God! I can't get enough of it, that gorgeous, grinding prick! CLIVE! I'M COMING! Aaah!"
Shattering excitement convulsed her hot, flushed face as the deliriously thrilling sensations clawing at her tormented vagina were intensified and finally culminated in an orgasmic flood that spread swiftly to every part of her inflamed organs and merged with the spurting fury of her lover's gushing semen as he delivered a final grunting, ferocious thrust, then slid both hands under Camelia's bottom and clung, penis enormously embedded, while the vital sap drained from his loins and the tension gradually left his arched back and muscle-ridged limbs.
Camelia sank back, panting. As her eyes fluttered open the telephone rang. She gave a nervous, guilty start, frowned. "Who the hell is that?" she demanded irritably.
"Let it ring," Clive said, rolling off her. Their merging flesh parted with a wet, smacking sound.
"It might be important," Camelia argued. "I'd better answer it."
She leaned across Clive, picked up the receiver, slapped Clive's hand away laughingly when he delved into the hairy junction of elevated, pink-white buttocks and robust thighs.
"Haven't you had enough?" she rebuked, smiling. "Stop it, you idiot! Hello! Yes, this is Camelia Quincannon. No. My husband hasn't returned yet. I don't expect him for another week. Who's calling? Who? Keith? Oh, Keith Mannering. I wondered where you and Pamela had gone. What have you done with that virtuous stepdaughter of mine, Keith? She should have been homes hours ago? Eh? What's that? KIDNAPED! My God! Keith Mannering, if this is some stupid joke-"
"No joke," Keith's voice came over the wire, hoarse with strain. "I tried to stop them but I-don't know where they've taken her, Mrs. Quincannon. No, I don't think so. They want money, Mrs. Quincannon. They told me to deliver the message. I can't say any more. They threatened to-NO! You mustn't go to the police! If you do something awful will happen to Pamela. You'll receive instructions-about the money. They mean it, Mrs. Quincannon. I'm sorry. I have to go now."
"Wait! Keith! KEITH! Don't ring off, damn you!"
But the youth had already hung up. Camelia put the receiver down. She looked bewildered, more angered than concerned.
"What was all that about?" Merton asked. He stood up, stretched.
"Shut up, and get out!" Camelia snapped. Clive stared, not understanding. Camelia gathered up his clothes and thrust the bundle at him.
"The party's over," she said. "You'd better go."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I need to think, to be alone. I just received the most astounding message. Pamela's been-kidnaped!"
"Balls! It must be somebody's idea of a joke."
"I don't think so. That was Keith Mannering on the phone. He was with Pamela earlier. They were sitting under some trees near his parked car, he said, when some gang of teen-age hooligans assaulted him and took Pamela with them. He sounded scared stiff."
"You'd better call the police."
"Not yet. Something like this might do that girl good, waken up her ideas a bit. In any case Charles won't be back for another week and they want a lot of money. I suppose I could raise it, but-"
"You callous bitch! You can't leave the kid high and dry with a bunch of morons."
"I could. She needs educating. But I suppose I must consider Charles. You don't suppose Pamela is in any real danger?"
"Don't tell me you're actually concerned about her."
"She's my responsibility while her father's away. I detest the prudish little minx, and she hates me. You know that. It may be just a foolish prank-Keith Mannering has a very retarded mentality, he's gullible enough to believe anything. But if Pamela has been abducted I can't just ignore the fact, much as I'd like to. Charles idolizes her. If anything happens to her, any actual harm, I mean, he'd never forgive me."
"So what? You despise the old bastard."
"I don't despise his money, you fool! If he ever cut me out of his will I'd lose this whole estate and maybe half a million in cash. Recently I've had one row after another with Charles. He's suspicious about you and a lot of things. I can't afford to antagonize him over Pamela, too. Whoever those kids are I hope they screw the ass off that little madame. But I'll pay whatever they ask rather than risk harm coming to her, for Charles' sake. I'm sorry I snapped at you, Clive. It was a bloody shock, believe me. But you'd best get dressed and then leave. I'm no longer in the mood."
Shrugging, the chauffeur moved toward the connecting door and entered the lounge. Presently, Camelia heard the outer door close.
Standing near the telephone, still naked, she suddenly began to laugh, but there was a note of hysteria mingled with the cynical humor.
It was all too damned ridiculous.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I had repeated the odious performance with the bucket. When Celia offered me breakfast, much to her surprise I accepted.
"She finished every crumb of what you left for her last night," Diane reported, smirking. "I think our little Pamela is actually beginning to settle down. Do you like being here, darling? With us?"
"You filthy, immoral creature!" I flared. "You'll suffer for this. Oh, if I could just get my hands on you."
"She has spirit, too," the blonde added sneeringly. "You'll need it, Pamela dear, so eat plenty. I hope you can keep it down."
"You'll never get away with this," I retorted angrily. "You must be mad, all of you. You'll spend the next twenty years in jail. My father will-"
"Your old man will do exactly as he's told," Tony said confidently. "If he ever expects to see you again. Take her into the lounge, Diane. You and Celia get ready. It's time she had some of the nonsense shagged out of her. I want to see her crawl. We'll start with the Lesbian routine. Cohen's paying plenty so make it good. Set the camera on automatic, Phil. We'll all get in on this."
Diane, Eddie, and Brick dragged me through the kitchen to where the movie camera had been set up. Despite my terror I noticed the house lights were functioning, and I remember marveling at the ingenuity involved in bypassing the meter system and supplying electricity from the generator without tampering with the main power cables that must lie close to the farmhouse. Tony was not stupid. He had planned every detail with fiendish cunning.
Then all other thoughts were wiped from my mind in the horror and confusion of what happened next. The enormous bed, part of the "bedroom" set, still occupied the approximate center of the lounge. I was dumped on it. The chain attached to the collar encircling my neck was replaced by a much shorter length, which was clipped to one of the brass uprights. My arms were fully extended and tied to the bed posts. My legs were left free.
Diane and Celia retreated behind a screen but soon reappeared, both naked. The camera commenced rolling. Tony voiced curt instructions. He and the others quickly undressed, then stood and watched the girls, smirking in lewd anticipation and handling their genitals. Amid raucous comments Celia clambered on the bed. She sat on my stomach and began rubbing and caressing my breasts, kissing and sucking the nipples and chuckling when the firm buds became darker and elongated. Diane, meanwhile, positioned herself near my feet. When she jerked my legs apart I tried to resist but Eddie immediately grasped one ankle, Phil the other, and held my limbs widespread.
Kneeling, smiling cynically, Diane produced a small pair of scissors. She started snipping the reddish-gold hair from around my vagina. All four youths rapidly achieved enormous erections. They compared pricks, masturbated slowly, merely maintaining maximum distention. The automatically operated camera followed every lascivious movement.
I thrashed about violently, raving and pleading. Celia was hurting my breasts, but presently desisted and abruptly turned completely around so that she faced my feet and her bottom was thrust close to my face. The chain restricted my movements, preventing me from twisting my head away. When Celia leaned right forward I could see the whole pulsing spread of her wet vagina and large, wrinkled anus.
Reaching back, she separated the beautiful, downy cheeks, fleshy ovals resembling lusciously ripened peach halves, squatted lower and pushed the dark, stretched division against my features, forcing my nose into the musky fissure. I could not avoid the loathsome, splaying contact or the slimy kiss of her vagina against my tightly compressed lips. Her anus moved, crinkling and puckering against my nostrils, sickening me with its cloying, animal smell, and she undulated her voluptuous body, rubbing her secret parts all over my face while resting her full weight on my chest and shoulders, her mouth still teasing my nipples. Meanwhile Diane finished denuding my vagina and, discarding the scissors, lowered herself until she could apply the tip of her pink tongue to the shorn slit.
My whole system revolted. The lips of my vagina shrank inward away from that relentlessly probing, fluttering tongue. My organs trembled violently.
Sensations totally alien to my experience quivered and surged within the warm, moist split, feelings I neither understood nor, at the time, appreciated even though I remained aware of their strangely disturbing effect. They ceased when Diane raised her head. She held a thick, rubber instrument shaped like a huge phallus, and grinned sardonically as she held the pouting folds of my vagina apart and attempted to insert the pseudo penis.
I screamed, but she kept pushing the hard object into my tender, virgin cunt, causing horrible stabbing pains. I screamed again, then the tight restriction suddenly yielded and was gone and sticky wetness was seeping around the blunt instrument. When Diane withdrew it I saw blood, and uttered a wild shriek.
Celia climbed off. Diane remained. Tony, sitting on the extreme edge of a chair, issued further orders. The chain was unclipped. I was lifted onto my feet and marched backward in a ludicrous stooping posture to where Tony waited with a sneering expression on his handsome face and his enormous stiff penis jutting formidably. His hairy scrotum was ridged and wrinkled, the glans of his savagely throbbing prick purple with pulsating expansion.
Defining his obscene purpose, I screamed again and struggled frantically to no avail. I was led right up to the chair and bent over in an even more grotesquely absurd crouch that thrust out my bottom abnormally. Tony seized my hips and intruded his knees between my legs to keep them apart. I could hear his heavy breathing as he studied my bare buttocks. Suddenly he surged forward and plunged his face into the cleft dividing the trembling cheeks, licking and sniffing and kissing in a delirium of frenzied delight, forcing my flesh away from the crevice with his thumbs. I writhed as his tongue screwed into my cringing anus. Sobbing hysterically, I wrenched desperately but only exhausted myself.
Tony bunched my buttocks into great fleshy folds and ridges. The sight and feel of my bottom seemed to goad him to the brink of mental instability. He wallowed, groaning and slobbering, but finally responded to Diane's scathing criticism and lewd appeals and aimed his turgid penis at the naked quim poised helplessly above the bulging knob. Remorselessly, Eddie and Phil lowered me until that tremendous roll brutally impaled the bleeding aperture, and I shrieked as they forced me down, onto it, and I felt its savage, bursting intrusion.
Flaming torment ripped through the ruptured passage. The ravaging rod bored so deep it seemed it must grind right into my shuddering bowels. Tony heaved, ramming upward, straining his loins against my bottom and completely engulfing his rampaging penis.
Tears filled my eyes. I could no longer scream. My throat seemed paralyzed. The callous youths holding me thrust me down until I felt coarse hair crush against the splayed cheeks of my bottom and the burning, agonizing friction tore at me with such delightful intensity I thought I should go mad. Then Tony partly withdrew his cock and his helpers manhandled me in an obscene up and down momentum so that I was actually forced to assist in my own violation. Bubbles of trapped air and moisture continually escaped my glutinous vagina and burst round the cruel instrument of flesh and blood and gristle remorselessly accomplishing my utter, abject defloration.
Diane, enjoying my degrading ordeal immensely, voiced filthy encouragement, urging Tony to greater efforts and prompting his laboring helpers. Her face was flushed, her eyes glittering. Brick's broad, glistening features reflected primeval bestiality as he stroked and frigged his monstrously bloated penis.
And now Tony commenced slow, rhythmic movements, surging up to meet each descent of my contorted body and burying his great stalk every time. With each sucking withdrawal the steaming roll was uncovered until only the hard core lingered at the extreme opening of my vagina, pulsed briefly between the flesh folds before being grossly, ponderously embedded. The friction was easing, the lubricated channel expanding, and mingling with the pain and shame and nausea was a recurring glimmer of acutely pleasurable sensation I could not define but became increasingly conscious of as that callously demanding organ battered inexorably into my horribly distended split.
As quickly, the spasm was gone, obliterated in a wave of revulsion as the Negro, Brick, approached and, confronting me, standing with knees bent, whacked his incredibly long, black penis repeatedly against my breasts and stomach and finally brought its foulness close to my face. Even then I remained ignorant of his intention until he thrust the twitching branch at my mouth. I found the strength to resist and jerked my head back frantically, but Brick gripped my hair and forced my lips to touch his vile organ. I clamped my mouth tightly shut. It was merely prolonging the agony. Chuckling, the Negro held my nose until, deprived of air, I was compelled to open my mouth. Instantly, his fat prick rammed into the cavity, squeezed the hard, swollen knob past my writhing lips and between my teeth, and savagely butted several inches of turgid, sooty-black cock to the back of my throat.
He held it there, his muscular buttocks rigidly convulsed, and almost immediately released a flood of hot, ropey sperm. Choking, retching violently, I gagged, spat out the loathsome slime the instant the drooping penis was withdrawn, shamefully aware of jeering laughter.
But my ordeal was only just beginning. Tony, still seated and surging up to check the impetus of each downward plunge of my helpless body, increased the jogging tempo of his movements as he neared his climax. My vagina was a churning ball of fire, my mind a seething morass. I felt the straining power of Tony's taut limbs and thickly muscled frame, and a flickering repetition of the sensual tumult rising through the conflicting emotions flaying my tortured senses. Then his gushing semen washed my raw, throbbing passage and the force of his passionate grip bruised my thighs.
I was allowed only a brief respite before Eddie, coarse and clumsy, replaced Tony's cock with his, but the flabby, ginger-haired youth took me on the bed with my knees forced into my breasts and the girls holding my legs apart. Tony gripped my arms. With Eddie I experienced scant feeling, except strong revulsion. Phil's approach, soon following, was less coarse but equally sadistic, performed while the others held me over the back of the davenport. My bottom held a peculiar fascination for all four grimacing youths. Phil also devoted what seemed an eternity to licking and smelling the cheeks and cleft, and inflamed his carnal mood to such a pitch that orgasm occurred the moment his thickened member was introduced into my reeking vagina. Partly frustrated by his own overeagerness, he spitefully wiped his dribbling penis round and across my face, smearing sperm on my lips and in my nostrils and laughing at my pathetic reactions.
Gasping, in a state of shivering terror and nervous exhaustion, I sagged in the bruising grip of my grinning tormentors and thought: Thank God! It's all over. But I quickly discovered this to be mere wishful thinking. I did not realize then the amazing relience of youth or the astounding virility of my teen-age captors.
Brick again confronted me. The dimensions of his gross appendage were hardly diminished. He told the others to lay me face down across the antique table. Diane took a fiendish joy in helping to hold me. The colored youth got between my jutting legs and roughly forced them apart. All this time the camera was grinding away on automatic control. Before Brick succeeded in effecting entry the film ran out and a brief delay followed while Tony loaded fresh film into place, meanwhile I was held firmly and Brick played impatiently with his penis, maintaining his formidable erection.
"Ready to roll again," Tony said. "Okay, Brick. You wanted it up her ass so get it stuck into her-if you can."
"Gee!" Diane blurted. "This I've got to see. Man, you'll never work that roll past the rim. Her asshole's too small."
"Want to bet? I never found an asshole yet I couldn't fuck-with a bit of persuasion. I'll screw hers if it-"
I jerked, wrenched an arm free and caught Diane with a resounding slap across her face, drove my foot into Celia's stomach and almost succeeded in breaking away from Eddie. Phil recaptured my wrist and held on grimly. In the struggle I was thrown to the floor.
"CUT!" Tony shouted. He swore when Diane, her cheek crimson, pounced on me as I floundered, momentarily free. She pushed me down and got astride my waist, knelt on my arms, released a loud fart that was cushioned against my stomach.
"You bitch!" she gritted. "I'll teach you-"
She grabbed my hair and banged my head on the floor, then protruded her pelvis and deliberately urinated all over my head, face and shoulders.
"Maybe that will cool you off," she jeered. "You'll eat your own shit before we're through with you. Get her back on the table. Give her hell, Brick. I hope you bust her lousy guts."
"He probably will," Eddie remarked. "Leave something for me, Brick."
Furious, Tony dragged Diane off. He hauled me up, slapped my face and shoved me toward Eddie.
"Hold her!" he snapped. "Or is she too much for you? We've got no film to waste, so this time do it right."
Draped over the table with the taste of urine in my mouth and its clinging reek in my nostrils, I got no further chance to attempt escape. Eddie gripped my left arm, Phil my right. Celia and Diane each held an ankle, stretching my legs wide apart. Brick again positioned himself between my thighs. He pulled me to the extreme edge of the table, eagerly pried the cheeks of my bottom apart and exposed my tightly contracted anus. For a while he fondled the large ovals, kneading and squashing their firm, voluptuous roundness, massaging them, clutching feverishly, smelling the warm cleft and darting his tongue into the odorous recess. He poked a thick forefinger experimentally up the crinkly orifice and worked it ruthlessly and gradually into the clinging aperture which slowly widened and yielded until the probing digit intruded past the second knuckle joint. A torrent of shuddering reaction and sexual rapture caused the Negro's lean body to tense and shiver. He lingered over his disgusting inspection, then succumbed again to unbridled lust and wallowed in the fissure of my bottom, sucking in great mouthfuls of quivering flesh and fiercely inhaling the sexy odor, trailing his tongue again and again around my anus and the black finger intruding into it and along the deep cleavage from where my buttocks merged with my back to the sweating junction of vagina and thighs, his bestial lust intensified by my groans and gasps and convulsive movements.
Finally, he groped between my thighs and inserted two fingers into my shorn cunt, wriggled them about, withdrew them and smeared glistening moisture on the bulging glans of his penis. His gouging thumbs widened my anus, painfully stretching the taut skin, then he spat on the brown orifice and worked the saliva into the hole.
Eddie licked his thick lips and sucked in his flabby stomach. A tremor rippled along his stiffened prick. Phil's scrotum was ridged and wrinkled like the shell of a huge walnut. A drop of semen oozed from the broad knob and clung until he shook it off.
Brick renewed his assault on my back passage, butting his turgid organ at the aperture and pushing resolutely, gradually increasing the cruel pressure and continually stretching the purple-brown rim with his thumbs, easing it over the slightly intruding glans and thrusting more vigorously, impatiently, when the tortured orifice resisted stubbornly. His violent thrusts chafed my stomach against the rough table. My breasts hung down, flopping and jerking. Diane in particular gloated over my swiftly changing facial expressions, smirking and chuckling.
Muscles stood out on the young Negro's back and torso and ridged on his long legs and bulging thighs. His fingertips were deeply embedded in my flesh. Intolerable pain skewered my hot anus and the dark area surrounding it. Already stretched abnormally, the opening widened still more, splitting slightly round the rim, then suddenly yielded considerably with a loud squelching sound. Shooting agony stabbed the whole of my flaming back passage and knotted my heaving stomach. I shrieked, screamed again as Brick rammed in brutally and that awful buggering penis penetrated just beyond the opening. The tender, violated pit closed around the throbbing knob and gripped firmly just behind it, but the Negro quickly followed up his advantage and forced his great, swollen organ deeper, bursting past the clinging restriction and displacing ruptured tissue, jerking slowly but surely further in, oblivious of dragging friction and the mingled blood and excrement oozing past the terrible obstruction, groaning and muttering as he relentlessly defiled the torn aperture and kept savagely ramming harder despite my flapping, thrashing struggles and pitiful cries.
The filthy, depraved bastards were enjoying my misery, grinning and grimacing, masturbating. Phil, grasping my arm with his left hand, held his penis in the other hand and rapidly flogged the foreskin back and forth until, nearing orgasm, he protruded his loins and, thrusting his jerking cock close to my face, shot a stream of spurting semen partly into my gaping, panting mouth. The rest spattered over my features and in my hair.
The Negro was approaching emission too, laboring and grunting. Several inches of hard, monstrously thick penis blocked my anal cavity, and the entire region was an inflamed mass of shuddering torment, but I was too weak and exhausted even to cry out. That remorseless shaft ground in, withdrew slightly and plunged again, pistoning with ponderous rhythm and frightful ferocity. Brick's teeth were gritted, his eyes bloodshot and bulging. Sweat glistened on his ebony body. The crease of his buttocks steamed.
The whole jeering gang shared his obscene excitement.
Suddenly the tearing agony was mellowed by squirting liquid and the terrible, burning friction lessened. That horrible, iron-hard roll vomited its seething load high in my ravished passage and was reluctantly withdrawn, leaving a trail of sticky sperm across the backs of my thighs. But still the stinking black animal was not finished with me. He moved quickly around the table and flaunted his reeking penis before my misted eyes, then forced my mouth open. Diane gleefully assisted in keeping my head still. Brick forced my rigid jaws apart. Unable to prevent his semiflaccid organ from sliding between my lips, compelled to hold its vile, reeking extremity in my mouth, I spluttered and retched. Brick, grinning evilly, asked:
"How you like the taste of your own shit, sweetheart? Man, if your asshole is as sore as my prick I feel real sorry for you."
He laughed. Before I was eventually released Diane replaced the leather collar. I was thrown on the bed and Eddie promptly attempted to duplicate Brick's profane act, but allowed Celia to lure him away to the davenport where, lying on her back with knees drawn up, she clasped him fiercely, mouthing crude provocation, and had his penis inserted in the wet, slimy gash of her eager cunt the instant he mounted her.
Tony picked Diane up and dumped her on the bed beside me, an impulsive gesture because he obviously wanted me again. But Diane, like Celia, would not be denied. Grasping his proudly erect penis she conveyed it quickly to her palpitating vagina, locked her slim legs behind Tony's back and surged up to meet his initial, instinctive thrust. The massive intrusion of his enormous branch prompted a hoarse outcry. Diane's pale eyes smoldered with passion. As Tony forged into her and her clutching quim flogged in and out, responding to his battering tool, she clamped her mouth over his and sucked his tongue, nipping it between her teeth and blurting urgent, gasping appeals.
"Faster, darling!" I heard her mutter hoarsely. "Oh, lover, give it to me! Thrash me, Tony! Harder! Ooooh! Tony! TONY!"
He fucked with concentrated vigor, working deeper with powerful, surging strokes that engulfed his rampant mule's penis until the black hair covering his groin and belly was flattened and mingled with the golden growth sprouting from Diane's swelling mound and his testicles slapped the taut division of her bottom.
Her hot vagina was a reddened maw, a throbbing sheath of squashing, clutching flesh that clung and relaxed, gripped and stretched, puckered, splaying, flapping, every convulsive, searching movement shredding the raw fibers of her carnal senses until she writhed in torrid ecstasy, her aching split a flaming core of churning sensation as if steeped in molten fire. There was adoration in her eyes as she clung to Tony, panting and squirming in the throes of orgasm while the big, handsome youth, feeling his balls and the insides of his thighs wet and sticky, groaned in the rapidly mounting delirium of his own approaching climax, plunged his rampant penis in to the straining roots and, as the delightful, itching torment swept toward the swollen glans, lifted his body, his arms quivering with strain, and expressed the raging culmination of tumultuous passion in two savagely triumphant words: "I'M COMING!"
His muscular frame shuddered. Lust combined with relief twisted his face into a grotesque mask. He withdrew, his cock dribbling, and swore.
"The camera!" he blurted. "You cow, Diane! I didn't want this in the can."
"Let it roll," Diane answered peevishly. "You've got all the shots you need. Cohen can have this as a bonus, and there's still the specialty scenes. But they can wait."
She dragged him down, laughing, and the filming session ended in chaotic orgy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Joe Marsh was tired and hungry. An incorrigible thief and poacher of game, the greater part of his adult life had been spent in jail. Ragged, unshaven and unwashed, Joe had not eaten since noon the previous day. Now, in a sullen, vicious mood, he slouched toward the village of Naunton, in Surrey, having failed in an attempt to break into the post office in the neighboring town of Radcliffe.
It was late, after eleven-thirty, the night warm and close, when, crossing the brow of a hill, Joe saw the lighted windows of a farmhouse. His mood immediately brightened. A farm meant food prospects and the chance to steal a few chickens, perhaps any loose cash lying around. Joe quickened his shuffling steps.
Not yet fifty years of age, Joe was a lean, muscular man of average height, physically strong but a moral coward. His hair was fringed with gray, his neck seamed and wrinkled, his hands broad and powerful, the fingernails filthy. His teeth were rotten and he stank.
Nearing the isolated farmhouse he was surprised to see the place practically in ruins, densely overgrown with brush and weeds. Moonlight revealed widespread desolation. Puzzled, Joe prowled. A gasoline-operated generator obscured any noise he made sneaking around the house. He discovered the motorcycles in the old barn, and wondered.
The first window he attempted to look through was boarded up. None of the others were, and he moved on, peered cautiously into the large room which Tony Bennett and his friends had converted into a reasonably comfortable lounge.
Joe's eyebrows arched. His mouth gaped slackly. He had arrived at a crucial moment following the day's filming session and was seeing Eddie and Celia fucking on the davenport and Tony sporting with Diane on the bed. Two other naked youths, one of them colored, lounged near the bed drinking from cans. Arc-lamps were blazing and Joe could see coils of cable and an assortment of movie-making equipment.
He swore, wondering what sort of crazy setup he had stumbled onto. Joe was a lustful, lecherous man with perverted traits. The lurid scene stirred strong latent urges in his sweaty loins and he put a hand on his genitals, felt his penis through his greasy trousers. It lifted, began to swell.
Muttering, grinning delightedly, Joe pressed his whiskery face close against the cracked pane. He did not understand much of what he saw but his imagination ran riot and the sexual activity needed no explanation. Excitement overcame natural caution and he ripped his fly open, flopped his penis out-a fat, circumcised roll that smelled abominably-and masturbated furiously.
Just a bunch of kids, he thought. Randy buggers. He was not interested in their motives for taking over the derelict farmhouse, only in what he could steal or scrounge. Whanking briskly, he spared a thought for the motorcycles and wondered if he dared steal one. All the immensely powerful machines were fairly new. Then Celia got off the davenport and the sight of her voluptuous nudity concentrated Joe's full attention and energy on his penis and visionary senses.
He was on the verge of an excruciatingly tormenting but rapturously exquisite orgasm when he detected a darting flurry of movement behind him. Reacting instinctively, he whirled, saw an enormous Alsatian dog leaping at him, and flung up both arms to protect his throat. The next moment he was on the ground, yelling and cursing, with the dog tearing at his ragged clothing and seeking to sink gleaming teeth in his flesh. Luckily, the huge animal fouled its fangs in Joe's tattered coat and he was able to grab the loose fur under its slavering jaws.
Slavering ferociously, the dog fought to break the grip. Joe hung on grimly, shouting for help. Startled exclamations sounded from inside the rambling building. Diane, twisting erect, pushed Tony off and rolled from the bed.
"That's Baron!" she declared. "He's caught a prowler! Get out there. It might be the police!"
"Police be damned!" Tony said scornfully. "Why should they come here? Even if that Mannering kid or Camelia Quincannon went to them how would they know where to look? This place is miles from anywhere. Nobody's been here for months, maybe years, until we-"
"Somebody's here now, outside that window! Baron's got him. Come on."
Phil and Brick were already making for the outer door, disregarding their nakedness. Eddie followed with Celia. Tony and Diane found them trying to separate the dog from a thickset, ragged hobo whose gaping fly and exposed penis explained his lurking presence. Tony shouted and the Alsatian instantly heeded the command and slunk behind the barn.
"Lucky you asked Tubby to bring Baron," Phil said.
"Damn right," Tony agreed. "Who is the scruffy bastard?"
"Name's Joe Marsh," Joe blurted. "I weren't meaning no harm. Figured to spend the night here, that's all. Then I seen you kids through the window and what you were doing and got all worked up. Then that damn dog attacked me."
"We ought to castrate the spying creep," Eddie declared. Brick laughed derisively.
"Man!" he exclaimed. "You worried about some bum seeing you fuck after all the stuff we got in the can for Cohen? You talk foolish. This character wasn't to know-"
"Shut up!" Tony interrupted. "All right, Joe. You're a dirty old man but we aren't going to hurt you, in fact I might be able to use you. That's a sizeable amount of prick you've got dangling there. It's rotten and it stinks, but I'm sure darling Pamela would appreciate it."
"I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"Perhaps not, Joe, but you will. I'm going to make you a proposition. Eddie, I intended casting you as the beast in that Bride of the Beast sketch but now I've got a better idea. Suppose we let Joe play the part?"
"It's okay with me," Eddie said. "What do you think, Phil?"
"Why not? It'll be a giggle. I can just picture that snooty Quincannon kid's reaction. What's the score, Tony?"
"You'll get the drift in a minute. Listen, Joe. We've got something going here and you've dropped right in the middle of it. So now we've got a problem. We could get rid of you, Joe. But I've decided to give you a break. How would you like to make yourself some money?"
Joe's shifty eyes gleamed. Low cunning mingled with the suspicion clouding their bloodshot depths.
"What would I have to do?" he asked apprehensively.
"Nothing difficult, Joe. We're making a movie, see? A thriller. Lots of sex and scary stuff. The details aren't important right now. All I want you to do is dress up in a gorilla skin and-"
"Eh? What's what? A gorilla skin? You're puttin' me on, kid."
"I'm serious, Joe. All you'd have to do is act like an ape, shuffle round and thump your chest and-"
"So why don't one of you do it? Why do you want me? Is it dangerous? I ain't takin' any risks."
"No risk, Joe. Just wear the skin and scare hell out of-But wait a minute. Diane, fetch my pants."
The blonde departed, instantly obedient. When she returned Tony took the jeans from her, extracted a folded wad of bills from the hip pocket and peeled off several.
"Twenty-five now and another twenty-five after we've shot the film," he told Joe. "Fair enough?"
Joe nodded. He held out a grimy fist. Tony gave him the money.
"For this kind of money I can be anything and do anything you want," he declared. "Just tell me exactly what I have to do."
Tony explained, stressing lurid details. Joe grinned broadly.
"You mean I get to fuck her and everything?" he demanded incredulously.
"Anything you like, Joe, so long as you make it convincing. That's the whole idea, see? Bride of the Beast."
Joe chuckled obscenely. He fingered his slack penis, put it away and buttoned his fly.
"You can sleep in the cellar tonight," Tony said. "It's a kind of storeroom. Diane will give you a meal and a drink. Ordinarily the way you smell would bother me, Joe. But the stink and the monkey outfit will make a combination that should jolt little Pamela right out of her grubby shell. Just one word of warning, Joe. If you ever tell anybody about this and-"
"I won't," Joe warned vehemently. "Me and the police ain't exactly on speakin' terms. Besides, I don't want to get involved. I don't know who that girl is you've got fastened up and I don't want to know. I can keep my mouth shut."
"You'd better. Take him through to the storeroom, Phil. We'll have to trust you, Joe. Don't make me sorry I did. Eddie wasn't fooling just now. If you ever breathe a word of this we'll find you, and we'll cut that flabby prick out by the roots."
Joe gulped. The mere thought of sharp steel slicing into his flaccid organ caused his scrotum to tighten into a hard, shriveled knot.
CHAPTER NINE
Next morning, Tony telephoned my stepmother. I was allowed to speak with her, very briefly. Father was still in Europe. No, Camelia had not notified him.
She sounded excited and sarcastic, indifferent to my welfare, more agitated by possible scandal and father's reaction than concerned about me. Her manner was almost accusing, as if the whole sordid incident was my fault.
But she agreed to pay the ten thousand. She asked for a few days in which to raise the money. Tony told her to get it by Friday and bring it to Gresham Park, near Radcliffe, at noon. She would either be met or would find further instructions in an envelope under a bronze statuette near the fountain. If she went to the police neither she nor my father would ever see me again.
That would not worry Camelia, I knew, but she had to consider my father and consequently I confidently expected her fullest cooperation.
Tony hung up. I dreaded a repetition of the previous day's filming ordeal, but after breakfast Tony and all the gang except Eddie departed on their motorcycles, leaving me chained and wearing that abominable padlocked collar.
Eddie occupied himself processing film for a time but eventually entered my bedroom prison and stood with his back against the wall, appraising me insolently and chewing gum. Acutely conscious of my nudity and filthy condition, for I had not been given facilities for washing or even allowed to comb my tangled hair, I shrank away.
But Eddie did not immediately molest me. He merely stared, sucking his large teeth and smirking patronizingly. When he spoke to me I refused to answer. He shrugged.
"All right," he said. "Be miserable, you stupid little cow. It's a long time till Friday, kid. Maybe you'll be glad of some company before then, apart from the rats."
"Not yours, you uncouth, lecherous beast!" I retorted. "And when I do get out of here I'll make you all sorry you ever started this insane stunt."
"Don't be like that," Eddie reproached, grinning. "I like you. No, on the level. I really do. I admire spirit in a girl. You've got spunk, kid. And I like the way you're put together."
He licked his lips, intensified his gaze. I could almost read his mind. The trend of his indecent thoughts stirred latent fires in his genital organs and he unconsciously fingered the front of his trousers, stressing the ridged outline of his fat penis and causing it to protrude. I watched the bulge grow bigger.
"Why be stubborn?" he asked. "What's the sense in fighting all the time? You're making it harder on yourself. Maybe if you tried getting on the right side of Tony he'd let you out of this pigpen so you could get cleaned up. Be sensible. I could make things a lot easier for you. There's just the two of us now. No camera. Nobody watching and making fun of you all the time. Why don't you and me have our own private party, huh? Bend over and stick your ass out and let me belt this into you-"
"Get out!" I screamed. "GET OUT!"
"All right. But you're going to have it, you stupid little twat. Soon as the gang gets back, we'll-"
I struck at him. He dodged, pulled back, went out laughing, leaving the door open. Fuming and trembling, I sank down on the bed. Then I made an intriguing discovery. The padlock supposedly securing the collar encircling my neck had not been properly closed. When I wrenched at it in a sudden fit of temper it came away in my hand and fell to the floor. I picked it up. Staring at it, I conceived an audacious plan. I did not put it into effect immediately but thought about it, nerving myself to go through with it. Eventually, firmly resolved to make the attempt however distressing, I called Eddie.
He came, still languidly chewing, and indicated agreeable surprise when I forced a smile. I patted the bed beside me.
"I've been thinking," I said, quite truthfully, trying to appear casual. "Maybe you're right, Eddie. I am desperately lonely and terrified. I'm sorry I screamed at you. You're not like the others, not really. This was all Tony's idea, I know that. Please, Eddie, if I try to-to be nice to you and do the things you want, will you help me? I'm going mad in this awful place. But I suppose you're too afraid of Tony to-"
"Balls to Tony!" Eddie declared belligerently. "I'm not scared of him or anybody else. I just want a slice of that money."
"But suppose I was to promise you the whole ten thousand all for yourself? My mother left me a lot of money, Eddie. I don't need to rely on my father or my stepmother. I've got money of my own, and I'll make it really worth your while to let me go. And I wouldn't say-"
"Forget it, kid. I'm no rat. I thought you called me in here because you'd decided to act sociable."
"Don't go!" I said quickly. "All right, I was wrong to ask you for help, to take risks on my account. But with you saying you liked me I thought-"
"I do like you. You've got right under my skin, baby."
"Come and sit down, then. Talk to me. I'll go crazy if I don't talk to somebody. Can't you at least remove this awful collar, just for a while? It's making my neck sore."
"That's too bad because I don't have the key."
He looked at me hard, spat out the gum.
"The whole ten thousand," he mused. "If I thought I could believe you. If you and me could really get together and make a deal without the others knowing, maybe we could work something out. It depends, kid."
"On what, Eddie?"
He opened his fly and took out his partly stiffened penis.
"On this," he said, shaking the disgusting organ. "Prove you're on the level and maybe we'll talk a deal. Don't be afraid to take hold of it, baby. What's wrong with you anyway? Doesn't the sight and feel of a hot, stiff prick do anything for you? You've done nothing but bawl and scream since we brought you here. Nobody's hurt you. All right, so maybe having ten inches of black cock worked up your asshole was rough, but it won't kill you. Some girls I know even prefer it that way. You could have made it a whole lot easier on yourself, just like now. Come on, kid. Let's not fuck about. I'm crazy to get some prick into you, and I can't resist that gorgeous ass of yours. I want to shove my nose as far up it as I can get and smell that sweet crack. I want to lick every luscious, goddamn inch. Come on, baby. Turn around and let me sniff your ass, then get some cunt around this before I shoot spunk all over the floor."
I let him approach close. Somehow I overcame revulsion and allowed him to push his erect penis into the curve of my fingers. I followed his obscene instructions then, and as I rubbed and pulled the spongy, tumid roll of flesh I experienced a tightness in my vagina and anus, a strangely pleasurable tension from which other, more pronounced sensations developed, feelings that alarmed and electrified me.
Eddie dropped his trousers, momentarily breaking my clammy hold. He raised his shirt and fully exposed the whole of his hairy pelvis and jutting penis and the dangling, dark wrinkled testicles below, then captured my hand and drew it back to his organ, grunting as I resumed the whanking action, compensating for lack of experience and enthusiasm with amateurish vigor and enforced concentration, still following my plan and waiting for an opportunity to put it fully into operation.
Then, inexplicably, the disturbing sensations in my sexual parts increased until eventually I reaced a crucial stage where, astonishingly, what I was doing no longer seemed repugnant, but actually stimulating. When Eddie twisted me around to face the wall I felt a sense of incredible elation and extreme wonder rather than shame and I bent over without being prompted, spread my legs and placed the palms of my hands on the bed to brace myself.
Something of my former panic and disgust returned when Eddie dropped to his knees and began kissing and sniffing my bottom, but when he eventually adopted a crouching stance and, groping roughly below the splayed cheeks, touched my vagina, I felt a series of distinct thrills, then a violent shock as he separated the shorn vulva and butted his swollen penis impatiently at the slit.
The bold plan I had conceived still lingered in my mind, but I did not seem to have either the will power or the determination to put the final stage into operation. While I hesitated, my body stiffened and tensely responding to the almost frighteningly insistent tingling sensations provoked by the lunging contact of Eddie's penis with my cowardly vagina, he achieved deeper penetration and bored into the palpitating vent with a wild ferocity that wrought a cry of pain and fear from my open mouth.
In that instant I realized with absolute horror what I was doing, the enormity of what I was allowing and actually condoning. The bitter, shattering truth drained most of the strength from my limbs so that when I snatched up the iron bucket and suddenly swung around, severing the carnal connection and aiming a desperate swipe at Eddie's head, my reflexes were slow and the bucket base merely struck him on the shoulder.
Hurt and startled, angrily frustrated, he staggered back and almost fell. I saw the premature spurt of sperm leaving his jerking penis and felt it spatter warm and sticky on my bare flesh, then I swung the bucket again and this time caught Eddie flush on the angle of his jaw.
The impact knocked him down. He sprawled, almost stunned, and I quickly unfastened the collar and darted past Eddie, out of the bedroom and across the kitchen to the side door. I dragged it open, then paused, remembering my state of complete nudity. As I looked around, frantically seeking some form of covering, a shadow fell across the doorway. A strong hand clamped around my wrist and jerked me out into the sunlight.
I voiced a sharp cry. A whiskery hobo stood leering at me, a middle-aged, unkempt individual whose ugly face and jaundiced eyes expressed utter depravity and evil and whose person positively stank. His filthy fingers gripped my arm like a steel vise.
"Well now," he drawled. "What have we here? Seems like everybody I come up against around this place ain't got no use for clothes. You're a real surprise packet, you are, and fairly askin' for some cock goin' around like that. I reckon you must be-"
"Let me go," I begged. "Please! I must get away from here."
"Not so fast, my lovely. It ain't that simple. Don't be in such a hurry to leave old Joe."
He stared at my uncovered breasts, licked his lips, lowered his intent gaze to my shorn pelvis, then tried to turn me around so that he could see my bottom. His free hand shot out and clutched my left breast, crushed the jutting globe painfully, mauled it brutally. Abruptly he jerked me forward against his foul rags, released my wrist and cupped both hands under my buttocks, laughing harshly when I strained and fought, beating at his head and shoulders. He restrained me easily.
"Don't be scared, girl," he protested. "Old Joe won't hurt you, leastways no more than the stretchin' a few inches of stiff prick will give that poutin' little cunt of yours. Hold still, you little vixen!"
"Please!" I pleaded. "You must let me go. You don't understand."
"But I do, kid. You're the girl that bunch have been hidin' away. I know all about it. You aren't goin' anywhere, especially now I've had a good look at you."
"I'll make it worth your while. I'll give you money."
"That's a laugh. You ain't got a stitch to your back. Where would you get money? Forget it, kid. I'm satisfied with the deal I already got. You and me are slated to get real friendly later on-or maybe they haven't told you about that? Well, no matter. You'll find out soon enough. Meanwhile what do you say to a bit of rehearsal? You're just my type, honey. You and me ought to hit it off just fine. God! You're gorgeous!"
He relaxed his grip on my numbed arm and compressed my buttocks again, embedding his fingertips and stretching the supple flesh away from the cleft and my anus. When he tried to kiss me his foul breath sickened me and I twisted my head violently away, pushing feebly at his chest until he wrapped a sinewy arm around my neck and turned me so that my back was toward him. He gazed at my bottom in fascinated admiration, and swore, suddenly jerked my head back and dragged me over into an awkward leaning posture, delved a grimy hand between my thighs, chuckling when I voiced sharp disgust.
"You're a little darlin'," he declared huskily. "You got the finest pair of high-risin' beauties I ever did see, and the nicest ass. Don't fight me, girl. Let's have another feel, you frisky young cocksucker. Ah, yes! Haw! That makes you squirm, eh? This will make you wriggle a damn sight more, or I'll stand bein' ass-fucked by a regiment of Soho queers."
Holding me helpless in the curve of his right arm he used his left hand to rip the buttons of his fly undone. I smelled the sour odor of his exposed genitals, then felt the rapid beating of his rearing penis against my thigh and buttock. Its clammy, reeking touch drove me frantic and I drove my elbow viciously into his stomach, but he merely grunted and increased the pressure of his choking hold, then mouthed dreadful oaths when Eddie staggered from the side entry.
I had forgotten about Eddie. He stopped abruptly and stood scowling. Apart from a bruise on his chin he seemed fully recovered. He indicated Joe's drooping penis, already losing its rigidity.
"Put that away and fuck off," he ordered curtly.
ONE
"You were told to stay out of sight. How much have you told her?"
"Nothin' she don't already know."
"You slimy bastard! If Tony finds out you've been talking to her and flashing your stinking roll it'll cost you your lousy balls."
"Now hold on a minute. If I hadn't grabbed her she'd have gotten away and don't you forget that. Your pal might want to know what you were doin' to let her slip out, kid."
"All right, so you did me a favor. Now get lost. And you, you clever cow, get inside. You'll regret that crack on the jaw you gave me. I'll make you shit blood for this. I don't know how you got out of that fucking collar, baby, but you won't get another chance if I have to break both your bastard legs. Get inside."
He looked around as the reverberation from motorcycle engines heralded the imminent return of Tony and the others. That horrible man had gone, slinking into the shadows. I supposed he was the handyman or caretaker or something. It was unimportant. Eddie pushed me into the kitchen and shut the door, hustled me back into that ominous bedroom.
He picked up the padded collar, examined the chain, rattled it, retrieved the padlock and inspected that. This time when it snapped closed there was no error. The loud clicking sound as the steel shank connected positively inside the brass casing went right through me like the stab of a knife blade.
I had lost track of the dragging passing of time.
All I could be certain of was that it was night. Lights blazed in the lounge but the kitchen was in darkness. For almost two ' hours during the afternoon I had been allowed out of my prison while some form of activity went on, but I was closely guarded. When I pleaded for an opportunity to bathe Diane threw a bucket of cold water over me and told me it was quite adequate. It was not necessary, she added, for me to be too clean for the job in hand-a cynical statement that conveyed nothing to me. I had no idea of what she meant.
The camera, I noticed on returning to the bedroom, was set up in the kitchen and was focused toward the door of the "jail", but in my agitation I attached no great significance to the fact nor to the arc-lamps strategically placed in all four corners of the gloomy bedroom, fastened to the roof beams.
All right, so they intended to flim me like a captive animal amid those dismal, musty surroundings. What did it matter? What did anything matter any more? I had enjoyed a few brief moments of fresh air and sunshine, the warm breeze and scents of wild flowers among the long grasses. Nudity no longer seemed symbolic of shame but a perfectly natural, normal condition. Although instinctive modesty prompted me to cover myself whenever any of my captors approached close I felt more resentful than embarrassed, and the frequent exposure of male sex organs in a state of total or partial erection was losing its initial horror, in fact I was fast becoming accustomed to immorality and although witnessing acts of gross indecency (in particular the squalid spectacle of actual fornication committed with brutal frankness in my sight and hearing), still shocked me profoundly, they were often tempered by curiosity, alien in that context to my nature and strict upbringing, a fluttering assertion of subconscious cravings I had already experienced on numerous occasions without appreciating their origin or significance. Sometimes a spark of actual lewd interest emerged to blend with the confusion and bleak despair clouding my mind.
I was less afraid, often rebellious, always disdainful despite everything I was forced to endure. I was determined that Tony Bennett should not break my spirit.
But that night my fears returned a thousand-fold. What happened was entirely unexpected and horribly realistic. I was lying on the bed, having eaten a substantial supper, and was thinking about my home, and Father, longing, wishing, wondering how such a thing could happen to somebody like me, when the door slowly creaked open.
A single dim light came on, providing just sufficient illumination to outline a squat, massive form bulking in the opening. Then, to my horror, as the black shape moved forward, shambling, grunting and snarling, the light brightened and I identified the shaggy figure and hideous face as belonging to a gorilla!
My heart almost burst with fright. The huge beast's amber, deeply sunken eyes glared balofully.
Its terrifying jaws gaped, revealing yellow fangs and the red glistening cavern of a mouth bristling with enormous teeth. Monstrous, gnarled hands reached out relentlessly toward me. A rank stench pervaded the low room.
At the back of my seething mind a chord of memory flashed, a radio announcement concerning an escaped gorilla.
The enormous hands came closer. I screamed, then my throat dried out and I could only utter hoarse, strangled gasps as the dreadful creature shuffled nearer, groping ponderously.
I scrambled frantically off the bed and back away, whimpering with terror, until the wall at my back prevented further retreat. That awful mind-shattering fear as those black, leathery fingers reached for me cannot be expressed in mere words, or the suffocating horror as I was drawn into a savagely clutching embrace.
I slumped, sagged limply, was swung off my feet and tossed on the bed. Vaguely, I was aware of the light increasing until it hurt my eyes, and it seemed I could hear the movie camera functioning, but in my pitiful terror I thought, if indeed my confused mental meanderings could be interpreted as thoughts, that it must be imagination, a trick of the subconscious.
Then I forgot the lights and the haunting voices, the torrid heat from the blazing arc-lamps, because as I lay there on my stomach, sick with fear, the hairy monster got down on its knees and, unbelievably, terrifyingly, snuffled at my bare bottom, seeming almost to grovel.
A hot, wet tongue licked into the deep crease and all round the puckered rim of my anus as the cheeks were drawn apart, then probed the taut aperture. I felt warm breath on my flesh and heard the swift inrush of air sucked into the beast's flared nostrils. Grunting, he explored lower and found my shrinking vagina, licked and sucked it roughly.
The great, fumbling hands crept up over my belly and grasped my breasts, completely covered them and clamped shut painfully. Then I heard that terrible ape speak!
A coarse, muttered exclamation, nothing more. But it was enough. Vivid realization came swiftly to me, the incredible, ghastly truth. It was no gorilla sniffing around my bottom and licking my vagina but a man! A man dressed in the skin of a beast long dead, a foul, nauseating creature whose thick, turgid penis was even then prodding impatiently into the trembling recess exposed to his lascivious gaze.
Surging anger quickly dispersed fear. The momentary flicker of relief evaporated, yielding to sobbing fury. I pushed up from the bed but was promptly gripped and flung prone again. A knee ground into my back, was removed as the man (somehow I did not suspect any of the youths) seized my hips and dragged me up with legs jerking and dangling, held me in that absurd position and stabbed his thick penis remorselessly at my cringing slit, ramming his reeking organ into me with a savage ferocity equal to that of the beast he was masquerading as.
There was no escaping his fierce assault. His strength was supplemented by the desperation of sexual madness, nor did the clumsy gorilla skin greatly hinder his movements.
And now I could hear Tony shouting instructions, girlish laughter, squeals of delight, raucous, derisive remarks. My degradation was complet, absolute. I had suffered the final indignity, and those rotten, contemptible bastards thought it was funny, a huge joke.
Abruptly I was grabbed and twisted over, my limbs flopped. The "gorilla" crouched over me, knees clamping my ribs, that hideous beast's face "thrust close. I saw then that the eyes gleamed through holes in the original ape-skull sockets. Similarly there were openings for the man to breathe through. I looked into the same shifty eyes I had stared at earlier that same day, and I recognized the strong body odor rising from the sweating occupant of that shaggy black gorilla skin.
The revolting creature intent on raping me was the evil character Eddie had inadvertently saved me from, the filthy lecher named Joe.
With realization came chronic nausea and shuddering disgust, then renewed struggles when that wet, smelly prick was brought close to my mouth and my head was brutally seized and firmly held. I felt my senses slipping and was barely conscious when the foul organ touched my lips, forced them apart and, distending them hugely, was swiftly stroked into my mouth, filling the cavity and blocking my throat, and flogged in and out with berserk frenzy.
"That's enough!" I heard somebody shout.
"She'll choke, you crazy bastard!"
Tony's voice. Tony-He was-My brain was whirling, my lungs filled with flaming torment. I collapsed as Joe released me, lay with eyes closed. The room seemed to close in, then everything went black.
CHAPTER TEN
Thursday was a repetition of Wednesday in some respects. Tony was in a foul temper. Some of the color film previously exposed had insufficient detail. Too much self-indulgence and not enough concentration on what Cohen was paying for, Tony alleged. He was just as guilty. They would have to shoot some retakes, and this time I was to play the leading role.
That repulsive man, Joe, had gone. Diane, simulating Tony's mood, was impatient and sullen. She was particularly vindictive toward me and derived sadistic pleasure from humiliating and taunting me. During retakes of the pseudo-Lesbian scenes I was forced to cooperate instead of merely acquiescing by threats of being burned with cigarette stubs, and underwent another ordeal of licking and smelling Diane's bottom, and Celia's, and indulging in oral masturbation.
Diane again urinated on me and then made me lick the drops from her pouting vagina. How I hated her. But I was beyond tears. I endured everything defiantly, even when ravaged by Brick while sprawled across Eddie's broad back and, thus supported with both arms firmly held, was obliged to clamp my legs round the Negro's hips to avoid injury to my back.
Typically, Phil preferred to make me suck his penis. Diane and Celia held me in a kneeling position on the floor with arms twisted up behind my back, and it was, of course, Diane who guided the blond youth's immensely bloated organ to my mouth and forced my jaws apart. While Phil was ramming his fat roll between my lips Celia was holding Eddie's stiff prick in her free hand and masturbating him expertly, persevering until his erection was truly formidable and then relinquishing my cruelly bent arm to Tony's powerful grip and, quickly squatting, taking Eddie's huge penis into her distorted mouth and sucking it passionately, licking all around the bulging knob and along the surging shaft, slavering and kissing, massaging his aching balls gently but firmly, until, nearing orgasm, determination to avenge the incident with the bucket superseded his lust and he stubbornly rejected Celia's obscene stimulation and withdrew his inflexible rod, ignoring her objections and loud condemnation.
As Phil, grimacing, pumped hot gushes of pungent, gluey sperm into my twisted, retching mouth, Eddie got behind me and signaled the girls to haul me erect, but I was no sooner on my feet than they forced me to stoop over so low that my head was rammed down between my knees and held me like that while Eddie, muttering and grunting and holding his jerking, elongated penis, dragged my thighs apart and groped until the broad, blunt tip of his strongly pulsing cock splayed the practically hairless entry of my vagina.
Sick with the fear that he intended to violate my anus, I felt actual relief when the quivering vulva closed round the throbbing glans of his great, battering prick, but voiced a cry of pain when he lunged and burst into the tender passage.
He fornicated with savage abandon, deliberately punishing me, shagging furiously and thrashing his chunky boom into my dragging split in a rapid series of heaving movements that lifted my buttocks each time and squashed their pink-white plumpness against his hairy belly and pelvis.
Diane, with that infuriating supercilious expression on her face, abused my breasts, pulling them out of shape and spitefully pinching the nipples, but she had overestimated my helplessness, for my feet were still free, and the smirk was wiped off very quickly when I surged forward and suddenly brought my head up sharply under her chin.
Eddie, frustrated in the instant immediately prior to orgasm when my unexpected movement caused his penis to pull out, shot a spurting flood of milky sperm all over my hot, heaving bottom.
Diane, almost in tears and clutching her jaw, went outside mouthing foul threats. But for the collar and long chain I might have succeeded in escaping then, while everybody's attention was diverted.
I was quickly subdued. Tony, unclothed and in a better humor, took over from Eddie who, sullen and glowering, lit a cigarette and flopped on the davenport. Tony led me to the bed.
"You'd better make this good," he warned. "Otherwise we'll have to go through the whole thing again. So cut out all the tears and arguments and the rest of the shit you've been giving us. Remember we don't give a monkey's fuck about you, kid. All that sob stuff is wasted on us and on me especially. All you mean to me is a tight cunt and a sweet pair of tits, and an ass I can enjoy rubbing up against. So far you haven't been treated all that bad, so don't push your luck. Apart from the money there's only one reason for you being here, darling, so you might as well be sensible. Forget inhibitions and all the stupid notions you grew up with. Relax, baby. Let yourself go and who knows? You might even get to like it. And if you don't, well, that's too fucking bad." He pushed me impatiently.
"If your stepmother shows up tomorrow with the money we can all get out of this rat-infested dump," he added. "At least you'll have something to remember. You won't forget me in a hurry, or any of us, especially that smelly bastard, old Joe."
"You're a pack of dirty cowards," I accused bitterly. "Filthy, cowardly wasters. The lowest form of scum."
Tony hit me, delivering a back-handed slap that knocked me off my feet. I collapsed across the bed, trying so desperately to preserve my pathetic shreds of dignity and remain calm even though my heart was pounding. I brushed trailing hair from my eyes, glared at Tony.
"Scum," I repeated. "You've neither feeling nor conscience. That awful, vicious gorilla masquerade was just the kind of stupid thing one can expect from a conceited, long-haired bully with the mentality of a child. I wish to God I could-Aargh!"
He struck me again, sprawled on the bed and angrily pinned me down.
"All right," he gritted. "If that's the way you want it I can be a rougher bastard than most. You'll crack before I do, sweetheart. I thought you were beginning to show some common sense and really warm up a bit, but I guess you're just a sexless jellyfish after all. Okay, if you want to play rough I'll start slapping you around and see if that will jolt some of the shit out of you."
He slapped me again, then a fourth time.
"Now you'll do as you're told," he declared viciously. "You're all through giving me a hard time. You either play ball or I'll send you back to your fat slob of a father minus a few accessories and maybe a few essentials like the nipples off those gorgeous tits and a fistful of cunt, perhaps the end of that pretty nose, kid. If you think we're scum maybe we'd best start acting like scum. It's up to you. This is your last chance. The very last. You dig me, darling? Okay. Turn over. NO! Don't hold her. She's going to do this voluntarily, aren't you, Pamela dear? I'll tell you what to do and you'll do it. Understand? If you don't, then you'll see the other side of Tony Bennett. Now turn over."
He released me and lay on his back, playing with his penis. I sat up. My calmness amazed me. Tony's threats created a cold core of panic but I fought it down and once I had it under control the reality of the situation seemed less grim. Somehow, the prospect of another sexual interlude with Tony did not seem so shocking. I wondered at my placid acceptance of the ultimatum, and when I looked at Tony's thickened, throbbing organ I experienced a repetition of those vague but disturbing stirrings deep inside my body.
His violently pulsing prick reminded me of a fat, restless animal, a rampant, sinuous white beast that-to my eternal shame I had to confess it-tended to fascinate rather than repel, and as I gazed into Tony's dark, brooding eyes and saw the swirling passion reflected in their glittering depths, I thought: My God! I'm attracted to him!
He was handsome, so big and virile. A cruel, arrogant bastard but in many ways like a spoiled child, with a strange, compelling magnetism that had the power to penetrate the dense wall of hatred and contempt I had built around myself.
He grabbed me, breaking the chain of my thoughts, a fantasia that logic ridiculed and rejected but could not erase. I allowed Tony to push and pull me about uncomplainingly until he had me positioned how and where he wanted me, and finished up kneeling astride his chest, facing his feet, with my breasts hanging down and my hands spread either side of his fully extended and parted legs. My absurdly protruding bottom was splayed close to his face, my vagina completely exposed, pouting within inches of his lips.
Tony's arms were curved over my hips so that his hands clasped my buttocks and exaggerated the broad expanse of rounded flesh and dark, satiny cleft. I should have felt foolish and grossly obscene, utterly revolted. But I didn't. I merely felt resigned and, presently, actual anticipation, a surge of wickedness as if the indecent revelation of bottom and vagina was a form of erotic stimulation accentuating powerful emotions I was just beginning to experience and understand.
The fluttering thrills tantalizing my genital region were intensified. I wanted to give vent to my alarming feelings in a display of vulgarity, to exert myself violently. I felt partly numbed and yet the rest of my body responded consciously to a strange excitement that frightened me all the more because I did not understand it. I only knew that for some obscure reason I was no longer disgusted, only concerned and apprehensive.
The arrogantly stiffened penis jutting toward my chin seemed to mesmerize me. Could fear alone, I reasoned, account for such an incredible transformation? Could fear of reprisals overcome disgust and loathing and provoke willing acceptance of physical and visual contacts hitherto excluded from my restricted environment?
Questions, unanswered, and all feasible explanations were driven abruptly from my groping mind as Tony suddenly uttered a hoarse cry and plunged his face into the division of my bottom, licking and sniffing like a berserk animal in a moaning frenzy of demented lust.
A torrent of liquid fire seemed to envelop my whole cringing body, seeping into every part of it, flowing like molten lava from my anus to the tight slit of my vagina. Briefly, his tongue flickered in and around the rim of my back passage. Then his clutching lips closed over my bulging cunt and in a single convulsive movement he sucked the shorn vulva right into his avidly gaping mouth and compressed the dark folds between tongue base and mouth roof, biting roughly but not too painfully, his curved fingers embedded in my groin and his nose boring into my itching anus.
I cried out with the sudden delirious surge of sexual impulse. It was as if an electric shock had passed through my genital parts', an exhilarating yet devastating sensation, essentially shocking but delightfully thrilling.
Stubborn fears and prejudices still lingered, the doubts and the guilt, the awful uncertainty. But when Tony told me thickly to take hold of his penis I did so after only a few brief moments of hesitation, motivated by blind, unreasoning impulse rather than fear or desperation, and whanked his monstrously distended organ awkwardly but effectively, rolling the wrinkled foreskin right back and distorting the purple glans, then pulling it forward to cover the straining knob, discovering as I handled the gross implement that its throbbing, spongy contact with my clammy hand aroused no reaction stronger than mild distaste coupled with a certain wanton defiance-until its bloated mass grew even stiffer and fatter and the little opening in the glans gaped like a tiny red mouth every time I pushed the foreskin back, and some weird fantasy encroaching into the morass of my alienated mind created a fierce desire, almost an obsession, to see the spurting discharge of semen.
I must, I thought, be going completely mad. The mauling and frantic sucking and groping continued, and for a long time Tony concentrated his lust on my bottom and in orally masturbating my squirming vagina, filling me with alternate flurries of recurring shame and conflicting sensations, and strangely complex emotions.
He was like a drooling maniac. Each time his flared nostriles inhaled the odorous core of secret flesh that was so tremendously exciting to him he uttered profane exclamations of delight and sexual torment. But eventually he broke off long enough to thrust his loins upward, forcing his great, standing prick against the palm of my closed hand, and urged me impatiently to suck it.
I demurred, instinctively twisted my head away.
"Suck my cock, you red-cunted shitbag!" Tony demanded. "It won't poison you. SUCK IT!"
I recoiled, tried to conquer revulsion, but failed. Wearily resigned as I was to everything else those depraved delinquents had perpetrated, virtually brainwashed, I could not face that final obscenity and submit voluntarily to it.
Celia sneered. She sniggered derisively.
"She doesn't know how, without being made, Tony," she declared mockingly. "She doesn't even know what to do with a fat, stiff prick. You simply haven't a clue, have you, darling Pamela? You're wasting your time and a lot of film, Tony, expecting her to cooperate. She's useless."
Suddenly I was savagely resentful, seething with anger as unaccountable as it was real, needled into retaliation. I reared up to the full extent of my arms, squatting firmly on Tony's chest, and released his penis as if it had suddenly become glowing-hot.
"I can do anything you can do, you fat cow!" I shouted. "And better!"
"Prove it," she taunted, retorting instantly. "Make her prove it, Tony. The frigid little mouse hasn't got a good fuck in her. You'll never get any sense out of her."
"She's chicken," Eddie accused.
"Liar!" I yelled without knowing why it seemed important to refute the jeering slurs.
"All right. Show us, then. If you're so brave let's see some action. Suck Tony's prick and we'll believe you."
Incredibly, provoked as I was by the ludicrous argument, the prospect did not utterly appall me. But I hesitated, deterred by scruples as yet unobscured by the alien trends and tendencies scourging my body and still largely governing my reactions and influencing my reason.
My every instinct was to withdraw into the protective shell of icy reserve and prudish frigidity I had always accepted without thought or question as normal behavior patterns, quite natural moral safeguards instilled in me by my mother's teachings.
Instead, I suggested a compromise. I had learned only too well the futility of resistance, of screaming and raving and struggling. The compulsion to prove Celia wrong kept predominant in my confused mind. What was the point of trying to evade brutal reality now? What else could Tony Bennett and his degenerate friends do to me that had not already been done? They had taken my virginity, my honor and self-respect.
But they had not broken my spirit, and perhaps I might ultimately benefit from the shocking experience and emerge from the ordeal as a woman instead of a terrified, emotionally unstable girl.
And so I compromised myself with my mouth poised above Tony's regally rearing penis and said:
"If I do, will you promise to leave me alone then? If I do whatever you want, this time, for your horrible film?"
Tony let off kissing and smelling the division of my buttocks. He sighed, then chuckled, kneaded my flushed flesh.
"Maybe," he answered evasively. "If you've really decided to be sensible. Depends on how you work out. I'm all worked up, baby, too screwed up to think straight. God! You've got the nicest ass I ever saw. I could crawl right up inside your nut-brown asshole and die, kitten. Let's not waste any more time and film, kid. There's something about you gets right through to me. You're sexy as hell and you don't even realize it. Why fight it, darling? I'll make a whore of you yet."
He reached high over the curve of my back and tried to force my head down toward his huge, rampant stalk.
"Suck it," he insisted. "For Christ's sake, kitten, don't torture me. My guts are on fire. Come on, then maybe I'll give you a break."
I resisted, shook off his hand and gradually lowered my face voluntarily to his proudly jutting penis. I opened my mouth, that shuddering, twitching roll of gristly flesh throbbing so very close, repellent yet somehow fascinating, the pulsing glans oozing moisture.
I brought my gaping mouth closer and balked, retching, unable to conclude the final, supreme test. I simply could not do it.
Celia sniggered. Tony swore, gasped impatiently. He jerked me prone and pushed me down the bed until my feet were touching his shoulders and his penis, trailing across my belly, whacked into the junction of my thighs and pelvis and trembled against the split of my bottom.
Breathing heavily, Tony grasped his frustrated organ, roughly separated the lips of my vagina, broadly exposed in all its hairless nakedness, and contrived to insert the knob of his prick even from that difficult, distorted angle.
Thrusting in promptly, preventing his penis from escaping with the constant pressure of two fingers, he commenced an energetic undulation of hips and buttocks, penetrating devastatingly deep, clasping my bottom and watching the slippery movements of his pistoning roll as it churned in and out.
The long, thin chain rattled and shook with every jolting thrust, every heaving, jerking movement of my abused body, and even the chafing of my breasts against the bed covers was a form of sexual stimulation. All the time I was acutely conscious of giggling and obnoxious comments, particularly Celia's harsh, jarring voice. I could not see Diane. I must have hurt her more than I had suspected. The thought brought savage elation.
At first I just lay there and submitted, longing for it to finish. But presently the internal upheaval produced increasingly pleasant sensations, tense little thrills and clutching pangs which, merging with and eventually dominating the squalidness of what I was reluctantly participating in, quickly motivated-perhaps subconsciously-a meek, tentative response that ultimately grew into desperate and intensely compelling emotion, burning torment, throbbing, exquisite yet frightening in its rushing violence, clawing at my organs and seeking release, some outlet, and finally finding it when my aching, convulsed vagina was suddenly saturated with cloying moisture-the first, actual, complete orgasm I had ever experienced.
As I lay gasping, shocked by my conduct and cowardly acquiescence to carnal subjugation and utter degradation, trembling, hating my connivance but shuddering in the hot flush of palpitating reaction, the panting youth laboring between my thighs and buttocks uttered a hoarse shout and released the spurting flood of his ropey sperm in a series of prolonged, pumping strokes that filled the quivering, itching channel right to the entrance of my womb.
Tony relaxed, withdrew. I squirmed away from him and was assisted off the bed by Eddie and Phil. Red faced, Tony sat up.
"Cut!" he instructed. "Print that, Phil. She's a sweet shag when she puts her mind to it, our little Pamela. Full of surprises. I guess that about wraps it up."
"Wait!" Diane called from the outer doorway. She entered, holding an enormous Alsatian dog by its studded collar. I had often heard a dog barking but had never actually seen the animal. I was afraid of dogs, especially Alsatians. I backed away.
"Keep that camera rolling," Diane said. "I've thought of a finale that will make Cohen fling his arms around your neck and weep tears of delight, Tony. Scene ten, take one, Pamela darling. Subject: rich man's pampered pet fucked by dog. You dig the idea, Tony?"
"It's an idea. You think Baron would screw her?"
"Just watch him. He's randy as you are. Eddie, you and Phil get her over to that low stool and hold her down. You help, Celia. We want to make this good."
Suddenly realizing the enormity of what she was proposing, I cringed, pale and tense with horror, shook my head.
"No!" I croaked. "NO! You CANT! You WOULDN'T!"
"Shut up, you fat cow! Come on, Tony. What's bugging you, lover?"
"Nothing, kitten. Just surprised, I suppose. You're a louse, Diane."
"That's what makes me so attractive, darling. Since when did you develop scruples? Are we going to do it or not?"
"Sure. Why not?"
Eddie grabbed me. Phil and Celia added their clutching strength. I struggled furiously. Lank hair framed my reddened face. I urinated with fear.
"You bastard!" I shrieked. "You rotten, filthy bastard! You promised! YOU PROMISED! Oh, please! PLEASE!"
"I only said maybe, kid. Besides, this is different. It should be good, gang. Wish I'd thought of it. Okay for film, Phil?"
"Enough for this, I guess."
"Make sure, and keep it on automatic. Get with it, Diane. It's your show. How do you want it set up?"
"Hold her belly down across that oblong stool. Baron won't need any prompting. Look at him sniffing. He can smell the spunk dribbling from her hot little minge. He won't waste any time."
"All right, let him go and see what he does."
I started to cry. The blackness of despair crowded in again. But my appeals were ignored. Wrenching and pleading, I was dragged to the stool and forced to adopt a ludicrous squatting posture over it. My legs were jerked from under me and held wide apart. With the stool gouging into my soft stomach, both arms stretched out and my ankles gripped I could only squirm and rave helplessly.
Tony focused the camera. Diane released the panting, straining dog, and I cried out when its clammy muzzle nosed immediately into the sperm-filled recess between my twitching thighs. Whining, the eager animal sniffed my vagina avidly, then licked it and laved his long, rough tongue all over my elevated bottom, wetting the cleft and smelling my anus.
Eventually he reared up and attempted to mount me like a bitch, pawing at my back and hips. I tried to close my ears to the coarse, excited laughter and crude remarks indicating the size and redness of the dog's rigidly protruding penis. There was more disgusting comment when the pointed, quivering cock stabbed repeatedly into the folds of flesh all round my cringing vagina and finally found the wet slit, sinking in positively without the slightest friction or restriction.
The frantic creature shagged furiously, butting astonishingly deep into the slimy fissure. His huge paws raked my flesh and his slavering jaws gouged into my back. Hot breath gusted against my skin. The Alsatian secured a hold with both forepaws hooked over my hip bones, and thrashed his brick-red penis into me with panting frenzy while Diane shrieked with mocking laughter.
The whole evil gang was laughing, reveling in my misery. Tony calmly filmed the entire sordid incident, deaf to my impassioned entreaties and gasping cries.
The dog's thin, bony, incredibly long cock intruded further, becoming still harder, a hot, tapering wedge driving ferociously into my squelching cunt. His hind paws rasped on the floor as he strained, jaws gaping, amber eyes glaring, and he moaned like a human as he spunked in the glutinous vent, whimpering and trembling.
He licked the wet cavity, thrust his nose into it. Abruptly he left me, squatted in a corner and sat licking his steaming, elongated penis.
Sobbing convulsively, white with shock and nausea, I was released. I slumped on the floor. The arc-lamps were extinguished. Cans of beer were opened and a noisy discussion began. I was ignored.
Unable to stand the jeers and scornful laughter any longer I clambered up and ran into the bedroom, flopped on the hard, lumpy bed and indulged in another bout of tearful hysterics, wishing I could die with the awful shame and shuddering revulsion racking every nerve and fiber of my body.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The mood passed. My distress was of amazingly short duration. Already the disgusting incident involving the dog was being crowded to the back of my mind and obscured by murderous impulses, chiefly concerning Diane, and seething resentment against Tony. There was also-and this was the most peculiar part of the whole ridiculous business-a feeling of actual sadness, smoldering resentment at his treachery and duplicity. I felt cheated, cruelly deceived, as if, for God's sake, it mattered.
I tried in vain to shake lascivious thoughts that kept encroaching and making a mockery of my inner torment. It was inconceivable that I should be plagued by any sort of emotion concerning Tony Bennett, completely irrational that I should think of him at all with anything except contempt and loathing. Yet I continually lapsed into brooding reminiscence, actually reconstructing and reenacting the whole fantastic interlude I had undergone with him, remembering sordid details with a kind of grudging nostalgia.
Unconsciously, I fondled my breasts, pressing them and pulling the nipples, rolling the dark buds between forefingers and thumbs and eventually interfering with my throbbing vagina, poking my index finger into the warm, wetly lubricated slit and rubbing the fleshy folds, working in toward the sensitive clitoris, until ultimately I experienced those entrancingly delightful sensations again, stronger than before, overriding the mental anguish and excluding the awful feeling of shame and despondency, combining with my stubbornly rebellious attitude and unusually cantankerous disposition to effect a miraculously swift recovery and simultaneously provoking a willful resolve to exploit myself, so that in the dismal privacy of that bedroom prison I abandoned myself to genital stimulation and free expression of fierce emotions I had ignored, either rejecting or despising for so long.
I experimented, trying to prolong the sharp, shivering thrills and obtaining gloating, defiant satisfaction from the elusive pleasure derived, guilty delight shared with nobody. It was an exclusive, wholly voluntary excursion into the hitherto forbidden realm of immorality.
Relief came, cleansing my mind and relaxing my body. Reclining, I smiled wickedly, reveling in the realization of my discovery. I had uncovered the exquisite mystery of sex, sexual expression as a personal thing, beautiful and stimulating, vastly different from the vile, corrupt forms I had experienced since being imprisoned in that derelict farmhouse.
I had been raped and filthily abused, subjected to horrible ordeals. But none of it, apart from the physical pain and mental anguish and sickening disgust, had meant anything. Every despicable act had been committed under compulsion, a bestial conspiracy designed to defile and degrade me.
Well, they had debased me, utterly and completely, but I no longer hated them for it. I was glad. It was as if a great load had been lifted from my mind in the instant of that first orgasmic climax. Now my own latent feelings were aroused, my mind and body attuned, my groping senses emerging into the harsh limelight of brutal reality.
I was normal, tainted like the rest, affected by the same crude impulses and lewd desires and profoundly gratified by the knowledge, and, moreover, although not yet fully aware of the fact, hovering on the brink of a carnal cesspool.
For the first time since my abduction I slept soundly. Celia awakened me around nine-thirty next morning and, after the ritual of the bucket, gave me breakfast, which I devoured with an appetite that surprised everybody including myself.
Afterward, I again requested permission to bathe, and was agreeably surprised when Tony tossed me a bar of delightfully perfumed soap (God! What a luxury!) and told Celia to let me take a plunge in the stream but to watch me closely. Eddie released the long chain from the ringbolt.
I received a further surprise when Tony threw a faded pair of blue jeans at me. They curled around my face and flapped against my breasts. I unwrapped the garment.
"Put those on," he said brusquely. "How the hell can I keep my mind on anything while you're going about bare-assed?"
"I didn't ask to be stripped naked," I retorted spiritedly. "It's a bit late to worry about these now. I'm used to being pawed and stared at."
"You're asking for another smack in the teeth," Tony said aggressively. "Put the jeans on. When that sexy stepmother of yours shows up I don't want-"
"You've contacted Camelia?"
"Yes. There's been a change of plan. I decided it would be best if she came here with the money. I'll meet her at the end of the lane."
I exhaled loudly. One day more, then freedom. I should have been tremendously excited, but I wasn't.
I put the jeans on. They were baggy and much too long, but I felt like a queen as I walked beside Celia to the shallow stream at the end of a narrow path overgrown with giant nettles. Brick came, too, holding the jingling chain looped over his sinewy arm. For a quarter of an hour I splashed and wallowed in the warm water, covered in glorious lather.
Then, again wearing the jeans, feeling refreshed and invigorated, I accompanied Celia and the others back to the house, and was told to sit on the low davenport in the lounge where a glass-beaded screen had been erected and Phil was preparing to project the films shot during the past few days. I would have preferred not to watch but Tony insisted. He stood beside me, and as the preparations neared completion my reluctance yielded to a tense excitement. My pulse beat faster.
The windows were draped. In the semidarkness I waited with acutely mixed feelings. Phil started the projector. Everything shown was in glorious color, and despite the shocking lewdness and disgusting details captured so vividly I watched in morbid fascination, completely absorbed, unable to look away.
When scenes in which I had participated were screened I blushed crimson with shame and embarrassment, but shared the general tense excitement, and instead of being nauseated I was powerfully stimulated, uncontrollably aroused, seeing myself in a completely different light and studying my horrible grimaces and changing expressions, reactions which acted like an aphrodisiac.
When Eddie and the Negro, both tremendously provoked, exposed their genital organs and commenced masturbating the only effect on me was increased tension and sexual excitement so intense I could hardly suppress it.
Diane and Celia also fingered their sexual parts. My eyes were sufficiently accustomed to the gloom to observe every movement. Glancing at Tony I detected an enormous bulge created by his stiffening penis. An unlighted cigarette drooped from his thin lips.
The laughter and uncouth remarks did not bother me now. I remained comparatively unperturbed. During the past few hours I had developed some sort of defensive armor, a thick-skinned indifference. When Phil showed the "gorilla" sketch I even found Celia's amusement contagious and I laughed just as boisterously, with equal cynicism, although I still harbored strong resentment against Diane and Tony concerning their collusion with that awful character, Joe Marsh.
My humor provoked Tony to an obscene expression of surprise. I enjoyed his bewilderment.
But when that filthy episode involving the dog was screened I suffered genuine distress and turned my head away. Tony sniggered.
"What's the matter, kitten?" he asked. "I don't hear you laughing now. It's pretty rough, darling, I agree, but right up Darcy Cohen's street. But if you behave yourself I might just cut that bit out."
"Don't do me any favors, you bastard!" I replied heatedly. "Only somebody rotten to the core could inflict anything so sickeningly filthy on a sensitive, frightened girl."
"Blame Diane. She dreamed up the idea."
"And you encouraged her. You're all as bad. But I'm not such a coward as you all seem to believe. I can take it, even if I do yell and scream and piss on myself. You've had my body, Tony Bennett, but you haven't broken my spirit and you never will."
He stared, slowly removed the cigarette from his mouth.
"You've got guts, kid," he admitted. "More than I gave you credit for. I've been watching your face, darling, in the light from the projector. I do believe you actually enjoyed the show, or at least parts of it. Am I right?"
I started to voice angry denial, then realized he spoke the truth. I was affected, trembling, torn by fiercely conflicting emotions and desires formerly alien to my nature, not merely interested but at times gripped by an ecstatically salacious hunger that not even the sordid display featuring fornication with the dog diminished.
Some of the scenes were screened again. I forgot all about being a prisoner, the squalor and degradation. The tension building up inside me was becoming unbearable. I imagined myself, not a captive but one of the gang, taking an active part in everything, playing the leading role in some monstrous charade. I shifted about, squirming, restless, and suddenly, during a repetition of the scene where Tony had intercourse with me on the bed while lying on his back, the seething cauldron of suppressed sexual impulses finally boiled over.
In those few moments of vital, violently tearing ecstasy, as I swept on the tide of consuming passion and understanding, my contempt for Tony evaporated completely and was replaced by a kind of dog-like devotion-the blind hero-worship of a chronically impressionable girl for someone who, however rotten and evil, had become her idol.
I could not explain it. I did not even attempt to, or to justify it. I only knew it was so. In that brief period of transition I had become the absolute sexual slave of a man, himself hardly more than a teen-ager, whom I had thought the despicable object of overpowering hatred.
Overcome by sensuality, racked by deliciously wanton urges, inexplicable, irrepressible forces, finally released from conventional bondage and plunged headlong into the swirling vat of realism and carnal necessity, I abandoned all pretense and embraced the awakening to truth.
I no longer felt shame, had neither inhibitions nor moral scruples. I was conscious only of the burning, rapturous impulses tormenting my palpitating vagina, churning my insides, of knowing that I wanted Tony's enormously erect penis inside me again, wanted to feel its massive intrusion displacing my tender cunt and to feel strong fingers probing my bottom, clutching and squeezing, the urgent prodding of an avid nose sniffing eagerly around my anus. Pagan, utterly immoral thoughts-the almost demented capitulation of wilting flesh writhing in the throes of erotic fantasy, the total surrender of a mind subconsciously stored with an abundant inheritance of simmering passion and burdened with guilty desire.
I uttered a wild, startling cry, nipped my thighs together, compressing my vagina. Then, unable to resist the shattering impulses, I sought relief in the most obvious direction and deliberately ripped Tony's fly undone.
His penis soared, lifting, jutting imperiously, and I grasped it without the slightest distaste or hesitation, without a trace of regret for my impetuous action, squeezed strongly, shook the ponderous roll, pulled it, clutching, stretching, forced the foreskin back and let the thick, tumid prick throb against my wrist and forearm while I thrust my hand right down among the curling black hair and closed my fingers around the wrinkled bag enclosing Tony's balls.
Recovering quickly from his astonishment, he turned toward me and held his fly flaps open, swore when I lunged forward and, squatting on the extreme edge of the sofa, took the swollen glans of his bloating penis into my mouth and sucked voraciously with desperate haste as if afraid the perverted inclination would leave me. The fierce longing as I sucked was combined with stubborn determination and lascivious delight while at the back of my mind twinges of conscience and spasms of revulsion kept recurring.
Somebody jerked the drapes aside, admitting glaring daylight, critical and revealing. Tony gaped in blank amazement, then a smirk replaced the vacant expression and he responded ardently, grabbed my head and, pulling my face into his groin, forced his surging penis right into my wet, clinging mouth.
Diane and Celia stared in wide-eyed astonishment. The others, their pricks masturbated to grossly distended dimensions, watched incredulously as I sucked and slavered, clinging tightly to that jerking, undulating branch and rapidly writhing my lips up and down it whenever Tony released his passionate grasp on my skull.
"She's flipped!" Phil declared. "Completely bugged, like she's stinking high on pot. But that's crazy."
"Where would she get the stuff?" Eddie demanded. "Not from any of us."
"She's frothing at the gills, man," Brick declared, grinning. "But it sure isn't anything she's taken. The kid's just got the message, that's all. Maybe seeing herself on film has scattered her marbles. Who cares? She's having herself a time, but I don't see why she should have all the fun. Get hold of this, Celia, honey. Cohen is going to sit up and howl when he sees these, Tony."
Tony was too preoccupied to answer. Diane wasn't.
"The little bitch!" she spat venomously. "You jealous then?" Brick taunted her. He laughed.
Obsessed with the urgency of my need I pulled my Face away from Tony's loins, escaping the grasp of his hands, jumped up from the davenport and swiftly pushed the jeans right down and kicked them off, then turned and presented my bottom to him. Stooping, I reached between my parted legs and captured his glistening penis, conveyed it to my moist split, and moaned in exuberant, hysterical delight as he rammed in and, instantly responding to my mood, plunged his great stalk to the extreme depths of my quim.
I writhed back onto the screwing length and thrashed about wildly as Tony commenced a rapid fucking action so batteringly violent that the fury of each strenuous lunge thrust me bodily forward until my knees banged against the low stool I had good cause to remember, and I rested the palms of my hands on it, oblivious of its earlier use in my desperate excitement.
My sexual frenzy and Tony's vigorous reciprocation provoked the others beyond mere masturbation. Brick made a pass at Celia but Phil reached her first and hustled her across the room into a shadowy corner where she quickly removed her jeans and adopted a similar position to mine. Eddie followed them, and they ended up with Phil shagging Celia from behind while she sucked Eddie's fat penis.
Brick, frustrated and scowling, then approached Diane, but she was in a vile temper and abused him foully. Shrugging, pretending to be unconcerned, he moved back and lounged against the wall, masturbating languidly. Meanwhile Tony was burying the entire churning length of his formidable roll with every torrid, grunting thrust, holding the fronts of my thighs and sheathing his slippery prick with powerful, lunging strokes, bereft of all control, withdrawing to the extreme opening of my sweating, quivering vagina, pausing very briefly, then surging in again with renewed vigor.
Each time he pushed I protruded my bottom, anticipating his movement, then tightened my buttocks and nipped my thighs together so that the resulting constriction of my hot, clammy cunt gripped his longing shaft convulsively.
I was learning. My God, how I was learning. I heaved and strained and panted, squirming, farting, gasping, sighing-and all the time that delirious feeling in my sexual parts grew and was intensified until a great knot of flaming sensation was concentrated in the searing vaginal passage and around the reddened, elongated finger of my stiffly erect clitoris.
Brick, not easily discouraged, tried again, several times, to engage in sex with Diane, but she seemed in a stupor, numbed, virtually petrified, completely demoralized by the spectacle of supposedly frigid Pamela, the despised, weak, and formerly whimpering, terrified captive surrendering willingly to Tony, encouraging him and actually cooperating.
Tony, without understanding the reasons for my abrupt transformation, was quick to appreciate the potential significance of it and fornicated with increasing ardor, eventually breaking my clutching grasp on the stool and separating me from it, then jolting and heaving me all around the limited floor space until he finally got me pinned up against the larger table and thrashed his monstrous club of a penis relentlessly into my vitals, skewering the broad tip continually to the inflamed extremities of my squashy, dragging vagina and groaning repeatedly in the sweet agony of shuddering ejaculation as his rising sperm load flooded my ravaged split and squirted right up inside.
In that same ecstatic moment I achieved copious orgasm and all the strength temporarily drained from my limbs so that I almost collapsed. I clung to the table while the raging tumult flaying my organs gradually diminished and the ringing in my head ceased. Pungent-smelling semen, leaking from my swollen vagina as Tony slowly withdrew his prong, puddled on the floor.
The weakness passed. I felt tremendously exhilarated, wonderfully, vitally alive and supremely content. But almost immediately reaction brought bitter remorse and shameful realization of what I had done. In yielding to base motives I had made myself as cheap and vile as my captors, even worse, because they were probably steeped in filth and iniquity from childhood whereas I came to them pure in mind and body and I had allowed their poisonous influence to corrupt me. Now I was-what?
Again my mood changed, became defiant. To hell with all that, I thought. I had grown up during the past twenty-four hours and there was no turning back. The others were right-sex was fun. Why should I be ashamed of discovering that I got a kick out of it too?
As Tony moved aside the young Negro grabbed me and threw me on the boards. He sprawled across my body, trying to mount me, huge black hands groping for my wet slit. But my immediate sexual craving was gone and the stifling contact merely irritated and sickened me. Resisting strongly, I managed to throw Brick off. He promptly rolled over, got to his feet and assaulted Diane again.
They rolled together on the dusty floor, bumping into furniture and crates, and finally came up against the end of the davenport with Diane flat on her back and Brick crouched astride her chest with his cock whipping around her face. Sexually aroused by the wrestling and repeated sight of and contact with that satiny smooth organ, Diane resigned herself to the inevitable and impulsively took several inches of straining black prick into her mouth.
But her mind was obviously preoccupied. Her oral stimulation was impatient and disinterested, and in her haste she contributed to the defeat of her own sexual satisfaction. The moment Brick released a furious gush of thick sperm Diane pushed him away irritably and wriggled from under him. She spat out the slimy mouthful, wiped her lips, watching Tony all the time and glowering at me.
Tony, shaking clinging semen droplets from his drooping penis, regarded me with respect and admiration.
"I never knew you had it in you, baby," he praised. "You're full of surprises, Pamela. A real gasser. I don't know what's suddenly gotten into you, kid, but I like whatever it is."
"I can't explain," I said. "All I know is I seem to see everything quite differently now. I enjoyed what we just did, Tony. I actually enjoyed it. And I couldn't care less what happens to me now or if you ask Father for twenty thousand, or fifty. I simply don't care about anything-except you. I think you're-wonderful, Tony."
I said it, and I meant it, such is the fickle feminine disposition. I knew I should hate him but I could not help myself, could not smother the lustful adoration dominating my weak flesh and conflicting emotions.
I picked up the crumpled jeans and started to put them on, turned instinctively as Diane, wrenching free from Brick's restraining hand, darted toward me and, drawing her arm back, delivered a stinging slap across my face.
"Take that, you conniving little cow!" she snapped. "I can see through your dirty game, but it won't work."
"Leave her alone, you jealous bitch!" Tony ordered curtly.
"Like hell I will! Can't you see what she's trying to do? I'll smash her-"
"I said to leave her alone. You suddenly gone hard of hearing or something? Lay off."
Diane's eyes narrowed. She glared at him, then at me.
"You know what I think?" Celia said, disengaging herself from Phil. "I think you're falling for the spoiled brat, Tony."
Tony sneered. He slicked his hair back.
"You're crazy!" he jeered. "Me, going overboard for her? That's a laugh. But I'll tell you something kitten-our Pamela is all right, a better fuck than either of you when she really tried, and believe me, she was trying."
"Why, you conceited bastard!" Diane shouted. "You dare to compare that fat mouse with me?"
Tony's smirk faded.
"Dare, you skinny whore!" he rasped. "Watch your goddamned mouth, or you'll be chewing on a knuckle sandwich. What is it with you? You've got no strings on me, baby. Any time you don't like the competition you can get lost."
"And let you split my share of that ten grand, you louse? Sure, you'd like that."
Tony slapped her. Diane yelled, fell over the back of the davenport, broadly displaying her charms, her unfastened jeans sagging below her narrow hips, legs waving wildly. She sprawled on the floor and lay cursing, momentarily confused. Celia helped her up.
"Don't fall out, for God's sake!" Celia protested, appealing to Tony. "What's the matter with you two?"
"It's all her fault," Diane exploded, rubbing her cheek. "I'll kill the flabby cunt!"
Tony tried to grab her as she started toward me again but she eluded him and sprang like a clawing wildcat, wound her slim fingers in my hair and dragged mc down, gouging a bony knee into my groin. Tony would have intervened but Eddie obstructed him.
"Let them sort each other out," the big, ginger-haired youth urged. "It's the only way they'll get the hate out of their systems. I'll give five to one on Diane."
"I'll take a piece of that, man," Brick declared promptly.
"A tenner says Diane knocks the shit out of her," Phil mouthed. Tony pulled a roll of bills from his pants pocket.
"Put your money where your mouth is, Fatso," he told Eddie. "That kid's full of surprises. Maybe she'll come up with another."
Startled by the sudden, painful attack, I voiced anguished protest. Diane, gaining the immediate advantage, got astride my chest and began banging my head on the floor, and for a while I felt too bewildered and dizzy to retaliate. The jeans flapping round her ankles impeded Diane's movements and she jerked them off, then hunched her slender torso forward and tried to pin my arms down.
The sight of her hairy vagina gaping only inches from my face revived memories of hot urine spraying all over me. Recalling this filthy episode, and Diane's instigation of the horribly degrading incident involving the massive Alsatian dog, I responded to a rush of anger that endowed me with supernatural strength and, thrashing about in demonical fury, flung the skinny blonde off.
Clutching and grappling, I wrestled her down and pounded my full weight on her belly, then grabbed her hair and gave her the same treatment she had been handing out, banging her head on the floor until her eyes brimmed with tears and she sobbed with pain and frustration.
I let go, but I wasn't through. I slapped her face repeatedly, using both hands, lost my balance and toppled sideways when she heaved up desperately. Diane was wiry and stronger than she looked, but I was heavier, and in my blazing temper quickly subdued her again.
We rolled all over the place for a while, punching and grabbing, panting, but I soon got the upper hand and we ended up with Diane lying on her stomach near the sofa and me sitting on her shoulder blades, flattening her breasts against the boards and dragging her head right back with the grip of my left hand wound into her hair. Then, while she kicked her legs and yelled helplessly I twisted around and, with my other hand, paddled the soft, pink-white cheeks of her small, compact bottom, and kept smacking lustily until she squealed and howled and finally pleaded for mercy.
I allowed her to turn over, but immediately knelt on her outstretched arms and sat on her squashed breasts, driving the breath from her lungs. Staring down into her flushed features, I gloated.
"Now, you vindictive tramp," I panted triumphantly. "That was for what you encouraged that bloody Alsatian to do. And this is what I still owe you, Diane darling. See how you like it."
Tensing my limbs and compressing my abdomen, I brought my pouting vagina closer, relentlessly lower, and pissed on her sweating, upturned face.
Amid uproarious laughter in which Celia joined I climbed to my feet, leaving Diane floundering and cursing in a pool of hot urine, and walked proudly to where I had dropped the loaned jeans. I pulled them on, fastened the zipper.
As I straightened, Tony offered me a white handkerchief. I dabbed a cut on my swollen lip.
"Start counting, Eddie," he said, grinning. "Too bad we didn't get all that on film. That red hair of yours is for real, kitten. You've got a flaming temper to match it. Like I said, you're full of surprises. I really go for you, Pamela, so much I'm tempted to scrub this whole lousy kidnap deal."
"Are you crazy?" Eddie objected.
"Shut up! I'm still running this show."
"No," I said. "It doesn't matter. My father can afford the money and in a way you've done me a favor. Besides, I want to see Camelia's face when she shows up and I tell her I won't be leaving with her."
Tony did not answer immediately. The others exchanged significant glances. I looked at Tony, unflinching, wondering how it was possible to love and hate somebody at the same time, to despise a person and yet tremble with longing whenever he approached. I knew then that I would do anything for Tony Bennett, that I would always be his sexual slave. I did not even begin to understand it-I only knew it was so.
"If you like me all that much there is one thing you can do for me, Tony," I said. "One small favor."
He regarded me warily. Celia smirked expectantly. Diane had gone outside to wash.
"And what's that?" Tony asked, lighting a cigarette. I eased the padded leather away from my reddened neck.
"Take this fucking collar off," I answered vehemently. "I won't attempt to run away. Not now, Tony. Not ever."
It was around four-thirty in the afternoon when I heard Eddie return from the village on his motorcycle.
I had spent practically the entire night with Tony, or rather he had spent the night with me, in the bedroom, away from the others, with the door closed but not fastened and the bed made really comfortable with plenty of cushions and blankets. We had made love, violently and passionately, several times, and Tony had been surprisingly tender, almost considerate compared to his usual curt, demanding crudeness. Diane, seething inwardly, made no more trouble. She slept with Eddie.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world for me to share my former prison with Tony. He took it for granted and just moved in, and I raised no objection, on the contrary I welcomed his intrusion when, shortly before midnight, the lounge lights were dimmed. I was resting on the bed. The door was wide open and I could have stayed in the lounge with the others but preferred the seclusion of the bedroom. There was no longer any restriction on my movements. I could have walked out any time. After a late supper I left the gang talking, making plans, and went to my room.
That shameful collar and chain had been removed, and I had taken a fiendish delight in hurling the smelly iron bucket as far into the undergrowth by the stream as I could. Celia's attitude was friendly, almost patronizing. Phil was vaguely hostile, Brick cynical, Eddie suspicious. I was indifferent to the whole bunch. Only Tony mattered.
When Eddie entered the lounge he looked sour. He threw a folded newspaper on the table.
"You can forget about Camelia Quincannon bringing the money," he said sullenly. "She won't show up now. Old man Quincannon is dead! Sudden heart attack. It's all there."
Tony swore. He picked up the paper, opened it out, read a few lines before tossing the newspaper toward me. It fell on the floor. I retrieved it, glanced at the headlines, my mind only just beginning to grasp the significance of what Eddie had said.
SUDDEN DEATH OF PROMINENT BUSINESSMAN, I read. SIR CHARLES QUINCANNON FOUND DEAD IN LISBON HOTEL ROOM.
I let the paper flutter to the floor. There was more, a whole column, but I had seen enough. I felt stunned. Althought Father and I had never been very close he had always treated me well, given me everything. Business had meant more to him than his family and I had always blamed him partly for my mother's tragic death. Now he, too, was gone, but I did not feel grief-stricken, merely saddened, and wondered, with a callousness I had never hitherto suspected was associated with my character, how Father's demise would affect my immediate situation.
Tony, in common with the others, studied my reaction.
"It's rough, kitten," he said. "I'm sorry. I mean that."
"We'll never collect a goddamn cent now," Eddie complained.
"We can kiss that money good-bye."
"Fuck the money!" Tony declared recklessly. "Haven't you got any feelings, you fat slob? Pamela's just lost her father."
"So what do you want from me-tears? I should send flowers to the punk?"
"You callous bastard! Get stuffed."
"What happens now?" Phil asked. "You going to let her go, Tony? There doesn't seem much point in holding her any longer, unless we can put pressure on the stepmother, which wouldn't be till after she gets over the shock anyway, and from what I've heard Camelia Quincannon is tighter than a frog's asshole where money is concerned. So why don't we just split from this crazy pad now and-"
"It isn't five-thirty yet," Brick interrupted. "It's just possible that Camelia Quincannon thinks more about the girl than she did that senile old prick. From what you've told us she isn't the sort to sweat blood over her husband's corpse. Let's give her until the deadline. She might phone."
"You're wasting your time," I said. "Camelia hates me. Oh, I'm sure she intended to bring the money to keep up appearances with Father and to avoid scandal. But now he's dead she'll be too busy planning how to spend his millions to bother about me. Poor Father. Everybody took advantage of him. You'd best forget Camelia and the ransom. But don't worry-I've got private means. I feel I owe you all something, education-wise, so don't lose any sleep over a few thousand."
"Listen to her!" Diane exclaimed, sneering. "A few thousand, she says, with such-"
"Shut up!" Tony snapped. "Look, gang, we took a gamble and it didn't come off. Okay, so why don't we just forget the whole thing? We'll make a packet on the films. Pamela's proved she has guts. She's okay, and from now on she pitches in my league, if that's what she wants. She winds up with a sore ass, okay-she's in the groove now, that's for sure, a hell of a lot broader in her mind than she was a week ago, and we've had a good giggle besides shagging ourselves out. So what the hell? Listen, Pamela. I know you've said a lot of impulsive things, especially last night. But I won't hold you to any of it the way things are now. You're free to walk out of that door any time you feel like it."
I remained seated. Celia had loaned me a yellow cashmere sweater. I still wore the loose jeans. Diane had maliciously destroyed my own clothing, all except my shoes. I did not bother to put them on.
I made no attempt to get off the davenport. "I said you can leave," Tony repeated. "Get lost, kid."
"I heard you," I answered. "I'm not going."
"You're not? Why, for Christ's sake? Oh, I get it. But, look, darling, everything is different now. You don't seem to understand. You think Camelia will get her hooks on the old man's money, but I'm telling you he was wise to her two-timing him with that Merton creep and a lot of other characters. Camelia's cock-hungry, and I should know. I used to hear her and the old man quarreling, slanging each other something fierce. I wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't cut the cow out of his will altogether, but even if he was fool enough to let his prick rule his pride she won't get it all. He thought a lot of you, kid. You'll inherit at least part of the estate, enough to make you rich."
"That isn't important."
"It isn't? Now I know you're flipped."
"No. I already told you, my mother left me a fortune. I'm already extremely wealthy, I suppose. Money never concerned me very much. I've always had plenty. The house is mine, too. But I hate the dreary place, and I loathe Camelia. I don't want to go back home. I want to stay with you, Tony. With you and the gang."
"You are crazy! Raving. After everything we've done to you, shagging you raggy-asscd and humiliating you, leading you round on a chain like a naked monkey and-"
"None of that matters now. You're a bastard, Tony, a vicious moron. I know that, but it doesn't make any difference. If you send me away I'll go to the police. You've got to let me stay. Maybe I am insane, but that's what I want. I-I love you, Tony. You can't send me away. I've never been anywhere or seen anything worthwhile. I crave excitement, all kinds, and I've got so much to give, Tony. I'm just beginning to live, to understand what it's all about, and I like it. Oh, God, I do! Don't send me away. Please!"
"Eventually," I continued quickly, "I suppose I will occupy the house, after Camelia leaves and I've had the place brightened up. But you'll be welcome any time, all of you, even you, Diane.
You could stay as long as you wished."
"Don't do me any favors," Diane replied sullenly.
"Suit yourself," I said, shrugging. "I don't bear malice, Diane. There's no reason why we can't be friends. I'm willing to forget what's happened if you will."
"You've got a fucking nerve," she declared. "You think you can move in on my man, you little cocksucker, and then soften me up with a lousy handout. We don't need anything you've got, so why don't you bugger off back to that great big stinking house and-"
"Speak for yourself," Phil broke in. "I don't go much for promises-I'd rather have my split of that ten thousand. But you're okay, Pamela. You've got a screwy way of looking at things but you're okay."
"Why worry about a lousy ten grand?" Diane argued, sneering. "If Tony sticks close enough to that fat twat he'll wind up with every dime she's got, and maybe he'll remember his friends."
Tony scowled. He raised his hand as if to strike Diane, then looked around when sounds of an approaching car became distinctly audible. The dog chained in the barn commenced a furious barking. The gang exchanged apprehensive glances. Tony, agile as an ape, climbed to the roof beam. He shaded his eyes, clung with one arm around the flaky wood.
"Relax!" he shouted. "It's her! It's Camelia, and right on time."
He jumped down, brushed dust from his clothing.
"Maybe she doesn't know about the old man yet," Eddie suggested. "Anyway, I thought you were supposed to meet her at the end of the lane. How did she find her way up here?"
"I gave her directions, stupid, in case she couldn't make it on time. Let me do the talking. Pamela, you stay out of sight until I call you. Okay?"
Tony went outside. The others followed closely. Watching from the window I saw a gleaming Rolls-Royce emerge from the dense shrubbery and glide noiselessly to a stop a few yards from the front of the farmhouse. Expecting to see Clive Merton, wearing a chauffeur's uniform, behind the wheel, I was surprised to see Camelia driving.
She opened the door, got out, displaying meaty calves and plump thighs. A smart, tight-fitting white skirt and pale-blue blouse emphasized the voluptuousness of her sexy figure. The gang surrounded her. She was subjected to a lecherous scrutiny. Eddie whistled appreciatively. My stepmother stared at Tony. Some of the color left her disdainful face.
"YOU!" I heard her exclaim. "So you're the mastermind behind this ludicrous extortion attempt. And this is the terrible gang who is holding Pamela-a bunch of teen-age fuckoffs. My God! I don't know what this country is coming to."
"You cheeky cow!" Celia blurted, starting forward. Tony waved her back.
"Did you bring the money?" he asked. Camelia nodded impatiently. She reached into the car and brought out a small but bulging briefcase.
"I suppose you know Pamela's father is dead?" she asked. Tony nodded. He held out his hand for the briefcase, but Camelia jerked it back out of reach.
"Where is the wretched girl?" she demanded. "Until I see her you don't get a penny."
"She's okay," Tony said. "Don't act so tough, Camelia. I know you too well to be impressed, or have you forgotten?"
He laughed, winked at Phil.
"We didn't think you'd show up under the circumstances," he told Camelia. She appraised him scornfully.
"I didn't come here to discuss my private affairs with a bunch of long-haired louts," she answered scathingly. "If I had any sense I wouldn't be here at all."
Despite her bland statement, she kept talking, and Tony encouraged her, artfully prompting her until, provoked into resentful discussion, she got herself all worked up and blurted out wholly personal details, answering Tony's shrewd questions with callous indifference.
Listening intently, becoming more and more angry, I heard her maligning my father, frankly admitting that she was glad he was dead and how pleased she would be to see the last of me. I was to be sent to stay with a particularly strict maiden aunt pending settlement of the estate.
Eventually she realized the derisively grinning gang was mocking her, deliberately luring her into indiscretions, and she clammed up. I saw Tony make a swift grab and snatch the briefcase. He opened it, grinned, then called loudly to me.
I went outside, stood barefoot, hands on hips, my breasts jutting proudly, the nipples, which had become permanently enlarged in just those few crowded days, showing prominently against the soft cashmere. The waist of the jeans was pushed low on my hips, exposing most of my rounded belly and the apex of the reddish triangle where clipped hair was beginning to sprout again. I confronted Camelia insolently.
She stared foolishly, Her eyes narrowed. Suspicion clouded her hostile expression, deepening her frown. Then, realizing that I must have overheard everything she had been tricked into saying, she swore luridly. Her cheeks assumed a dirty putty color.
"Keep talking, stepmother," I said bitterly. "You unscrupulous bitch! I always knew you were no good."
She ignored my remarks.
"What is this?" she demanded. "Some sort of trick, you bastards? I thought you were being held against your will, Pamela. Now I find you brazenly consorting with these misfits. If you've been a party to deception aimed at deliberate extortion-if you've been aiding and abetting these louts, I'll go straight to the police and-"
"Shut your fucking mouth!" Tony shouted. I laughed. Camelia gaped. Her astonishment was ludicrous.
"I'm not a prisoner any more," I said. "You've had a trip for nothing, Camelia. I'm not going home, at least not while you're living in that house, my house, darling stepmother. Now that Father is dead there's nothing to keep you at Quincannon Lodge once the estate has been settled. His passing is a terrible shock, of course. I shall miss him. But I'm not a deceitful hypocrite like you. I won't pretend what I don't feel. Father was almost a stranger to me, benevolent and extremely generous but virtually a stranger. As for the money you've given Tony, I've more right to it than you have, and I intend to help him spend it. And when it's gone there's plenty more."
"So that's it. Now it's Tony, you little whore! Do you really think you can get away with this?"
"Why not?" Tony asked. "It wouldn't do any good going to the police, darling. Your only witness won't talk."
He regarded her with lewd interest, moistened his lips.
"You haven't changed much," he said, "Put on a little weight, maybe. Still sucking up to that shit-stabbing Merton? I've often thought about you, Mrs. Quincannon, and I hate to think of you coming all this way on a wasted trip. Perhaps we can make your journey worthwhile, eh, gang? Add a little interest, and flavor. We may be long-haired louts, darling, but we're all a bit longer than average in the prick, too, and you should remember mine, sweetheart-you played with it and sucked on it often enough when I worked for the old man. I never did actually get you into bed, did I? I wasn't good enough to screw the elite Camelia Quincannon, but you didn't object to a whank. All right, suppose we rectify that omission, right now? You're pretty good with fancy words, darling. Let's see how good you are at the end of a stiff prick. Get her inside."
Camelia gasped, seemingly incapable of speech-until the smirking youths laid hands on her, then she screamed and raved and struggled with desperate, quite futile fury. I knew just how she felt, and I reveled in every twisting contortion of her luscious body.
She kept up a continual flow of profane, obscene invective, and was still shrieking hysterically when the heavy door closed and muffled her cries.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tony tipped out the contents of the briefcase on the table. He sorted wads of bills, checked the amounts. Old money, most of it, all in packets of one hundred. He scooped the whole heap back into the briefcase.
"This," he remarked, "will buy a lot of booze and enough of the other stuff to keep us all high as kites until they invent something better, besides one hell of a lot of groceries. We're in the chips, and there's more to come. Too bad it's your money, Pam, at least we can assume it is until your old man's will is read. But it's only a drop in the bucket to what he-"
"Please!" I protested. "Don't mention buckets to me. It's a sore topic with me, and with Eddie."
I laughed. Eddie didn't.
"I don't care about the money," I assured Tony. "Honestly. It doesn't matter."
"Why should it?" Diane asked sarcastically. "With a few million in the bank, what's ten grand?"
I ignored her and joined Eddie, Phil, and Brick, who had Camelia on the large bed used in the film scenes and were gleefully removing her clothing. Tony did not take part, but I knew he would eventually. For a while Camelia sobbed and pleaded and maintained a pretense of anger and sullen indignation, but she was not even protesting now. Once she realized that no physical harm was intended, merely sex, she quickly shed her scruples along with her clothing and soon entered into the lewd spirit of the escapade, actively cooperating, laughing and squealing and clutching at the genital organs bared for her supposed distress, and using language as foul if not worse than that adopted by the youths.
Quickly recognizing the lascivious disposition of the tremendously attractive woman and the lewdness of her nature, they were soon dominated completely by her sensual personality and mature experience, and Camelia, having got over her initial fright, was in her element.
She reveled in the crude exchange, basking in the carnal power she wielded over three virile young males, abandoning herself completely to lust, as savagely aroused, and equally libidinous, as any of the sniggering trio.
Camelia was an insatiable whore. She preferred younger men, and her wide circle of acquaintances included numerous lovers only half her age, some of whom, handsome, mostly Continental types, all abnormally sexed and chosen for their virility and the size of their cocks, she paid well and showered with expensive gifts. But they had to have the right background and come from the right stock. Anybody like Tony Bennett she was perfectly willing to make use of, a convenience, but only to the extent of a cheap thrill, and in normal circumstances she would not have entertained him or his friends.
But now, the lingering fear of what they might do if she offered further resistance motivated acquiescence, and once her feelings were aroused she could not stop. As apprehension yielded to passion she entered readily into the wanton charade and was quickly engulfed in the seething cauldron of desire.
The three eager youths had their pricks out and were jostling around her like dogs after a bitch. Eventually naked except for stockings and garter belt, Camelia lay on her right side with fat thighs wide apart and her left leg raised so that her great, hairy twat was fully exposed, and played with Phil's fleshy penis while Eddie fucked her laughing mouth and the Negro, sprawled with his sweat-gleaming face in the cleft of her deliciously mature, sweetly rounded bottom, held the gorgeous cheeks away from her lage brown anus and repeatedly tongued the twitching hole which, puckering, relaxing, and alternately contracting each time his stabbing tongue probed, gradually protruded until Brick's thick lips were able to gather in the pouting rim and suck it.
The scene was not altogether what I had contemplated. Celia sat on the floor, placidly sucking an orange and spitting pips haphazardly at Diane who watched the activity on the bed with bored indifference, or so it seemed to me. Tony smoked, sitting on the edge of the table with one hand on the bulky briefcase and the other rubbing the front of his pants.
I was keenly disappointed. I should have known Camelia would not shrink from mere sexual assault. Details of the time I saw her with Clive Merton were still vivid in my mind. Her voluntary participation robbed the supposed rape of its whole meaning. But at least I could watch while all four youths shagged her, and gloat, enjoying her reactions and the display of uncontrollable debauchery, knowing Camelia was acutely conscious of my mocking presence, that I could see her changing expressions and read the pattern of her thoughts. And my major triumph would come when Tony had her, when I saw his huge prick battering into her flabby quim, for however much she might enjoy it if they were alone, whatever the extent of her ecstatic convulsions in private, I knew the devastating effect an audience must have on her morale, especially when that audience included her own stepdaughter.
When Diane suddenly sat beside me, then embraced me and pulled me down on the davenport, I was astonished, and mildly shocked when she kissed me and put her tongue in my mouth. But I did not object when she inserted her hand through the side fastening of my jeans and groped between my thighs.
With her mouth covering mine, tongue fluttering, she whispered urgent instructions, exhorting me to feel her vagina, which I did, pleased by her inexplicable friendly overture, opening the flap of her jeans to approach her hot, sweaty crotch.
Thus engaged, each rubbing and fingering the other's genitals, kissing and caressing, I saw Eddie shoot his sperm into Camelia's sensual, receptive mouth, holding her head close to his groin and grinding his fat roll right to the back of her throat.
Camelia did not even splutter. She did not spit the semen out either, but licked all around the steaming, reddened knob when it was reluctantly withdrawn. Eddie remained in the same hunched position, squatting on his heel now, his right hip pressing against the top of Phil's head as the handsome blond youth lay facing Camelia. She had a firm grasp of Phil's thick, hard penis and was whanking it furiously.
Brick, meanwhile, had adopted a different position and lay on his right side with his face pressed against Camelia's back and his monstrous black prick seeking her quim as she lifted her left leg high again and rested it on Phil's shoulder in the instant that, suddenly confronted with an unrestricted view of her wet, gaping vagina, warm folds of dark, hairy flesh rolling together and then stretching apart as she separated her thighs, Phil spunked on Camelia's heaving belly and then lay grimacing while she squeezed his still grossly inflated organ until the last oozing drop adhering to the distended glans was transferred to her hand and, presently, wiped across her creamy skin.
Brick was stuck well into her, his loins fitting snugly against the ripe curve of her sumptuous bottom, left hand clutching the firm, fleshy globe of her luscious left breast.
And now Tony stood up, slowly unfastened his fly. I felt insanely jealous as he moved toward the bed, yet tremendously excited at the prospect of seeing him achieve his ambition to fuck Camelia.
Brick had finished already and was relaxing on his back. Eddie and Phil had abandoned Camelia and were mauling the sniggering girls.
Tony stopped near the bed and dropped his jeans, stepped out of them, stood fingering his penis. His erection was colossal, frightening in its throbbing, swollen rigidity. Sitting up, Camelia watched him, her full lips parted in a lustful smile, nostrils flared. She extended her supple arms toward him invitingly, whispered his name.
"I've had the boys," she said huskily. "Now I'm ready for the man: You think you're capable of satisfying a real woman, Tony? Well, I'm waiting, honey. This is what you wanted, darling. Let's see just how good you really are."
She drew her knees up until they touched her proudly jutting breasts and indented the quivering mounds, wantonly revealing the capacious maw of her reddened split, and I heard Tony groan as he lowered himself onto her and her arms embraced him fiercely. I saw her take hold of his penis and feverishly push the tautly stretched knob into her avidly challenging quim.
Tony lunged, and Camelia cried out sharply, already regretting her taunts. She writhed up to cushion his cruelly impaling thrust, bracing herself against the impassioned fury of his ruthless assault.
Diane's skillful manipulation was rapidly working me up into a sexual frenzy and I was on the verge of a powerful climax. Diane kept moaning softly. Her eyes were smoky. I rubbed her vagina patiently but never removed my longing gaze from Tony, hating Camelia as he fucked her with convulsive, heaving strokes that continually forced her knees into the distorted mounds of her luscious breasts and restricted her heavy breathing to rapid, jerky gasps.
Her face was beet red with effort and congestion. Every absorbing detail of that tremendous, abnormal cock slogging into her hot, clutching channel was luridly emphasized.
In my vindictive condemnation of Camelia I hoped Tony would come before she satisfied her lust. I wanted her to be left frustrated. When Tony's muscular body arched and his limbs tensed, straining, and Camelia clung to him wildly, blurting hoarse, vulgar entreaties, I knew that I was getting my wish and that Tony was filling her great cow's cunt.
I broke away from Diane abruptly and rushed forward, pushed vigorously on Tony's taut, tightly pinched buttocks, forcing his draining cock deeper in an attempt to hasten orgasm and deny Camelia the opportunity to prolong the act. She tried to hold him inside her, but he quickly thrust himself to the full extent of his arms and squirmed away from her, then sprang lithely off the bed, on the opposite side of me.
Diane reached him before I could skate round the end of the bed. She was in a shocking state of almost demented sexual excitement and grabbed desperately at Tony's still bloated prick, frantically offering herself to him and squealing with triumphant delight when he quickly bent her over and thrashed his tumid organ into her with brutal ferocity.
His virility was astonishing. Instead of slackening, his cock remained swollen to maximum erection, its circumference undiminished, becoming still more hugely expanded as he screwed it savagely into the blonde's dragging split.
But after only a few impatiently belligerent thrusts he suddenly withdrew and, ignoring Diane's moaning, cursing appeals, looking inquiringly at me.
The meaningful glance conveyed an unspoken command. Elated, I darted around the bed. My need was no less than Diane's. I went down on my knees and clasped trembling fingers around Tony's tremendous branch, swiftly lowered my head. The desire to take that stiffly imposing, fascinating prick into my mouth exploded in a panting delirium of pre-orgasmic feeling that goaded me beyond endurance, plunging me into the abysmal depths of sexual fantasy and irresistible debauchery.
Impatiently I captured the pulsing, spatulate glans and forced it past my abnormally distended lips into the warm, avid cavern of my mouth, then sucked its spongy mass, licked and bit the swollen, throbbing hugeness of that torridly beating shaft, cradling Tony's tightly puckered balls against the palm of one hand and energetically whanking his jerking, pugnaciously rampant prick with the other, holding it right down near the thick base and squirming in the divinely rapturous throes of rapidly encroaching orgasm, longing for that stiff prick between my tightly compressed thighs but reluctant to relinquish it, sucking and stroking, squeezing, rolling my tongue round the straining knob, coaxing the hot flood of rising sperm along the near-bursting organ and feeling the violent, rippling impulses travel through the shuddering roll to the splayed, pounding tip and, as it spurted furiously, catching it in my mouth.
The gushing, cloudy emission spattered the back of my throat, coated my tongue and puddled behind my teeth. Milky drops squeezed past my writhing, distorted lips and oozed down my chin, warmly glutinous. Its strong, sexy male odor and uniquely ruttish taste inflamed my raging senses, prompting another orgasm, and I continued to lick and suck, swallowing with difficulty, gulping noisily regardless of slimy semen sliding down my throat. In that supremely depraved moment of truth I was wholly carnal, utterly wanton, a lusting animal obsessed with devastatingly primitive passions, lost in the swirling mists of tempestuous emotion, my whole body screaming for sex and the need to express it obscenely and shockingly.
I gloried in self-debasement, and only relinquished that dribbling symbol of churning ecstasy very reluctantly when its intruding mass threatened to suffocate me.
Camelia, fingering her vagina, masturbating urgently, her lovely face twisted with frowning frustration as she strove to release the fires tearing and raging inside her hot quim, watched me with a look of acute astonishment and brooding malevolence mirrored in her dark eyes, and a hint of cynical amusement, until Eddie, whose penis was again in a state of partial erection, grabbed her, pushed her down, turned her over, and attempted to fuck her anus but spunked in the crease of her broad superlative bottom while he was still fumbling, ramming his knob futilely at the stubbornly resisting aperture while Camelia thrashed about and voiced irritable protest, and finally twisted around, grasped the butting penis and directed it into her moist vagina.
"If you must fuck something, fuck that," she mouthed savagely. "I'm burning up. For God's sake finish me off. Here, I'll make it easy for you."
She heaved up to a kneeling posture and rested her elbows on the bed, opened her thighs wide and looked round, moaned at the sight of Eddie's questing penis. He groped below the gorgeous protrusion of her buttocks and clutched her hairy gash, pulled and probed until he got his knob entered, then rammed in with unnecessary violence, resentful of being deprived of her asshole.
Camelia sighed happily, crouched lower as he lunged, gasped when his belly smacked forcibly against her bottom and bunched the heavy cheeks.
"Faster!" she urged. "Harder! Ooo! That's it! Make me come. Aaah! It's nearly here. Faster, darling! Ooh! Ooh! God, that's lovely! I'm-coming! I'm-Oooh! At last!"
Camelia, as she got dressed, was unable to meet my direct gaze. She zipped her skirt, eased the blouse away from her breasts. She was no longer in a lecherous, boisterous mood but tight-lipped and scowling.
"Don't frown," Tony told her. "Frowning causes wrinkles, Camelia. What are you looking so sour about, anyway?"
"You should know, you bastard! I feel cheapened and degraded. I wish-"
"You? Do me a favor. You got a kick out of it."
"Did I? Not from your effort, mastermind. I said I needed a man, so what do I get? A boy with a freak's prick. You're no damn good, Tony. All you think about is your own pleasure. You don't know how to satisfy a woman?"
"Think so? Ask Pamela, you pudding-faced whore! I didn't even try with you, darling, you're not all that interesting. I promised myself I'd screw you, Mrs. fucking Quincannon. I didn't do it for your sake, just to even the score. You don't fool anybody. You're sore because you've made an exhibition of yourself in front of Pam, but I didn't hear you complaining. You lapped it up, so why pretend?"
Camelia looked venomous. Then she sighed, nodded.
"You're right, I suppose," she admitted. "That's why I feel so ashamed. I'm not usually prone to regrets. It'll wear off. I think it was the shock of seeing Pamela doing things she didn't even know about a week ago. I can't get over the change in her. I'm-sorry, Tony. What I said just now, I didn't mean it. It could have been rather wonderful."
"Then you're not entertaining any foolish notions about going to the police when you get out of here?"
Camelia shook her head.
"Of course not," she assured him. "I don't exactly admit to being pudding-faced, Tony, but I can't deny I'm as much a whore as I ever was. Any time I shrink from a bit of harmless cock I'll know I'm getting old. Got a cigarette?"
Tony gave her one, lit it. Camelia inhaled, moved sinuously toward the outer door trickling smoke through her nostrils. She opened the door, paused in the entry.
"I won't even raise a stink about the money," she promised. "Although I had a hell of a time raising it. I don't have a private fortune. And, quite frankly, Pamela, I only did it out of regard for your father. You know how I feel about you. For all I care you can stay with these delinquent morons until you end up in jail, or the hospital, probably in some maternity ward. When your father's will is read I expect to find myself amply provided for. If and when you decide to come home I won't be there-I've known for some time the house belongs to you and was never Charles' property. I'll be much happier in London, so we can say good-bye now. I doubt if we'll ever meet again except during the legal, er-"
"Carve-up," Tony prompted. "I might stop by and see you before you leave, Camelia, just to prove you wrong in some of the things you said."
"Do that, Tony. I'd like to be proved wrong. Bring your friends. I'll look forward to it. And, Pamela, for what it's worth-good luck."
I didn't answer, chieftly because I couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. Camelia shrugged. She sauntered toward the Rolls-Royce, buttocks and hips wagging seductively.
We watched her slide behind the wheel and start the motor. The car began to move. Camelia wound the window down, waved. Then the Rolls disappeared beyond the trees.
"Think she will go to the fuzz?" Eddie asked. Tony shook his head.
"Why should she?" he replied. "What could she tell the police? What can she prove? No, she'll go back to that big house and curl up with a good book or watch television or-"
"Or go to bed with the chauffeur," I interrupted.
"Yes, that's more likely, with that cocksucking bastard. Merton. But she'll keep remembering how it was with us."
"Shall you look her up again?" Brick asked. "Man! She isn't a bad shag-for an old woman."
"She's only thirty-five," I protested.
"So? In my book that's real ancient, kid."
"I might stop by in a couple of weeks," Tony said. "After we get back."
"When are we leaving?" Phil queried.
"Tomorrow morning will be soon enough. We'll scoot up to London and unload some of that ten grand, collect from Cohen and then skip over to Paris, just in case Camelia gets careless with her mouth. You ever been to France, Pam?"
"No," I answered, "but I like the idea. It sounds wonderful."
"It's fab," Celia said. "And the food-out of this world."
"Always thinking of your stomach," Tony observed. "You'll soon be bursting right out of them jeans."
Celia made a rude gesture with two stiffened fingers. Tony grinned. He slapped her plump bottom.
"We'll split from her around seven-thirty," he said, "right after breakfast, and be in Soho by nine o'clock. Okay?"
The others nodded in agreement. Tony looked quizzically at me.
"Okay with me," I said, "if you're sure you want me along."
"Would it make any difference if I didn't?"
Tony asked. I shook my head. He drew me close, fondled my bottom through the loose jeans.
"You're invited, kid," he said.
"I hoped you'd want me, Tony," I said, darting a sidelong glance at Diane. She looked as though she had just bitten into a lemon. I dug the knife a little deeper, twisted it, Vindictiveness has a long blade, and that skinny bitch had made me suffer plenty.
"If we're to make a start so soon, suppose you and me go to bed early-lover," I suggested, deliberately poaching Diane's favorite euphemism. "Real early."
"We might just do that," Tony replied.
"And what about me?" Diane demanded truculently. Tony flipped ash from his cigarette.
"You, sweetheart?" he said. "Why, you can slide right in alongside Pamela, and maybe, if you're a good girl, I'll even let you take turns. How's that? Now let's have some food, a steak if there's any left. A man can't fuck on beer and cigarettes, kitten."
It was around eight-thirty in the evening when I stood up, yawned, and stretched. I was not a bit tired, but felt tense and acutely agitated. Since late afternoon the desire for sex had been building up inside me. It seemed that in discovering my latent capacity for sex I had unleashed a monster over which I had absolutely no control. Now, fiercely recurring spasms kept gnawing at me and the mounting urge would not be denied.
I felt stifled, and removed the cashmere sweater, hefted my breasts which, freed from the tight restriction, soared, the nipples jutting impudently. I caressed them, moved to where Tony sat and stood behind his lounge chair. Diane, curled up at his feet, regarded me with burning resentment. "Coming?" I asked.
"Eh?" Tony muttered. "Coming where?"
"To bed, silly. We agreed on an early night, remember?"
"But it's only just after eight-thirty, and I'm not sleepy, kitten."
He eyed my heavy breasts and I saw lust awaken in his smoldering eyes.
"Neither am I," I answered pointedly. "But let's go to bed anyway, huh?"
Tony shrugged. His right hand reached around and clasped the back of my knee, slid quickly up my thigh to where the folds and creases flared into the fullness of my bottom.
I was trembling. If Tony had refused me, if he had not been in the mood, I should have wanted to curl up and die. His hesitation, although brief, frightened me, such was his sexual power over me. Smirking, handsome, he got up from the chair.
"You're calling the shots, kid," he said. "So what are we waiting for?"
I smiled triumphantly at Diane, impervious to her venomous glowering.
"Coming?" I asked, unable to resist a final taunt.
"Get stuffed!" she spat viciously.
"Yes, please-darling," I retaliated, then swore when Tony slapped my bottom sharply.
"You want to fuck, or to argue with her?" he demanded bluntly. "There's one thing you've got to remember, kitten. I don't like being kept waiting."
Smarting, chastened, I preceded Tony into the bedroom.