Maria Carvo awoke that morning with fear. Fear in her stomach, in her limbs, a feeling of disaster that spread from the top of her head to her toes.
"What's the matter, Maria?" asked her roommate, Vicki.
"I'm afraid--that sailor you saw yesterday--was the one my father warned me about," said Maria in a tight voice.
"Forget the sailor! I'm sorry I mentioned it. Forget your father and his wild stories. He's been dead for over a year." Though Vicki sounded angry, it was only to cover her own fears. Maria's father had been a spooky old gent, but not crazy. There was a sense of doom and death about both the Carvos.
"Stay home today," suggested Vicki. "It's raining--a lousy day."
"No," said Maria. "If he's come to Clifton Heights, he'll find me." She went to her bureau, got a small box, handed it to Vicki.
"Vicki, if something--bad--happens today, I want you to have this." It was a brooch of semiprecious stones, an Aztec design that Maria's father had brought up from the wilds of Mexico. Vicki had often admired it.
Vicki tried to push it away. "Oh, Maria, nothing's going to happen." Maria was into her Aztec princess routine, thought Vicki. Of course, the Chicano girl was a princess of beauty. Vicki had never seen such a lovely face or figure as her roommate's. Her regularity of features, her olive-ivory skin were so incredible that people--strangers--often stopped to talk to her just so they'd have an excuse to feast their eyes. Vicki guessed that the eighteen-year-old girl was among the most beautiful in Southern California, movie stars not excepted. Maria had been given the first chair at the beauty salon where she worked, close to the plate glass window. It was a fact that almost everyone who walked by stared at the girl and her beauty.
Now the young virgin dressed in her sleek white nylon uniform as Vicki shivered. Somehow it reminded her of a young virgin preparing herself for some dumb sacrificial rite. Perhaps Maria felt this too, because she had Aztec blood in her veins and everybody knew the ancient Aztecs believed heavily in human sacrifice.
But right now the danger was this homicidal American sailor. "Maria, let me call the police!"
"No police!" Maria whirled, anger reddening her cheeks. "Never the police!" She spun into her dark rain cape and was gone, slamming the door to the girls' modest apartment.
It was crazy! "You could marry a thousand guys, get your American citizenship!" Vicki howled after her. By remaining an illegal alien from Mexico, like her father, Maria Carvo was beyond help of the law.
Vicki drank her second cup of coffee before leaving for her own job at the Medial Clinic of Clifton Heights. She fingered the Aztec brooch with pleasure, knowing it was worth several hundred dollars. "Poor kid!" she murmured. "Nobody can really help her." She began to think about various nurses she knew who might make a good new roommate.
Maria walked slowly through the fog-rain. It was hard to see in the pearly mist of the morning. Yet it was important to watch out for the sailor who'd probably be wearing a pea jacket on a day like this. As usual, there were no pedestrians on the streets of Clifton Heights. It was a suburb of small mansions where everyone drove, mostly Cadillacs, Lincolns and Rolls. Great homes reared up from hedges and trees.
On the suburb's fringe were a few modest apartment buildings where the people who served the rich lived. Maria's bordered the Clifton Heights Wild Area, a desolate and heavily wooded stretch of land that separated the mansions from the sea.
The Locksleys, who'd developed the suburb, had preserved this Wild Area to made into a park someday. Right now it was a tangle of trees, shrubs, hidden paths, wild grass, even caves that served lovers, thieves and others with dark, lawless acts to perform. It ended a high cliff over the Pacific Ocean. It was the last great tract of undeveloped land in Southern California and was said to be worth millions. The gloomy Locksley mansion bordered the Wild Area on the inland side.
A lone car crept out of the mist. It was a Clifton Heights patrol car, and the uniformed man beeped his horn and waved when he recognized her. Maria might avoid the police, but the young patrolmen appreciated her beauty like everyone else. For a few seconds Maria felt safer, despite her dislike of police. But she let the car drift off into the mist with only a short wave. She felt more exposed than before.
Never the police! Her father had taught her--Was that someone behind her in the mist? With a gasp the young girl ducked behind a tree in the Wild Area. A dark figure did, indeed, move in the pearly mist behind her.
"He will know you," her father told her before he died. "He's seen many pictures of you. If you see him--run for your life!"
Heart thumping, Maria moved deeper into the bushes. She wished now she'd hailed the police car for a ride to work. Too late!
Her father had described the sailor, big, blond, ugly, though his rugged face might attract some women. He had a knife scar running beneath one ear. Henry--his name was Henry Harper--was very good in knife fights--
Now Maria saw the big, dark figure in the sailor's typical pea jacket coming up to her in the rain-fog whiteness. He was civilian, merchant marine, and had that same rolling walk her father had. Vicki had seen him yesterday afternoon at the Medical Clinic and he would have had to find her apartment since then and stake it out.
Maria had two choices. One was to run down the wide, empty streets towards the Clifton Heights Center where she worked, where there were people. The other was to hide in the Wild Area, try to evade him. Her primitive instincts took over--she slid noiselessly into the tangled forest of the Wild Area. Behind her she heard an angry shout.
Deep in the shrubbery she stopped to listen. Small creatures scurried away from her. They didn't bother her; she'd been there before on walks with her fiance, John. Then a twig snapped nearby.
Damn! He had seen her leave the sidewalk. It was her dark cloak. In all this white mist it made her a target. Think, Maria!
She flung off her raincoat. She felt immediately the press of the cold and wet January morning, but that couldn't be helped. Her white uniform in this white fog would protect her. She flung her cloak over a small shrub. Let him stalk that!! She slipped deeper into the Wild Area.
The cave! Of course, the cave! Her fiance, John had told her about the cave, once used by smugglers. Before that he said it was a hideout from bandits in early California days. That day John had hoped to seduce her in the cave, but failed. The important thing--its tunnel led directly into the Locksley House.
Maria dressed the hair of all the women at Locksley House. She didn't care for them because they were all too kinky, but on a morning like this, chased by the killer sailor, she'd consider the Locksley House a haven--if she could only find the cave!
It took her an hour, and she was sopping wet when she finally found the cave entrance. Her uniform clung tightly to her body, and she was chilled, so she slipped gratefully into the small cave entrance past the lattice of wire someone had foolishly put across the mouth. So far she'd been lucky in evading the sailor--twice having heard footsteps, twice escaping.
Maria hated closed places. But now she rushed into the cave as if it were a heaven, certainly it was a haven. It smelled musty and she even imagined a cooking smell. The Locksley House? She had her cigarette lighter in her purse and used that to guide her into the darkness.
Beyond the entrance the cave widened to form a complete cellar-like room, large enough to stand up in. It was a favored lover's spot--the place John had brought her with the hope of divesting her of her virginity. To no avail, she thought with a smile. No man would ever know her sexually until she was married and everything was proper.
As she entered the love chamber, she stumbled over something. She held her lighter aloft, saw a bedroll on the stone floor. There were two candles on a rock, some cooking utensils and the ashes of a small fire that still put out welcome heat. Someone was camping here. Then she saw the seaman's foot-locker and almost fainted.
"Oh, my God!" Fleeing the mysterious sailor, she'd stumbled right into his lair. Quickly extinguishing her light, she listened. But she could hear nothing except the faint sound of water running, and she recalled there was a small underground stream. Most of all she heard the loud pounding of her own heart.
Go now! Two blocks through the dark, twisting tunnel and she'd be safe at the Locksley House! God, she hated caves! But--
Footsteps behind her! The sailor had given up his chase, returned to the cave! Half-crying in renewed fear, Maria flicked out her light and plunged forward in the darkness. She must hurry! Her speed was her undoing. She stumbled and reached out her arms as she fell in the dark, letting out an involuntary cry. "Oh!" Her head smashed against the overhanging rock wall. Pain lights burst into her mind. She tumbled down into darkness, while things of horror in the darkness reached out for her...
Maria came to feeling the throbbing pain of her head blow. She found herself staring up into the ugly blond face of the sailor, unshaven, blue eyes piercing hers with obscene delight.
"Hello, Maria Carvo!"
"I--oh--" she cried in agony. His grasp pinioned her to the stone floor.
"You've come to be killed, my little sheep," he crooned. There was an outdoor ruggedness to the seamed young-old face. "Henry Harper," he said. "Best friend of your black-hearted father!" He laughed wildly and brought up his seaknife, a long silver blade that glittered in the candlelight. She felt it press her throat and sensed its sharpness as he ran its tip down her throat.
She felt the cut, felt her blood run and in her extreme terror felt her bladder let go. There was a negative thrill like being on top of a roller coaster run, and then her bladder muscles went into convulsions, and at each of her little scream-sobs gushes of urine squirted from her cunt to heat her legs.
She saw he had short ropes in his hands. She couldn't think, only give moan sobs and lie in her spent piss, bladder empty now, thinking that on this morning, in this place life for her would end--in great, searing pain!
He bound her wrists and ankles, then said: "Shall we build a little fire for our interview? I think so, Maria."
"I--I--I--"
He raised his head and sniffed. "Why Maria, you've pissed in your panties, silly girl. Is that Aztec bravery? Or has your fierce Indian blood turned to water--piss water!" He roared with delight as he patted her sopping thighs and her cheeks burned with shame.
"Too bad. I'd planned to make you drink some of it. Ah, well, there's always my sailor's piss to be forced down your pretty throat." He shoved his face close to hers, his frozen in anger. "That will be one of your easy punishments!"
The fire was built, providing the light and heat. Then he turned to her and made two deft slits at the top of her uniform, Rraaackkkk! His huge hand ripped down the nylon, taking a panel right off the front of her body. She was exposed in bra and panties. But that lasted only for seconds. A flick of his knife separated her two bra cups and he immediately kneaded the nakedness of her breasts with his hot hands, pressing down on her sensitive nipples. She caught her breath at this crude familiarity. Her fiance, John, had never touched her breasts, never even seen them exposed !Now the blade of his knife slid under the thigh of her panties and with a wrist flick he severed them and pulled them off her. She was naked to his gaze.
Maria struggled silently with her bonds, too stunned to speak, and embarrassed to be nude before him, in spite of her terror.
"God in heaven! I haven't seen such a face and body in years!" he cried.
That stung her into speech. "You must not--touch me! I am a virgin! I have a fiance!"
He stared at her as if she were mad. "Not touch such a face and body? Why, Maria, I'm long on the ocean without sex. I think I must fuck you into a shapeless mass. I must make every possible use of your cunt, your ass, your mouth. After that, I punish you!"
His earthy words stung her ears. "Don't say such words in front of me!"
Again he roared with laughter and rudely plunged his hand down to her sex. No man had ever touched her there. She gave a cry of distress and shame.
"I must find your clitoris, my sheep!" Then he frowned, only to widen his eyes. "An obstruction! My sweet-assed little sheep is really a virgin!" Lust seized his features. "Oh, Maria, Maria, what a cock object you are! What a sexy piece of girl-meat." He had begun to undress himself.
"No!" she screamed. "The knife! Kill me! I won't allow the other!"
"You will allow everything!" He suddenly forced his big hand into her mouth, seized her tongue and pulled it out so far that tears of pain sprung to her eyes. He put the sharp knife blade against its pinkness and she felt a brutal cut. Blood. "That will have to come out--so I can fuck into your mouth easier." He let it go and she swallowed her blood, felt the ache at the tongue root from this rough usage.
Now his knife flicked at the nipple of her breast and she felt fire-pain. "I shall cut on your nipples, of course." He let the knife trace down her ivory belly. "We can change the shape of that," he said, flicking at her belly button so that two drops of blood appeared. She sucked her stomach back from the gleaming blade with a cry.
He took hold of her pubic hair with his free hand. "No need of my knife here, my sheep! I can tear out the hair easily by hand." He demonstrated by seizing some strands and roughly jerking them out of her body while she screamed at the loss of the dark, glossy stuff.
"Oh no!"
"Once I've fucked you, Maria, I shall cut out the parts of your womb I can reach. It'll be bloody, and it will hurt, but there'll be no more horseshit little Carvos running around the world to make trouble. Now, take hold of my cock."
Her heart thudded in her chest. Her body was sore from the small knife cuts and his rough usage. She could only sob and wiggle to show him her hands were tied.
He banged her head with his fist, making shocks of pain in her head. "Idiot! With your mouth! Bend down!"
"I--can't!" she sobbed. She wished fiercely now that her tormentor would simply plunge his knife directly into her heart and end it all.
Suddenly new terror rose in her. He had rested the point of his knife against her eyeball. She could feel the needle-sharp point trying to penetrate her soft lid. There was a change in his voice. There was a wicked rheum to it. His words were soft and half-crazy.
"What if I should blind you, girl, then mutilate you and you should live, raped of all your great beauty?"
Maria let out a dry sob. The fear of blindness made her almost mad with fright. She pulled back and almost whipped her head down to his big, stiff cock, slobbering on it as if it were a long-lost friend. She knew nothing of this cock-sucking. She'd heard it whispered about but had always closed her ears.
Now she felt the warm meat of his--thing--glide into her throat and, in compliance, she made her saliva glands run wet to welcome it. She tried to suck and manage the thing, but it choked her. Crying, she felt stuff burst from her nose.
Another ringing box on her ear. "Dirty girl! I like clean sex!" He dragged her up roughly and carried her to the underground stream where he washed her face and her thighs where her piss had dried. The only bad thing that happened there was when he crudely jammed a finger up her tender rear hole, and she jumped and screamed with pain as the dry sphincter throbbed at the invasion.
He laughed happily. "What a morning I shall have with the last of the Carvos!" he cried in delight.
Now her rape began. He took her back to his bedroll, untied her legs, spread them, and retired them again so her cunt was completely open to him. He hiked his jacket under her hips to cant her loins upwards, and she began to shiver as she stared at the huge distended prick that would shortly plunge into her soft cunt.
"Please, please don't," she begged again. "I am a virgin."
Which carried no weight with him. She smelled his body, his aroused male sexuality. It was almost pure animal. He held her head and kissed her on the mouth, forcing his tongue inside. She never let Johnny kiss her so. She gagged in repulsion as he sucked her juice from her mouth. Her tongue still ached from the small knife cut.
Then he made a pleased sound in his throat and forced his won saliva into her mouth. The hot stuff made her gag, jerk her head to one side and spit. He struck her on the head again and she thought she was going to pass out. She ached all over, and she felt her heart would burst with her fright and her humiliation at his arrogant use of her body.
The thrust of his cock came suddenly. One minute he was kissing her, the next he'd crouched, and his big prick daggered between her cunt lips. Pure hot agony raced up from her belly.
"NO!" she screamed.
"You're fucked!" he cried and the grisly, grinding meat forced her opening. She felt hot, raping pain, sensed her blood begin to flow. She writhed in agony, begging him to remove his unspeakable knife of human gristle from her body. No! He was into her an inch, two inches--three--and she felt faint, but the pain lessened somewhat.
He broker her maidenhead with a mighty lunge that made her teeth rattle. Her whole body seemed to curl away from the savage cock that suddenly rammed up its full length in her passage, distending the walls, opening up her tender being to his male usage. He cried out in triumph, his voice echoing in the cave, while she felt consciousness going as her wounded cunt paid tribute in the swift flow of her blood and vaginal juices. Oh, it was hot, wet, tight, humiliating...
Her pain lessened; and exquisite glow raced up from her belly.
"Ahhh-ooh-uuuu," she gasped. Her treacherous cunt was flowing its lubricant for the unwelcome visitor, and the hot friction opened her private soul to him.
"I'm not going to like this!" she suddenly screamed at him. "I'm not liking it!"
She railed up against the offending prick, trying every which way to rid her body of his violating meat. But each crazed thrust of her loins only brought greater delight to her belly. She was vaguely aware that he held still, watching her in astonishment as she writhed around his sex weapon.
Now she bunted furiously directly against the cock that turned her insides into molten jelly pleasure.
"I-I-I-I-" she stuttered. Her nerves were strung tight. All the freezing inhibitions of her terror were released in her tremendous body action. She was alive in her every pore but unable to turn back and route this wounding prick.
"Kill you--kuhkuh-kill you!" she panted. Her belly was going crazy with pleasure. Still he hung there, his loutish face pleased and surprised at her plunging and bucking.
Something new and terrifying was going to happen to her--something worse than death. She felt a fierce, wild animal rush past into her body, seize her muscles, turn her into a ferocious female beast, fucking up against that loutish sex organ. She concentrated her fury on her cunt muscles, felt them tighten and squeeze as if to pinch off his cock from his body. Yes--that was the way! Choke his cock!
She gave a cry of triumph as she temporarily got control of her cunt muscles. Four, five six--huge squeezes on his cock. She glared at him in glory, saw his frozen look, felt a shudder travel from his cock up his huge body.
It was too much. Her superhuman efforts could not go on. She whimpered, felt a frightening paralysis, promising a strange wonder.
"What's--happening?"
"You're coming--fantastic cock squeezer," he blurted.
It hit her then. Her entire sex equipment froze in a delicious suspension of action, and she gave a deep-gut gasp like the time her father died--then her belly throbbed and throbbed as she jerked in helpless humiliation under the prick that had done this to her. Every cell of her body seemed to spend along with her cunt contractions, and her mind went crazy, dizzy as wave after wave of pleasure rose inside her. She had paid her precious sex treasure to the raping male cock. Heavenly bliss made her light-headed, and she heaved great sighs of relief at her taking.
She felt him move again. She was now open-cunted to his thrusts. Then he shuddered, grunted. "Oh, Maria!" She felt his cock tremble, expand. His hot, spaced darts of liquid release intensified her pleasure. God, oh Gob. such copious male seed flooding in her was bound to create babies!
They hung sex-locked but spent. Maria did not want to move again, ever. Then she began to cry. "I'd saved it--for my husband."
He withdrew from her, his animal apparently appeased. "No matter. You won't live long enough to get married." Then he said, "You were a virgin. How were you able to squeeze my cock like you had a hand down there?"
"I'm part Aztec. The fiercest race that ever roamed the North American continent. I prayed to clip off your thing by making my cun--my box into scissors."
"It was so sexy I almost died," he said.
"Why do I have to die?" she asked.
He was off of her now, but she was still tied up. He said: "Because I spend my life savings for an Aztec idol--a golden, jeweled figure--to bring out of Mexico. Your black-hearted father put up some money. He brought it out, but I never saw it because he double crossed me. It took me five years, off and on, to find him, and now he turns up dead. That leaves you, my sheep."
"I'm not your sheep," she said. She felt some of his seed run out of her body between her legs and she shivered. She felt open, exposed, and a stranger to herself. He picked up the knife again. "One good fuck doesn't solve anything."
She began to talk then, hating herself. But while she talked, her body was free of his insults. "There's a small golden statue in the Locksley house. A male figure seven, eight inches high. I have seen it. It has a male thing standing up and its laughing. I think it's obscene. But they keep it in the Church of Pagan Rites.
"The what?"
She told him then about Locksley house--Phil Locksley who lived in a wheel chair when he didn't have to; his sister who called herself a hedonist historian and had converted one of the gloomy wings of the house into a pagan chapel to worship. Rumor said the worship was mostly just plain sex. She wouldn't know. But she'd seen the statue there.
"You go there?" he asked, listening closely.
"Only to dress the hair of the women. My fiance works there. But I want him out of there. It's a stinkpot of sin!
"Your father sold my idol to them!" he shouted in anger.
"It may be so. He said nothing about it to me. Believe me!"
"Now I shall tell you what trouble you're in. I have a son by a long-ago marriage. He's not much younger than you, Maria. He's a wild one, like myself. We've never had much contact, but now he needs me. He needs my money. He's gotten himself in prison in--well, a foreign country where they're tough on drug offenders. He's written to me begging for help. I can buy him out of that prison, but I need money now."
"That is sad."
"What have I done for him all his life? Very little. But now he needs help, he begs me. And your father stole a half-million dollars from me. I intend to get my Aztec idol back. Nobody will stop me and stay alive."
It was probably a lie, she thought. Still those kind of things happen these days. If so, he'd be extremely dangerous to cross. Men would do things for blood beyond what they'd do for money.
"My father said nothing of these things," she said. "But if it's true, that he cheated you and your son needs help, I would have to help, of course."
He stared at her and grunted. Then he said suddenly. "I have an errand." He tossed a blanket over her, still leaving her tied and she heard his footsteps die away. At least she still had her life--and that infernal glow in her sex parts. That bothered her--she must not allow him to molest her and stir up her lustful appetites. He had already stolen her precious maidenhead through lust, not love, and his ruthless hungers might corrupt her own fine sensitivities... she dozed, she dreamed strange dreams of central Mexico where she'd lived as a little girl--saw high mountains, bright colors, smelled the odors of forgotten fruits and flowers, recognized handsome Indian faces long forgotten.
Exquisite pleasure at her breasts. She awoke to find Henry had returned and thrust his mouth on her nipples. He was naked and he was hard. Oh, God!
He rose, picked up his knife, put it at her throat, then crudely shoved his cock into her mouth. "You will now suck my cock, Maria. I want to go off behind those beautiful lips, spend in the most beautiful face I've seen for years."
His mouth had started a pleasant trickle down below. As his rigid meat slid past her lips she felt her heart speed up. She realized now that each sex gush from his loins tamed him, calmed him. She'd bought her life with her maidenhead; perhaps she could now buy her freedom by drawing the thick, warm starch from his balls. But, oh God, it was so big, so stiff, and it had a revolting taste of meat, animal meat.
She let him instruct her and soon he was gasping, roughly shoving his honey-slick cock deep into her mouth, sometimes making her gag. She held his tool in her small hands trying valiantly to perform. She hated her own response, the fire in her own stomach, the growing flow in her cunt. But the Aztecs were meat eaters! she thought. Delicate, flesh-loving cannibals. I am part Aztec--I can make his meat flower! He moaned and shuddered in pleasure now, and she hated her own delight at controlling the huge body through this hateful effort. But it was also amazing and delicious. There! She'd swallowed his preseminal fluid. "Oh, Maria--your beautiful face--my cock going in--sucking--" he said.
She was going dizzy from this mad, perverted sex. If only he would spend, release her from her own deep desires which were rising fast! Without ever having done it before, on some instinct, she slid her fingers down along his seam. She felt his sweat, felt the corrugated surface of his rear hole. What would poor John think of her now, rubbing her finger across a naked male's asshole? But he squeezed his sphincter in pleasure and cried out in wonder. The beast sailor was being pleased!
His thrusting cock hurt her throat now, but she felt his deep body pleasures, felt his rising tension, and bobbed her head harder, flicking his cock head with her teeth gently as he'd instructed. He howled in delight, and cried, "Drink, or I'll kill you." Then he froze like a stone statue.
She had no choice. Trembling she capped the straining cock head and felt weak and then extremely sexual as his explosion started. Hot blasts of male strength spewed from his guts into her mouth. "Oh, ah, oh!" he cried, forcing his seed on her. She swallowed his thick glue as fast as she good, as it filled her mouth, tickled her nose, overwhelmed her. Oh, God, what a flood of cream he wanted in her. At last she was able to release him, licking the last of the spend from her lips.
"Maria!" He threw himself between her legs. Before she could react, he'd thrust his head tight to her box and began to lick her like a dog. She was astounded and repulsed. Animal! Hot intense jolts of pleasure seized her body, and she tried to pull free in fear. "No! No!" But he held her pelvis tight to his mouth and forced his hot tongue into her, stroking her clitoris. "Oh, no!" she cried in soft horror. It felt so good, it was so wrong, so perverted, so, sooooo--
She must not give in. But the steady friction, his eager working of his tongue made her begin to whimper. He was turning her into a dog bitch to match his animal ways. "Please--no--I can't--" she managed. She felt and heard him drink her rich, gooey flow--her precious, private juice stolen from her, sucked into his belly.
Now matter now! He'd roused the sin-beast in her and despite the instructions from her mind, her cunt thrust avidly to his mouth, begging his foul attention. Oh, she was going, going-- "Oh, oh, oh--stop now! Stooooopp!"
That was her last grunt and cry of protest. She humped his face now, all dog-bitch, panting, surging, her whole inside alive and fiercely hot, hungry, wanting. It seemed to her he rent the scared screen of her privacy with a dirty, arrogant hand and conquered her. "T-take--m-mee," she whispered, crazy for relief, and then she froze and her cunt began to quake, and she was the silly, dirty Mexican girl performing for him, taking huge spasms of pleasure from his act. How exquisite! Would her cunt never stop spending for him, contracting, throbbing? How treacherous her body, her clitoris, to be opened, taken and pleasured by this hateful male.
She felt rich and powerful and cunt-fruitful as she finished and lie in a golden daze of accomplished sex. Oh, Maria, she thought. You are corrupted, corrupted--
CHAPTER TWO
Maria had planned a way to kill the sailor who had raped her.
He wanted the Aztec figurine they kept in the Locksley mansion. Very well; she should help him get it. She would locate it in the house, tell him where it was, and stand lookout for him as he went in after it. As he emerged, she would shoot him. The police would exonerate her; the Locksleys call her a heroine. Of course, in all the publicity she risked being discovered as an illegal alien, but that would have to be risked.
He had taken her virginity against her will. None need ever know this embarrassing fact, but his death would satisfy her personal honor. Three times in all he had fucked her in that cave yesterday, and twice he had humiliated her by making her spend for his tongue. Then he'd released her to stagger home, her body aching but feeling magnificent from the love contact. He had thought she was his accomplice now.
She cut off all questions from a surprised Vicki and slept a good, restoring sleep. Sex and love were good for you--but not at the hands of a rapist. Not against the loss of honor. The bad feeling in her mind was not swept away by the good feeling in her cunt. Rather a thousand times pain than the dishonor of a force-fuck! This morning she took steps to regain her outraged honor.
"Where were you yesterday?" her female boss at the hairdresser's parlor demanded. "You were needed at Locksley House."
"I was sick," she answered in her flat voice. Her boss knew better than to challenge that flat voice; Maria brought much business to her place. "Who is it, Mrs. Fielding?"
"The housekeeper, yes," said her boss and retreated.
It was still raining as Maria set out for the Locksley mansion. A dark January day, fit for blood and revenge. A gloomy day to follow the day of her dishonor. She would do the housekeeper's hair. Then sneak off to find the Aztec idol in the Chapel of the Pagan Rites, in the west wing of the house. Not steal it; just spot it. After work, she'd go to the cave where Henry lolled at his ease, and tell him. Late tonight he would break into the house, seeking the idol he claimed was his. But he would find that death was all he earned as he came out of the house and walked into a bullet from Maria's gun. Her father had left her the gun. Already she carried it in her purse.
Death to the rapist!
The Locksley House frightened Maria; always had. Too many strange, immoral things happened there; the people were too rich, too twisted to be trusted. When she married the Locksley chauffeur, John Jefferson, they'd leave the rich suburb altogether, to raise a family in a normal neighborhood. Perhaps she would even open her own hairdresser's establishment. Zut! That would be good.
"Where were you yesterday?" the cold Scandinavian housekeeper admitted her with the hostile question.
"I was sick. I am fine today," she answered. She did not like Jeanie Fielding. Maria did not trust any woman who was as attractive as this blonde female but who had no man. The woman was about thirty, truly well-built in all regards, with a figure more lush than Maria's. How men would love to touch that body! thought Maria. But the frosty blue eyes, the cold smile, the sullen manner made Miss Fielding remote, mystic, even dangerous.
"That is the door to the famous Chapel of Pagan Rites?" Maria asked as they passed through the gloomy marble hall downstairs.
The housekeeper, back stiff as a soldier's, allowed herself a bleak smile. "Yes. The doors are always locked. No one, except members are permitted. Are you curious?"
Maria blushed and dropped her eyes. "No."
"Just as well. Such a place is not for the likes of a simple Mexican girl."
The hair-fixing was a sorry trial as it always was with this dominating, blonde woman. Jeanie Fielding could not keep her hands off the younger woman. She pinched Maria's thighs, lightly held her waist, once thrust her head back between Maria's breasts. Her body thought Maria was warm and moist, as hot as her manner was cold. For some reason Maria thought of the animalism of Henry yesterday when he attacked her. Maria felt her knees tremble in a sudden sex stirring. There was something wrong and frightening about anyone who could be so sexual, yet not have a man.
Towards the end Jeanie tried to be kittenish in her lumpen way. "What pretty eyes you have, Maria!"
"I see with them well enough," said Maria, blushing.
Jeanie held Maria's head in her strong hand. "Your skin is incredible, dear. Your mouth is exciting, very well-shaped. It's too bad that you've settled on the chauffeur, wasting all that beauty.
"I love him," said Maria, pulling away. She did not like this aggressive handling of her.
Maria always ended the session with a facial massage that soothed the blonde woman and sent her into a slight nap. Then Maria would gather her things and tiptoe out, sending the bill later.
Today she managed to cover the housekeeper's ring of keys with a piece of Kleenex. When she was done, Jeanie Fielding sat immobile in her chair before the dressing table, breathing deeply, eyes closed.
"I have to use your bathroom before I go," murmured Maria.
"Mmmm," muttered Jeanie.
Heart beginning to speed up, Maria grabbed the Kleenex and the keys and tiptoed out of the dressing room area of the austere room, turning out the lights as she went. Twenty minutes--ten minutes, and her task would be accomplished.
She thought she saw Phil Locksley wheel by a door down a distant corridor, and going down the wide marble stairs she thought she heard distant voices, but otherwise the big house was brooding in its silence. There was no one at all in sight on the ground floor. Maria moved quickly to the door of the Chapel of Pagan Rites. No sounds, no sights. God, what a gloomy mausoleum the Locksley House was--how could anyone stand to live here?
The lock on the tall doors of the Chapel was unique; it was not trouble at all to find the key on Miss Fielding's ring to fit it. Maria took a final look into the hall, saw no one, and slipped inside the Chapel.
Her senses were assailed at once--sight, sound, smell. The room was arranged like a theatre, with benches rising above a semicircle of a stage. But what benches! They were of a rich red material and obviously were couches made to accommodate entwined human forms. Drapes of royal purple hung behind the audience to deaden sound.
The important part of the Chapel was the sunken stage. Here at stage front an altar rose, but what an altar! It was a small, raised couch and upon it a naked man and woman embraced. Maria drew back, until she saw that the figures were waxen, frozen in the deep golden light of a single spot.
The stage area was quite large and Maria could imagine that any setting, from any period of antiquity could be set up on the stage. And richly, too, with the Locksley resources. Bits of gossip she'd heard told her that there were costumes and costly props for any ceremony. All that was lacking were sex-hungry young people to play the parts, to put on the obscene, outrageous performances wherein the actors were also the audience, and all the audience participated. She shuddered.
The music playing over speakers was odd, stirring, making tension rise in her nervous system. Turned to high volume it could whip passions into frenzy. Now it played low, with a teasing, absent quality.
The smell of the room was almost overpowering. Maria's mind flashed back to yesterday, to the smell of Henry's semen and her own woman's juice. Fructive, fruitful, the very smell of the place made her sex stir.
She moved quickly to the altar. The Aztec idol had to be somewhere in those compartments under the couch. She averted her eyes from the dead-smiling waxen male whose rigid penis posed at the cunt lips of the maiden whose glass-eyes gleamed in a dreamy, deathlike trance. Ughhh! Maria began quickly to open the cabinet doors beneath the couch. It took her longer than she planned; there was a wealth of sexual objects in the cabinets--about which Maria was glad to know as little as possible. How frightening! How sad that love should be perverted, when love should be warm, not forced and shattering.
"Well, Maria, do you need some help?"
Maria froze, then slowly turned her head. It was like yesterday in the cave, that sick, trapped feeling inside of her. There stood the housekeeper, but what a change! The woman wore a black leather bodice that did not quite cover her magnificent breasts. There was something obscene in the richness of her exposed nipples, the tautness of the points. Her eyes were hot and bright.
"I was just--the Aztec idol--the small figurine!" blurted Maria in her terror.
"Oh, you would not want to meet him, my dear!" said Jeanie and dragged the girl to her feet. She was larger than Maria and, caught in her hot grasp, Maria understood how much stronger. "He destroys by sex!" Jeanie's hands slid over the girl's slick nylon uniform. "Oh, how sexy your warm, little body is, Maria."
"Let me go!" cried Maria in panic.
But Jeanie plunger her free hand beneath Maria's skirt and seized her cunt. "What is this?" crooned Jeanie. "Such a beautiful girl has a vile, human cunt?" Her strong fingers parted Maria's cunt lips and found her clitoris. Maria jumped as a sharp flood of pleasure started up her belly. Nerves taut in her fright, the sensation was doubled. "Ahhh!" cried Maria in sharp reproach. The superhot body of the larger woman and the cold of her leather repulsed Maria. "No, no!" he cried.
"But I cannot let you go!" said Jeanie. "You've broken a rule, coming into this chapel. Now you must pay." Her fingers slid down the zipper on Maria's uniform. Maria struggled but the stronger woman disrobed her down to the buff as easily as if she'd been a child. "Oh, please," Maria begged piteously. "Please don't do this to me!"
Jeanie shoved the naked girl free of her. Maria stumbled and went down.
Craccck!
A whip Maria had not seen laid a stinging, smarting blow across her naked buttocks. "Oh!" she screamed and jumped up in hurt and terror. Jeanie was laughing now as her whip cracked leaving red furrows on the girl's ass, thighs, legs. Each blow brought surging pain and Maria leaped and howled at each new lash that brought its shock and laid a burn on her skin that wouldn't go away.
"Ah! Oh! I'm killed! Stop! Stop!" Her whole body was becoming an aching bum. Jeanie's laughter was more of a sex croon as she chased the frightened girl across the stage, up past the couches and down to the stage again, the singing black whip slowly turning Maria's beautiful skin into a cross-patch of red snake marks.
In her agony, Maria tried to rush the whip, to seize the instrument of torture which seemed to her a living black snake that consumed her body. Once again she was locked in the grasp of the hot-bodied disciplinarian. "No--more," begged Maria.
"Oh, child, I love you," answered Jeanie. "I want to save you from this terrible place!" And Jeanie seized her head, kissed her on the mouth, shoved a hot, wet tongue between her lips.
Maria thought she would faint, between the deep ache of her body and that repulsive wet tongue thrust in her mouth to force alien saliva into her privacy. In her panic to get free of that sick kiss, she jammed her knee against the leather-clad pelvis of her tormentor. Jeanie grunted and let her go, stepping back, dropping her whip. The blue eyes sang in moist anger now.
"Oh, Maria, Maria, that was a horrible mistake."
The next indignation was something so horrible and beyond her imagination that she thought she'd gone mad, but the pain in her body told her otherwise. Jeanie seized her, bound her wrists and ankles, and unceremoniously dumped her on the altar-couch, after rolling off the wax figure of the woman with an indifferent thrust of her shapely leg. There was a head-band to restrain her and Maria lie there, bound, heart thudding furiously in her fright. Jeanie thrust--something into her mouth. Something hard and large that she couldn't get rid of. Something like a dish. Yet it went so deep in her throat that she could only breath through her nose.
Jeanie held up a quart bottle filled with a chalky white milk. It wasn't milk.
"Used for initiations," said Jeanie with a sinister smile. "Male semen. Since you do not like my form of love."
Then Jeanie began to pour it into the dish thrust into Maria's mouth and the girl realized it was a funnel that Jeanie had put there. The chalky stuff gushed down her throat directly into her stomach, and faintly she could taste starch.
But Maria knew it wasn't semen. She'd tasted real male starch from Henry's cock only the day before. This repulsive chalk started a fire burning in her stomach, and she felt her guts revolt and churn as the stuff poured in. "Mmmmmaggggh," she whimpered. It was incredible because it was distending her belly and each ounce made her stomach tense and surge to throw it off. A red-hot fire paralyzed her middle as her stomach began to squeeze to throw off the foul-smelling drink.
"Ahhhhhnngg," she wined as she writhed under her tormentor's pleased, hot gaze.
"But that's only half!" cried Jeanie gleefully and poured even faster, the nauseous liquid scouring her throat adding to the sick waves in her belly. "All! All!" cried Jeanie upending the bottle.
"Nnnnnn," Maria keened. Oh, God, it would kill her! Her bellyful of liquid fire was contracting her stomach in massive, aching spasms. She'd never felt such exquisite agony in her entire life.
Now Jeanie's hands added to her agony by kneading the girl's belly. "Ahhh, Maria! What a hot, active belly. How sexy! Are you churning up a baby for me deep inside?" Now Maria's stomach muscles locked hard, loosened again, locked again, while sweat ran from her forehead and her heart pumped in desperate agony as her whole body organized to throw off the poisonous chalk that her tormentor had forced into her. She began to go into jerking convulsions of pain.
Swiftly Jeanie released her and carried her to the foot of the altar where she revealed a small channel of running water with a quick flick of her hand. Maria woozed in her first releasing vomit as the chalk spewed up from her insides and gushed in volleys through her mouth and nose. She coughed and strangled, her nerves discharging with a weird pleasure of vomiting, body wracked and used to its utmost to cast out the chalk. Holding her, Jeanie shoved her strong hand into Maria's belly and forced up another surge, crooning madly as she managed the girl's body in its extremity of vomiting. Maria obediently spewed out more of the liquid chalk, and once more, and once again in response to that squeezing hand.
"There, dear, there!" whispered Jeanie, hot mouth tickling Maria's ear. Maria lie exhausted, her body as used as if she'd been had sexually, every nerve brought to bursting tension, every muscle strained in the exercise of the purge. Her body still burned from the lash of the whip, her stomach and insides glowed from the success of throwing off the chalk, she felt as if she'd carried heavy weights all day long, her muscles weak and trembling, her nervous system shocked into passivity by the violent purging. She tried to lift first her arms, then her legs, but they trembled in fatigue. Outrageous, this use of her body's workings by this vicious woman!
"I'll--I'll--call--police," Maria managed with a gasp.
"Oh, no, no, I think not!" answered Jeanie softly. "You're illegally in this country, my dear Maria. Oh, no, no police for you!"
"John--Jefferson, my fiance--"
Jeanie, holding her, nibbed her ear. "But he's so many miles away today. So many, many miles!" She wiped Maria's brow which was still in sweat and used a perfumed atomizer in Maria's mouth and nostrils to carry away the harsh vomit taste. She cuddled Maria like she was Jeanie's baby, murmuring softly. Maria felt the length of the blonde woman's body hugging her, realized with tired surprise that the stronger woman was naked. Jeanie's hand parted her legs, began to stroke her cunt.
No matter. Maria was too weak just now to respond, and besides her nerves were temporarily played out; she could not respond.
Odd! She felt a warm, friendly glow rise in her belly. It was so nice to rest here now, the whip bums on her body dulling to a warm glow, the rest after the purging feeling so peaceful. In a moment her strength, her will to resist would return.
The woman gently nibbled her neck, kissed her softly. "Oh, how I admire your fantastic beauty, Maria... you have the primitive quality of your people, Aztec grace, beauty. Angela has told us of the bright fierce people that were your ancestors. With such a skin, such a figure, you'd've been their princess. I love your softness, your jaguar strength." Jeanie kissed her on the mouth. The tongue was begging, teasing this time.
Suddenly Maria began to breathe deeply and opened her mouth to accept the Scandinavian's tongue. It was Jeanie's turn to gasp as she slid her tongue along the hot arch of Maria's cavity. Once again, as yesterday, Maria felt the thrill of the power of her body, felt her juices flow below as she surrendered her saliva to the blonde. She must draw off the poison of this woman's sex, render her harmless.
Heart beginning to pound, Maria surged up against the hot body and sacrificed her own tongue into Jeanie's mouth. The two women locked in a deep kiss, while Maria felt her sex juice flow over Jeanie's questing fingers and also felt Jeanie's cunt discharging wetly against her leg. Those magnificent breasts pressed against hers, nipples hot, and Jeanie mounted her like a man, hot-kissing. It was Jeanie who whimpered now, hugging her victim, rubbing her wet cunt crazily against Maria's pelvic bone.
Between her kisses. "Oh, Maria, Oh, oh!"
Maria's own passion rose now as she arched her loins against the sharp bone of the other, trying to get clitoral contact. She felt hot and eager, crazy to -- to --
Then Jeanie was sliding down Maria's body, strong pink tongue writing sexy furrows of saliva on her skin, making it thrill with delight, making Maria give a delicious shudder.
"I--I--" Maria protested.
Too late! Jeanie sunk her tongue into Maria's cunt and found her clitoris. Paralyzed, Maria worked up hungrily for the contact, took a dozen swift, tingling strokes and came in light, quick throbs. Heavenly release! Delicious taste! Yet still hungry--empty--wanting!
Maria had misjudged. She didn't know her body, she didn't know the power of sex. She was an inexperienced child in the hands of people like this. She cried out in disappointment. That kiss had been a mistake. "I want--I want--" Jeanie peered at her maliciously over Maria's muff. "Ask for it, princess!"
"Noooo!" whined Maria, her body at odds with her mind. She would not succumb! Never! She tried to pull back, but her treacherous hungry cunt defeated her, thrusting towards Jeanie's mouth.
"Please! cried Maria, trapped again into humiliation. "Fuck me! Fuck me, Jeanie!"
Deep, satisfying tongue strokes that rowled her aching clitoris and cunt. Incredible waves of pleasure from her belly, demanding more, more... Grunting, gasping, Maria reamed herself off shamelessly on Jeanie's face.
Beaten with a whip. Arrogantly purged by the blonde beast. And now, against all reason, her tormentor was using her sex equipment to establish further domination, and Maria cried for it, begged for it, would've crawled on her belly to satisfy the raging fire in her cunt, helpless and quivering before one pink human tongue.
Oh, but the golden, golden fire in her guts! Wheezing in sex excitement, Maria felt her inside a container of liquid gold, frothed by sex into an explosive mixture, ready to spray out of her cunt and cover the world.
"Now, oh, oh, NOW!" she screamed and arched up in heavenly distress to freeze in her lover's control. She felt her sex nerves discharge in achingly sweet throbs as she surrendered the totality of her being to the dominant woman, and then subsided into a spent haze of relaxed glory. God in heaven, her cunt felt good! Never in her life had she felt so good all over, as at this moment, despite the ruthless use of her body by the other.
Through a lazy languor she saw the blonde hair and the red lips of Jeanie's cunt approaching her face. Hardly conscious, Maria licked and burrowed into the flowing woman tunnel and satisfied Jeanie's desires. It seemed like a small return for all her good feeling.
She dozed, only to awake with her head once again restrained, the funnel once again thrust into her mouth, the burning revulsion of the liquid chalk again pouring into her belly to make her stomach chum and spasm. No, no, no! But Jeanie purged her again and then loved her hotly to another shattering orgasm.
Then Jeanie released her, showed her the small, jeweled statuette, hidden in a compartment below the couch.
"You're one of us now," murmured Jeanie, helping her dress as if she were a cripple. "You'll come back tomorrow."
"I shall never enter this house again!" cried Maria weakly.
"They all say that," smiled Jeanie. "You'll come back. They all do."
"No!" Maria stumbled towards the door.
"You belong to me now, not your silly Johnny!" Jeanie told her, and she laughed in a crazed sort of way.
Maria fled. Outside, trembling, she stopped and stared back at the gloomy mansion. It had reached out for her. It had unerringly found the seed of her sin-corruption in her own body and made it grow. For the cave was part of it.
CHAPTER THREE
"I would like to enjoy a--domination scene--by a strong woman," said Henry. He tried to make his rugged features look innocent and begging.
Jeanie Fielding, the Locksley housekeeper, stared at him, then threw her head back and laughed. "You--with the big shoulders--ugly face--that scar--looking for female domination? You'd scare a roomful of Mafioso!"
"No, please--" he said making his voice gentle. "Burly truck drivers are sometimes softly homosexual. Mean-looking people often have sweet souls. I like punishment. I've heard that here in Clifton Heights--perhaps in this house--"
"You came about the job as handyman," she cut him off. "Let us concentrate on that."
But Henry could see that his sudden thrust had touched the woman. There was ? flicker of interest in those cold, blue eyes. She wet her lips as she went on with the handyman interview. His luck was running--the Locksley House had advertised for such a man for several days now. He'd found out about the job even before tracking down Maria Carvo, thinking to use it as cover while finding her.
Instead it turned out his Aztec figurine was here in this very house! And the housekeeper had the key to the room where it was hidden. A shattered Maria had told him that, and blurted out enough besides to put him wise to Jeanie's black leather desires. Poor Maria must've had a time of it--she was beside herself now. It'd been a rough two days for the girl, and he wondered for her sanity. She wanted to act as his lookout when he stole the statue. Well, her problems were for the future. Now he had to press on with Jeanie.
While the housekeeper interviewed him in a small alcove on the ground floor of the Locksley House, people were arriving and disappearing into the other wing of the house, guided by an attractive woman. She wore a priestess kind of dress and had soft, buttery red curls. There was something about her and her guests that stirred him--their eyes too bright, faces flushed, conversation too loud. It told him the party they attended beyond those double doors was most likely an orgy.
Now he said: "I've heard you have some kind of a church here."
Her look was cold. "Yes. For the historic study of pagan ceremonies and rituals. Miss Locksley--half-sister of the owner--is a medieval scholar of some renown. We're expecting a grant from the Ford Foundation."
Henry thought: A medieval scholar, dressed like that? Flaunting a saucy butt like hers? They'd get no grant from any foundation. But he said: "I'd like to talk to Miss Locksley. As a sailor's who's traveled the world, seen many strange thing--" Jeanie cut him off: "You're applying for a job as a common laborer." But she dawdled over the interview. Henry felt excited. This lesbian bitch with the rich body was interested in him. She kept looking at his crotch. Her white teeth flashed. Her full Scandinavian lips worked.
For his part, he was getting more aroused. Rich breasts, strong loins, a beautiful full butt, shapely thighs, legs. His scar under his ear burned to get his hands on the sexy lesbian. And he could read her mind: What a thick cock to be whipped into submission!
Sure enough, as she led him out, she said, "I shall hire you. You are to return at eleven p.m. You may quarter here for the night."
He left, delighted. It was leather and whips all right--if she wanted him back here tonight!
He tried to find Maria because her crushed attitude had worried him. The kid could make plenty of trouble. But he could find her nowhere, and at eleven p.m. he returned to Locksley House.
Jeanie, wearing a robe, quietly admitted him. She gestured for silence, pointing to the double door where, evidently, the rites of the evening continued. She led him up wide marble steps to the second floor to austere rooms that were obviously hers. As they went Henry saw her black leather boots showing under the robe. Ahhh!
Inside the rooms, which were a bedroom, bath and sitting room, she locked the door and said: "The walls of this house are thick. Not even the loudest of screams can penetrate." Then she slipped off her robe and stood proud before him. The nipples of her magnificent breasts were barely covered by her black leather bodice. Her exquisite thighs were lewdly naked between bodice and black leather boots.
"Undress!" she ordered.
He did, cock half hard from staring at her voluptuous charms. Her eyes widened as his powerful sex tool came into sight. "I shall punish that impertinent cock!" she said, her face demonic.
Then she produced handcuffs that Henry let her put on his wrists in front, meek to her rough handling. She then passed a chain between his bound wrists and reached up to hook the chain to another hook on the wall. She took no chances with the big-muscled stranger. Henry quivered in delight.
She went behind his back. He knew she picked up her long, black whip.
"Don't hit me too hard," Henry begged in a little boy voice.
"Beast! Ugly cock!" Craaaackk! Her whip struck his buttocks. Henry writhed and cried out: "Oh, no, I can't stand it!"
"You're strong!" Craaackk! "I can let myself go!" Her voice was filled with sex delight as she punished his male body with her peasant strength. "Pig! Foul male!"
"Oh, Owww--please--no!" he cried, feeling the pain build in him. Beatings were nothing new to him, but her stinging whip was a little more than he'd expected. What strength the bitch had!
Jeanie crooned now in a paroxysm of pleasure, lashing into his naked skin with fury, leaving long red marks, some blood and stinging pain.
KERRRUPPP! With a single jerk of his powerful shoulder he ripped the hook out of the wall over his head. He spun, caught the end of the whip with handcuffed hands, gave a mighty jerk. Crash! Jeanie went to the floor and slid on her shiny leather towards him. As her head came to his knees he raised his manacled hands and hit her a stunning blow on the head. "Ahhhh," she groaned and went into a temporary daze. Henry jumped for the keys to the cuffs. "Bastard!" She was on him again, and he kicked her in the stomach so hard his toes tingled. She crumpled, pained and winded "Uh-uh," while Henry freed himself of the cuffs and dived for his knife. She raced for her bureau, he cut her off, brought her down. "Now we shall see!" he grunted and ripped at her costume with the knife. But the leather didn't cut easily. By the time he'd peeled her big body out of the bodice, there were cuts on her front made worse by her struggles.
The exposure of her tits made him wild; he seized her luscious nipple in his mouth and pulled the full length of her nudity to him, bucking at her pelvis to get his big cock into her body.
"Asshole male!" She panted under him, writhed, denying him her cunt, but his mouth on her nipple made her quiver and delighted him.
She fixed her strong, white teeth into his neck, bit him hard. "Yeowww!" went Henry, thrust from pleasure to pain. Down below it felt great, naked bodies sucking together, sliding a little on her blood. Above it hurt, and in his anger he decided on strong measures for her. "Fix you bitch!" he panted. He let her go, went for his pants.
"All right, buster!" She dived across the room for her bureau drawer. He hard her scrabbling behind him as he found the pliers he carried in his jacket. He leaped back for his knife looking across the room to see her pulling a revolver out of her bureau drawer.
There was no time to think, only to react. Henry scooped up his knife and threw it all in one gesture. It was a bad throw for the blade, but the knife handle struck her wrist and sent the gun flying while she howled. "Bastard!"
He was upon her before she could recover, wrestling her to her big bed. Their bodies sucked together oiled now by their sweat, muscle straining against muscle, and Henry felt surges of pure sex delight at finding such a formidable female, able to take the full force of his anger. His hard-on actually ached to subdue the blonde's cunt.
Now he had her pinned to her bed with his weight, choking her and forcing that strong, beautiful face up, while she thrashed under him, her struggles sending streams of fire up his hard cock at the sweating, naked contact.
"No man--ever took me!" she managed. "You'll die--"
"No way, Baby!" He gave her upper lip a strong tap with the pliers and her mouth flew open in surprise. Deftly he slipped the pliers into her mouth, fixed upon one of her gleaming white teeth on the upper left side, halfway back. She arched her eyebrows in astonishment.
"This is for Maria Carvo," he said. "This is for stealing my idol."
"Arrggghhhnngg!" Her mouth was full of his hand and the pliers.
He began to extract her tooth, exerting all of the power of his hand, arm, shoulder on the pliers locked on her beauty. He pulled on the tooth and rocked at the same time, so that he could break the tooth away from her bone. In fright, pain, shocked, she ripped at him, and she screamed so that the walls rang. "Oooonooooo!"
Henry exerted his utmost strength holding her, dislocating her tooth. He felt her tooth loosen from the bone after a while and gave a cry of triumph. "I want it! Let it go, you bitch!"
"Orrrummmm!" she cried, tears of frustration pain and anger welling from her eyes. At first reluctantly and then more rapidly, the tooth surrendered to his raping instrument. It suddenly moved swiftly with grinding ease from the bone of her jaw as she gave another shriek. He gave a final tug and it came free out of her mouth, bloody, solid in the grip of his pliers, huge, perfect.
He held the bloody exhibit before her shocked, pain-filled face. "Believe me, Jeanie Fielding, I want my Aztec idol. You'll help--or the rest of your teeth go!"
It cowed her. She closed her eyes and ceased struggling. Henry dropped his grisly dentistry on the bed, opened her legs and went for her cunt. The battle had made her cunt slick with her juices, just as it had made him hard. He thrust his yearning cock easily into her guts.
Her bitch heat excited him, her free flowing juice made her passage wet. It was hot and tight as well, tighter than he'd thought for a big woman. But then there'd never been a cock to loosen it, had there? She surged up against him. What magnificent loins she had for fucking!
"Oh, Jeanie, Jeanie, you're a priceless, beautiful f-f-fuck!" He bucked in and out of her body now, she not resisting, he maddened with the success of cowing her and now taking her. In all his years, in many ports, fucking women of all races, Henry had never enjoyed such an exquisite fuck. He licked her beautiful skin, sucked the nipples of her big breasts, bit her neck and throat in driving animal power, feeling his fast-moving cock getting hotter, more avid, more thrilled--
Her eyes were half-closed in pain and stoic as he used her. Her mouth was closed, lips turned down to scorn him, jaw slightly swollen from the assault on her poor, lost tooth. Well, he'd lost a couple himself in fights; it wasn't so bad, really. Oh, oh, oh, he was rising, rising--
Rich fuck sounds. He wished he could get some response from her. His cock rode grindingly over her strong clitoris, but she was denying his cock power.
"Come, bitch come!" he commanded. He bit into the soft skin of her neck, felt her powerful nervous system tense as she shoved up against him. "Come c-c-come!" he said more desperately but he was unable to throw her into orgasm.
He was into his own pleasure distress now. He'd ridden his cock to paralyzing frictive delight, on the bed of her fast-flowing fluid that, at least, she couldn't turn off. "No--come " She gritted her teeth against it. His own teeth began to chatter at the big explosion coming to him.
"Ahhh. Ohhhh. Ahhh."
She quivered--too late! An incredible freeze of pleasure began deep down in his guts. Henry cried sharply at the peak of his fuck point. "Oh, Jesus--going--flying--Ahhh, God!"
Spurt! Spurt! Spurt! Hot gobs of steaming jism pumped into her lesbian cunt. It was his spend of all time, the way his belly unlocked and the hot seed throbbed into her channel with marvelous bursts of pleasure to his nerves.
As he went frozen and helpless, she tried to escape. Her mouth too sore to bite, she dug her nails into his back and tried to free herself of the humiliating male seed that had never before bathed her woman-loving cunt. No use! His dead weight, tensed muscles were too strong. "Pig bastard!" she screamed, but she had to take every drop of his greasy, hot spend, thrust into her belly with insolent arrogance. He hugged her in delight, at making the unmakeable vagina.
Shortly thereafter he'd bound her on the bed and drew up a chair at her bedside. He tapped one of her naked tits with his knife. "You look beautiful, Jeanie Fielding. Your body is rosy, nice and fucked, and those little cuts I gave you are nothing. Your cunt looks juicy and you're giving the world back part of my semen you don't want. Maybe keeping the rest."
"What do you want, fuck-sailor?"
"I'm going to own you, Jeanie, just like you mastered the girl. I'm going to own you or kill you. I want your orgasm!"
"Kill me--you won't get it. No man has!"
He deliberately laid a small cut on her cheek that made a little blood flow. He watched her apprehensive eyes. God, her body turned him on, her sullen ways, her surly resistance.
"I'll get it--we have time."
"Sooner or later my turn will come," she said flatly. She had trouble speaking with the wound in her mouth. He pulled her to the edge of the bed. He worked the handle of his knife up into her cunt, still slippery from the action. He began to ride her clit with it. It was exciting to see her try to evade the sex contact. He stood up, brought his cock to her mouth.
"Suck me, Jeanie. Suck Man. No tricks." He wiggled the knife handle in her box menacingly.
She obediently opened her mouth and took his prodder. He was surprised and then he realized that to defeat him, to prove he couldn't make her come she had to offer her body to be tested. If she resisted orgasm despite his best efforts, she had defeated him, defeated the world of men.
At the moment Henry began to think more of his own pleasure. There was surprisingly little blood from her mouth wound--the woman had an incredible constitution. There was rich, healthy saliva in quantity and because of her missing tooth she was unusually gentle in her suck.
He had little semen at the moment, but the hot, heavenly friction was making his balls and prostate get busy. Sexual tension began to rise as he fucked into her yielding mouth. She shifted and shivered from the knife handle rasping on her clitoris, but he kept the pressure on. This magnificent Scandinavian beauty was going to weaken and spend off for him!
Deeper and deeper into her hot throat. "Ahhh, Jeanie, Ohhh, it feels so greatttt!" She was breathing harder now, and he was iron hard as his cream rapidly collected. Her teeth nibbed his cock head, teasing the rich sex nerves and making him thrill and thrill in ever-rising pleasure.
He gave a roar of delight as he felt his sex capability return. He dropped the knife and fell onto her body, reveling in the full length naked hug of her, plunging his face into her blonde. Greedily he sucked her copious flow, swallowing her pungent sexjuice as he rode his cock into her mouth. Their nude bodies sucked obscenely together. The sound of his gobbling and her gobbling filled the room.
He isolated her clitoris now and laved and forced it with all of the skill of years of sex. She shifted, trying to ease the sex demand on her well-developed main sex nerve. But it was humanly impossible for her not to accept this skillful tongue massage; she had to hunder and ride his suck, as she groaned in pleasure. Yet Henry approached his own orgasm, aware that she was not nearly hot enough to come.
Too late. The exquisite desire to go seized him. "I'm fucked! Ohhh--Jeanie, I-I-I--go-going!" His body went into paralysis. With this second spend there was a deliciously long wait for the first spurts to begin. He felt that he ascended to an erotic heaven, waiting, waiting--
"AHHHHH!" The relieving, excited spurts came with his cock so deep in her throat she could not refuse the flood of hated male semen. Spending, spending, spending, utterly and completely, right into her belly. "T-taken!" he whimpered. "Oh, God--He relaxed at last, savoring the golden feeling in his sex parts, his face resting on her thigh, inhaling her pungent odor, her swollen pink cunt inches from his face.
A beautiful woman, worthy of his strength and great cock power. What a stroke of luck to have come to Clifton Heights!
He checked the hall outside her rooms. He heard cheerful voices faintly, down below. Apparently the Church of Pagan Rites was closing up for the night. High time--it was midnight.
He returned to the bed. Jeanie dozed now, eyes closed, legs spread, her chest rising and falling evenly, exquisite breasts rising, nipples red and innocent, his slight knife cuts no more than beauty marks on her body. God, what a female! How wasted she was as a lesbian. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and make off to sea with her--spend months on the ocean, his cock between her legs--But it would be the police and prison unless he could master her and make her have feelings for him. It would take her orgasm to accomplish that. Without her orgasm that she kept out of reach of him, he would never survive Clifton Heights.
He picked up the pliers still locked on the tooth he'd wrenched from her mouth. A perfect tooth, large unmarked, healthy. Everything about her physical being was healthy, graceful. There was a bit of her meat, healthy tissue, that had come out with the tooth, clung to it. He thrust the souvenir in his pocket.
He bathed Jeanie's body with wet towels and massaged her body with perfumed lotions from her dressing table. She watched him sullenly, mouth still swollen, lips firmly locked. Already new sex stirrings raced in his loins.
"I love your body. I love you. I want you, Jeanie!" He kissed the swollen lips.
Her blue eyes were frozen, her expression locked -- like a gloomy Scandinavian landscape of white snow and blue, icy water.
"I love only women. I hate men. I won't perform for you." There was almost a sadness, as if part of her begged for release, at least for the thrill of combat. Not once had she mentioned her lost tooth. What a woman!
He licked her body, then stroked her flesh until it glowed rosy. The effect was to lock his cock hard again, but as far as he could tell it had no effect on her. A sudden wildness--hate, anger, began to seize him. "Bitch!" he said and squeezed her big breasts. She rose slightly to the pain, and her eyes came alive. She knew the game was about to run. "Fuck me--and lose!" she said.
He chose her ass this time, the tenderest of all large body openings. Unlike her mouth and her cunt it was not made for the introduction of foreign objects. Indifferently, she let him untie her and place her face down on the bed.
Her buttocks were perfection, smooth-skinned, flawless. A rich fullness without an extra inch of flabbiness. Her muscles were taut without being hard. He went into her crack, carefully greasing the red inner rhime, stroking the blonde hair that protected her tenderness, teasing her pucker with his fingers.
She locked her asshole against him--Jeanie wasn't giving him a thing! But his strong fingers gently, firmly forced her sphincter. Sexually alive, absorbed, he worked her until out of sheer usage her sphincter, out of her control, easily sucked in his finger. She moved her loins apprehensively. "Don't do that!" she groaned trying to preserve her tender parts.
"But your sexy ass begs to be violated," he told her. He mounted her and slid his greased cock to her notch. His cock was ready, filled with semen, an anxious gun set to fire. As he violated her sphincter with his cock head, hot thrills shot up from his pleasure center. What a gorgeous cumhole she was! The mass of her loins was great enough to provide him with a sturdy back passageway.
"Sailors know ass," he chuckled, then gasped at the pleasure as he passed his prick slowly in and out of her relaxed muscle.
"Shitlover," she said, but he could tell she responded to the pleasant bum at her hole.
He fucked into her deeply, thrilling at the hot, tight walls of her bowel, excited by her gasps and attempts at evasive movement.
He caught her thighs under, and enjoyed contact on his own thighs with the smooth woman's buttocks that tensed apprehensively at this perverted invasion. Forcing her buttocks tight to him with one arm, he slid his other hand under her and found her clitoris. She jumped, and he knew she felt the closing in pleasure of finger in her cunt, prick in her ass.
Delighted, he cried: "Ah, oh--I'm fucking your beautiful ass. What a sexy, tight hole!"
It was as if she had to deny him by word as well as action. "Ahhh, nooo," she said, even though her breath came faster at his long slow fuck into her gut.
His greedy cock wanted to pound and friction rapidly and get off in her guts, but he kept his motions slow and careful so that he could savor the deep strokes into her body. She began to pant now, and sweated, a hot female held in unnatural sex lock and being used by a powerful male.
"Give--me--" he managed.
Suddenly she tensed and he felt her whole sex equipment chug a little. Henry gave a shout of exultation and began to fuck her wildly, driving her, reaming her with his pole, which throbbed with delight at its freedom, ramming, ramming, ramming--
"Oh, ah!" he cried. "Jesus God--ahhhh!"
He was taking her! He could feel her body begin to lift under his drive, her clitoris riding his finger, her loins working against his cock, her sexy buttocks tensing and untensing against him.
"Jeanie!"
"No!" She was going to escape after all, because she breathed very deeply, with great sucking gasps to feed her muscles and relax them against his drive. At the same time her tensing buttocks and glorious hole were going to draw off his cream and defeat him.
Almost crazy with the heat, hot action and the sweating, working body of the woman fighting in her desperation, he tried to make his dazed brain work. What to do? His freeze was coming. He must make her and take her. Must!
He slid his free arm under her neck, squeezing her throat. He choked her, forcing her head up, cutting off her air. He felt her whole body lock like steel. He felt her great heart pounding, pounding futilely to get air, swelling to burst without air in her lungs.
At that moment he slid into orgasm. His cock froze, and his body stilled--"God A--uh--ooouuue--no--yessss!" he cried.
He released her throat. Her strong lungs pumped in a great suction of air, almost lifting Henry. "Ahhhh, God!" she gasped. But it was her doom. Her body froze and she began to pay off to him. "I'm--fucked--" she admitted. "OHHH!" Her sphincter clutched his cock in a spasm, and her cunt clipped his fingers in the same spasm. Then she went into luscious throbbing female orgasm under him, submitting to him. She began to weep as defeating orgasm kept her throbbing.
Through a silken haze of is own delight Henry enjoyed her yielding. Now he spent rich gouts of sperm deep in her guts. "Wow. Taking--you!" he cried.
She was still whining and crying and spending her sex delight for him while he ran out his tremendous spurts.
They lie fuck-locked. Once, twice she rose in afterquakes of her cunt and sighed. His spent cock, still thrust up her body felt the wash of her juices and his, triumphant conqueror of her body and her will. The struggle had been so great that he could not lift off his defeated opponent for long minutes, and she rested in her sex faint.
Feeling drained, but terrific, glowing, Henry slowly got up and turned her over. Her blue eyes were soft and open now. "All right, sailor," was all she said. Her face had a dazed, smashed love look to it. He kissed her tenderly on the mouth and felt her tongue accept him. At least for short moments in her life, Jeanie the lesbian had given over to male sex and love...
Henry heard a noise and turned towards the door. A woman had appeared there as if by magic. She was slim, dressed in a fancy robe, and had buttery red curls. She held a strange device in her hands, a squared off looking box with a flashlight on top. He sensed the menace of it and dived for his knife.
Too late! She had evidently pressed a button, there was a small flash and two long wires with barbs shot out to hook into his naked body. Immediately electric current along the wires locked his muscles. Henry strained, bug-eyed, as the electric gun deprived him of all power of movement.
"Like my Taser?" smiled Angela Locksley, and pressed a button, sending jolt after jolt into his body through the wires fishhooked into his skin. He groaned and went down, feeling his mind battered into darkness.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Henry came to, he was bound, hand and foot, still naked. He was stretched out on a table, high up in a strange auditorium. He knew it had to be the interior of the Church of Pagan Rites.
Someone was fooling with his cock. "Don't do that!" he said.
"Why not? You use it a lot." It was the slim, red-headed woman who'd shot him with the strange electric gun in Jeanie's bedroom. Angela Locksley, the fake historian with the cute butt. She seemed to be using some sort of perfumed oil on his peter and it felt good. His cock rose slowly. He felt tired, played out, but the oiled, smooth hands of his captor were--interesting.
"You shot me!" he said.
"Yes. A Taser. Fifty thousand volts when I press the button. Used against muggers and burglars. The wires explode by gunpowder and the barbs stick in your skin. Then I press the button and you get frozen, and not by sex! I don't like guns."
"Yes, and poor Jeanie is asleep. You seemed to have taxed her sex to the utmost. I think she'll sleep well, thank you."
It was weird. Here he was tied up and helpless on this stage--couch--no, altar. But instead of scourging him, the woman played with his cock which was beginning to stand up hard. What a crazy house this was!
"Jeanie told me a few things about you, Henry Harper. Then I called up Maria Carvo, although it is very late, and learned some more things. I know a lot about you."
Henry sighed and relaxed. The skin of his cock was a little sensitive, but in her soft hands it strained, huge and red, at the end of his belly. It seemed perfectly natural in this house that he lie there tied up, with a beautiful woman jacking him off.
She was no Jeanie Fielding, but she had a refined beauty that was attractive. He especially like her mouth, long, sensitive, friendly, It actually curved when she smiled. Her irises were a peculiar deep color, her nose uptilted. She wore a robe of dark material like a priest, but it hung open and he could see her cleavage, her white skin, a flat, sexy belly and belly button. From his tied position that was all he could see.
He thrust up in a preliminary sex throb to her hand. Clear preseminal fluid oozed out of the swollen cock. She palmed it off his cock head with a natural gesture and rubbed it on her cheek.
"Liquid silk!" she said.
He watched the wet gleam of the crystal stuff on her cheeks as it gleamed before drying. He began to feel hot. He thought about Maria with her lovely olive skin--Jeanie with her deep tan, and now here was this beauty with bare skin as pure white as English bone china. Amazing!
Angela reached under her robe, fumbled, and brought her hands up, wet from her cunt. She laved his prick with her cunt juice, while he rose off the table in pleasure at the feel of the slick, warm fluid. "I like that."
"I like cunt sauce and cock sauce," she smiled. She blew on his cock, her attractive mouth an inch away from the cock head. His cock throbbed in appreciation, vainly strained for her mouth.
"No, no," she laughed.
She picked up a soft white feather. While he held his breath she tickled the end of his cock with the feather. The light sexy feather made his cock strain deliciously some more, and Henry felt his balls begin to produce fuck juice.
"Jesus, I'm ready to fuck again!" he cried.
She smiled politely, stooped, and he could tell she slid out of her panties. She hadn't been entirely naked after all. She held them up for him to see. They were peach-colored bikinis, sheer and dainty. There was a stain at the crotch. Apparently Angela had a juicy, healthy cunt.
"I never have sex with men," she said. "Or women. I study sex in others, that's all. Please tell me about the Aztec idol." She crushed the sheer panties over his cock and continued to jack him off. The movement of the sexy material was a weird trip, especially when he felt the wetness of her fluid on them. A tease, dammit!
He forced his mind away from his hot cock and the compelling friction of her sexy panties. "It's mine, I want it!" he said. He told her about the deal he'd had with Jose Carvo, Maria's father, and how the man had double-crossed him. There were interruptions--as he reacted with surges to the gentle, teasing masturbation she practiced on him, warm fingers active through sheer panties. But he got the story out.
She stopped her erotic labors to bend down to some compartment in the underpart of the couch he was on. She came up with his statuette in her hand. There was no doubt about it. It was the same ugly little jeweled bastard that had brought so much grief into his life. It was supposed to be the Prince of Love, but with the Aztec grotesqueness, it looked to Henry more like the Prince of Fuck. It was seven or eight inches high, shaped like a penis and the obscene face laughed. It was made of gold, but not solid. It was the glitter of jewels that made it sparkle and it was the jewels that made it expensive. He'd paid twenty thousand dollars for it, but he knew that here in L.A. it would easily sell for a half million. There was only one statuette like it in the world--here it was!
"Untie me, Angela. Give it to me. I'll be on my way."
She shook her head. "We'd need more proof that it belonged to you, Henry. It's quite valuable." She began to stroke it with perfumed oil.
"It's mine! I've got to have it. I need the money for my daughter. It's my only chance to save her."
"Your daughter?"
"I was married to a lovely Chinese girl in Hong Kong. I left the sea; settled down. We had a daughter and she was the pride of our lives. God, I loved my women! But Nanki had ties to Communist China. There was a minor official there wanted her. He kidnapped my wife, kidnapped my daughter--took them inland."
Those peculiar irises studied him. "And the idol?"
"The communists like money in spite of what they say. For a hundred thousand dollars I can bring my daughter out. Not Nanki--she's lost to me forever. But that young girl is my flesh and blood! Listen, Angela--I'll risk prison, police, everything to get that girl back! You can't stop me--none of you will!" He strained against his bonds, getting angrier.
She backed up in retreat against his fury. "Perhaps we shall give it to you after all."
"I'll get it!" he roared.
She stepped forward, slipped the oiled figurine beneath his buttocks. It was into his gut before he realized what she was doing. "Ohhh. OH!" he screamed in pain as she forced it up his asshole. She was giving him his idol all right--all painful eight inches of it. "No. Don't Stop!" he begged.
There was just enough grease so it didn't tear his flesh, but the rough, jeweled surface roweled his intestine. He jerked helplessly as everything went yellow for him in gouts of pure pain. He cursed at her, straining to get free of the sting of it. But Angela gently but forcefully worked the statuette up his gut all of the way. It felt like he'd been had with a hot poker.
"There, you have it," she said sweetly. She jiggled the base of it, so he felt its presence deep in his body.
"No, don't. Stop!"
She shrugged, slid the idol out of him and he felt great waves of relief, his asshole throbbing pleasure at its going. She stood there watching his face; then she brought the figurine up to her chin, the long sensitive mouth opened, and her pink tongue began to lick it slowly and carefully, as if she were eating an ear of corn.
Amazed, he said "You're totally insane."
Her eyes still upon him, she mounted the couch and stood over him. Now she let the robe fall around his feet. She stood over him, slim, beautiful. Her cunt juice made her inner thighs glisten. She spread her legs and slid the idol slowly up her cunt. He saw her belly muscles quiver as she took herself with it. Angela had a small cunt. It must've spread her lips painfully but she slid it in and out a few times.
"I find it pleasant," she told him. Then she flicked some switch on the side of the couch. Immediately slow, primitive music filled the chamber. Angela got a dreamy look and her hips began to sway. She brought her hands up from her cunt, holding the idol in her snatch by her cunt muscles alone.
Henry watched all of this with absorbed interest. Everything so far had been sexy, but what happened next was even more exciting. The idol began to ream her cunt as if managed by an invisible hand. The strength of her cunt muscles was so great that she could suck it in at will. It was the most remarkable--and exciting--act Henry had ever seen in all his wide travels.
"Jesus God!" he said. In and out. In and out. In and out.
"Henry?" There was a dew of sex sweat on her face, her chest, her belly.
"Ye-yeah?" His gut ache had ceased. Now it was his cock that ached--for her incredible chamber.
"I love your idol," she said. "I can never p-part with it!"
He wanted to shove the idol clear into her stomach with his own prick and get a ride in that muscled chamber. He groaned.
But now her act was ending. The swift flow of her juice was making her idol-fuck impossible. Each time if slipped faster than she could stick it up inside of her. She tensed her whole body to hold it, but sloooowly it slid out before Henry's hypnotized eyes.
Smack! It fell on his nude belly, slick and hot with her body juice. Henry thought he was going to come.
"Angela--to hell with the idol. Fuck me--please--Oh, I want that cunt. God, girl, I'd die for your cunt!"
"People beg," she sighed. "I can't help them. I was married once and it was a disappointment. I haven't touched a man since."
"Angela. Please! I'll do anything to fuck you."
"Anything?" She jumped nimbly down from the couch, picked up the idol and rubbed her wet stuff sexily on his stomach.
"God! Anything. Anything at all!" He'd never wanted a vagina so much in his entire life.
"I could give you an orgasm, Henry. It would be the greatest of your life. I'd hypnotize you a little. The only trouble is--it will cost you your life."
"I don't care. I'll die anyway if I don't fuck you. I've got to!"
"Your life, Henry. Your heart won't be able to stand it. No man has ever dared it with me."
He studied her eyes now. They were an unusual purple, in the coloring of her irises. That odd combination, along with the rest--he couldn't help himself.
"Fuck the risk, Angela. I'll pay any price to get between you legs.
She smiled at him, her long lips curling. "I see few men like you, Henry. Few with desire like yours."
"Angela," he said. "Quit talking. I'm hot."
She stood before him, a slim red-headed goddess, naked and proud.
"You'll have to put yourself in my hypnotic power. Let me have your mind. That's where all sex is finally felt anyway."
"Will I have my come?"
"The most incredible a man ever had. It will tear your heart out. But you'll have had the finest."
"Then shit on my heart! I want you! Now!"
She shivered and a little saliva ran out of her mouth. "God in heaven!" She sucked in her breath. The jeweled idol flashed in her hands, the sparkle dazing his brain. "Relax, listen--" Her voice went on and somewhere off an enormous, solemn bell tolled--beautiful reverberations, Henry could no longer hear her voice, only see that magnificent, slim body--the flashing pure light that poured love and desire into his brain...
"Henry!" Her voice was far-off. "One last chance--save yourself--"
"Go on! he cried. "Now!"
Suddenly everything focussed in clear reality. As if in slow motion he saw her mount his hips above the eager, stretching dong. The slow motion made it even more delightful. Gently her white thighs parted, sloooowly she slid down on his cock, impaling herself. He saw his cock punch through the glossy red pubic hair, punch through red cunt lips, and then he felt body heat as his rich-nerved cock head passed into her cunt.
The greatest part of it was his feelings also took place in slow motion. The grand, out-opening pleasure of fuck friction echoed slowly in his animal being and his soul, matching the tolling of the ominous bell. Her sex mastery made it possible for him to enjoy each sensation completely before the next one started.
Oozing, oozing, oozing with infinite pleasure of cunt possession, until his cock head touched the wall of her womb. He saw also in slow motion the effect of his massive cock on her slim channel. That gorgeous face twisted in sex agony as he forced open her cunt to its limits, her expression caught in slow motion, like a football player agonizing on a TV screen.
He felt the danger. His heart beat was slow, but it was getting faster while everything else stayed slow. His breathing was getting faster, also, which meant his body was under tremendous pressure.
He could see her face clearly now. He saw that her irises were a lovely purple. He'd never seen such an unusual coloring, and his delight at it, made him want to fuck her, own her, cock dominate her even more.
Belly filled with his cock, she leaned forward, placing her hands delicately on his chest. She shifted her slim thighs inside his so that she could exercise her strong cunt muscles. As she began to pull, and suck, and then release his cock as she'd done with the idol, Henry felt absolutely mad with sex happiness. It was all in slow motion, and she did not move her butt, nor he his. All the action was in her enormous cunt squeeze, hot fluid pouring around his massaged prick--and all in exquisite slow motion.
"Ahhhhhhh--oohhhhhhh," was all that he was capable of. No love slave had ever served a master better. His orgasm would certainly hurl him into infinity-- Then with a shock of presentiment as to what would happen, he began to thrust up into her. He was going to burst out of slow motion time into hot real time and come and shatter his nerves and burst his heart.
And he didn't care. He gave a great shout of triumph as he began his finally ride, things speeded up, his sensations got wilder, faster, richer, and the girl continuously moaned and struggled at the enormous power of his cock punishing her clitoris. He broke her cock-milking action, so that finally she moan-grunted and just held her cunt tight-locked for his domination.
He plunged in, again and again, each sexy thrust like taking a virgin. She went into orgasm now, victim of his careless, fear-free plunges, submitting to his cock with involuntary squeezes of pleasure.
"Uh.Uh. Uh. Uh," was her continuous bleat.
Those orgasm throbs were sexier than her muscle massage. Henry rose, his heart thundering in his chest, his breath whistling. He rose high, high, high, and then higher.
Sex lock.
"OH, GOD!" he screamed and his first hot bullet of flaming pleasure struck her womb wall. Then his body organized to pay off into her and pain began to mingle with pleasure, pink sex delight, yellow pain, darts in his chest, to match darts from his cock.
Going, going, going... Ahhhhhhh, there'd never been a spend like this on the earth. A searing pain in his chest. Then a few feeble final spurts and he was done, wrapped in bliss, sated and stilled--but the pain in his chest grew, grew, grew. Henry Harper had finally found--and exceeded--his limits. Everything burst into blackness.
CHAPTER FIVE
Another day had passed and Maria Carvo had gotten at least part of her revenge for the arrogant theft of her virginity.
Henry Harper, the sailor, was dying of a heart attack in the Clifton Heights Medical Center. Angela had hinted at it on that late night call last night. Vicki, Maria's roommate, confirmed it. Vicki was now on special duty at the clinic with him all day today and tonight and had said his end was near.
Now Maria approached the Locksley House with fear and yet a definite attraction. Night had fallen; the brutish mansion looked even more sinister than before to the trembling girl, now that she'd experienced some of its horrors. But it held the answer to her future.
Yes! With Henry dead, his search for the Aztec idol was over. He'd said it belonged both to him--and her father. Now with both men gone, the Aztec idol belonged to her. And oh what a difference it would make in her life.
Always poor--her father poor too, her father always under the thumb of the Locksleys, she'd despaired of ever having real money for a decent life. Now through Angela she'd found out the Aztec idol was worth a half million dollars--and it was all hers! Angela never lied about money; she cared nothing for it.
Maria could see the idol. With the proceeds she could head for Mexico and live as a rich, rich woman in a land where she had citizenship and belonged. To be poor in Mexico was worse than being poor in the United States, But to be rich in Mexico -- ahhhhh!
She'd marry her fiance, John, and take him along, of course. He always did what she told him. But first she had to brave the Locksley House once more to squeeze her rightful property from those people.
Maria faced Jeanie Fielding in one of the downstairs rooms of the gloomy mansion. It turned Maria's stomach to tackle the over-sexed lesbian who had ruthlessly violated her body, but it must be done.
"I've come for the Aztec idol," said Maria, quelling the trembling in her legs.
"Have you now?" Jeanie's lascivious interest in Maria's body had been obvious from the moment she opened the door. "I thought rather you'd come to have your beautiful snatch eaten by one who adores you." The woman smiled while Maria recoiled. For the first time she noticed that Jeanie had one of her strong white teeth missing from the upper row, left, and that smile was more evil than Maria remembered it.
"The idol is mine," said Maria. "It belonged to my father and the sailor. Now they're dead. I want the idol."
"I want your luscious cunt!" said Jeanie. She got up and advanced on the girl. "I want your sexy body so much I can think of nothing else."
Maria jumped up, whipped her revolver from her purse. She'd carried it since yesterday. "The idol, Miss Fielding!"
Jeanie grinned and kept on advancing. "Foolish girl, you wouldn't dare shoot."
Maria fired past her ear. The shot stunned them both, and it brought Jeanie to a halt. The housekeeper didn't know that Jose Carvo had bought the gun for Maria and trained her with it against the day the homicidal sailor would show up. Maria was not good with it, but then she wasn't bad either. She could use it. Up until three days ago she'd avoided the gun as she'd avoided thinking about the sailor. But then she'd been a frightened virgin. She was no longer such a gentle being.
"You'll go to prison for life if you shoot me," said Jeanie.
"Not so, Miss Fielding. My body still has whip marks on it. My story about what you did to me would end your vile life here--maybe end the Church and everything for the Locksleys. The law isn't as corrupt as this house. There are decent people in Clifton Heights who'd like to get rid of Locksley House and what it stands for. I've heard them talk at the hairdresser's. Once that group had a hard case on you, they'd smash you and protect me."
"Well, now," said Jeanie. "You're an impertinent little bitch since you've got a little hot fucking under your belt. I don't mind; it makes you sexier than before."
"Never mind that. Just take me to the Church--and the idol." Maria held the revolver steadily on the head of the housekeeper.
Jeanie shrugged and led her into the hated Church of Pagan Rites. Up to the altar--still with those obscene wax figures getting ready to screw. But as Jeanie reached down into one of the compartments, closely watched by Maria, Maria's domination ended.
There was a whisper of wheels on the carpet as Phil Locksley came up behind her, struck her gun arm with his cane. The gun exploded and dropped to the floor as Maria cried out in pain. Jeanie seized her at once.
Of all the inhabitants here, Maria feared Phil Locksley the most. He was a large man with dark, glistening hair and a severely aquiline face. His thick lips showed self-indulgence, his eyes were dark and cynical. Maria knew there was nothing wrong with the man's legs, nor did he need a cane. He lived in the wheel chair to be waited upon, to show his contempt for the world of work. He always wore a dress suit, day or night, to further state his indolent status.
Now he grinned lewdly as Jeanie Fielding undressed Maria. "What a pretty body John's girl has," he said.
"The better to fuck her tits off," said Jeanie. Already her hands stroked Maria's charms as she forcibly stripped her.
"We've settled the sailor. We must fix this one too." Phil used his cane to jab at Maria's cunt and hit it painfully a few times, too. Twisting in the grip of the dominant woman, Maria cried in her despair. She was horrified that she'd fallen into the power of these evil two.
"We'll keep her here a few days as a fucking machine," said Jeanie. "After we're done with her, I expect she won't make any more trouble for us. Ahhhhh!" Jeanie had handcuffed Maria's wrists behind her and was now free to plunge two rough fingers into the girl's cunt.
"Mind if I watch?" asked Phil.
"You can help," said Jeanie. "Introduce her to the Aztec idol she thinks so much of."
Phil chuckled, reached down and produced the figurine. Meanwhile, Maria wept softly and it wasn't all for their torture. Jeanie's kisses, Jeanie's hot fingers set her skin, her whole body on fire. Her cunt flowed furiously. It was fantastic sexually to be scared, and to be bound by these dominators. She felt weakly, deliciously sexual.
There were no preliminaries like before. Jeanie undressed, lie on the couch and roughly pulled the manacled Maria to her knees over her body. Maria was forced to kneel with her head captured between Jeanie's strong thighs, with pungent fumes from Jeanie's hot box reeking in her face.
"You will suck-fuck me!" Jeanie commanded, and forced Maria's head into her muff. Maria's heart throbbed, her own cunt flowed in excitement at the tight sex-lock. Now Jeanie's cunt possessed Maria's mouth and nose. Maria could hardly breathe.
"God! My beautiful fuck slave! Oh, I want your tongue. Fuck, fuck, fuck!" cried Jeanie in rapture. Before Maria had been shocked by sexual excesses. She was no longer that shockable. It excited her to feel that hot eager body surging at her mouth. In fact, Maria felt faint with desire, and knew that the lesbian had unlocked deep, primitive hungers in her Indian being. Maria was of the Aztec blood that fucked, killed their enemies and ate their flesh in civilized fastidiousness.
Maria began to pant and hot-suck the dominating woman, letting her inhibitions go. She slobbered on the rich-flowing cunt, she felt intense pleasure in her own thrilled guts.
"Oh, oh, oh," cried Jeanie in rising transport. "My sl-slave. Machine fuck!"
Maria had forgotten Phil behind her. He hadn't forgotten her. At this point he joined the action by shoving the Aztec idol to Maria's asshole and violating her tenderest part. Heart-sickening fire roared in her most private passage.
Maria lifted her head from Jeanie's slush and gave a cry of agony that started at her toes and echoed off the top of her head--
"Oh, no, God!" Her tortured, humiliated pain cry reverberated in that little girl howl. The idol ruthlessly raped open her small backhole while she continued to gibber and weakly moved her buttocks in her wounding.
Which delighted Phil. "Take it, bitch!" he grunted and drove the vile visitor up, up, up--deeper, deeper!
Ah, God! Maria quite forgot Jeanie with this fire-torch violating her anus. But Phil knew more tricks. Deftly, the sex connoisseur fitted his cane to Maria's empty cunt and probed for her clitoris. Dainty as Maria was, she had a large sex nerve and he found it easily. Ugh-ah! Hot flames of pleasure began to ride over the pain in her butt. It was incredible, this pleasure-pain thing going on between her back and her front, but Phil kept chugging her, giving her double action.
The ass-pain died to a burn and then to a fullness that was not unpleasant. Even as she knew he'd made her hole take all of it. The cane tip riding her cunt brought an impossible flood of good feeling into her lower body. All of the sex excitement was too much for Maria. She fucked the cane tip like a jaguar in the jungle, gasping and humping, feeling the golden wonder of the coming sex payoff. Phil cheered wildly.
Meanwhile, a deprived Jeanie whined at the interruption of her own sex trip. No matter! Maria gave an unladylike pig grunt and delivered her sex to Phil. He slid out the idol at her climax.
"Uuuuuuuu!" went Maria. "Her ass is winking at me!" cried Phil in delight watching the handcuffed girl grovel and stiffen in spasmodic afterjerks of pleasure.
"Goddamn it, Phil!" roared Jeanie at him. "You spoiled my girl-suck."
Phil kept on laughing. "Try this!" he cried. He thrust the end of his cane, still wet with Maria's sex fluid into Jeanie's steaming cunt.
"Owwwww!" Jeanie grabbed the dark stick, while Phil, in rapture, fished for--and found--the second clitoris that his cane sought. The cane grazed Jeanie's hot spot causing her to sit up in sharp attention. Safe to one side in her sex glow, Maria chuckled herself to see the lesbian impaled on the cane.
The tug of war started now, Phil to hold the cane in Jeanie's gut and work her, Jeanie to force it free. Jeanie was a strong woman, but Phil had huge muscles from wheeling his wheel chair. Jeanie grunted and thrashed around the wounding cane, while Phil's arm trembled as he held it to its job.
"Damn you! Damn you!" shouted Jeanie.
"You're fucked!" was Phil's grinning answer. She was, it seemed. She fell back heavily like a defeated wrestler and, her breath sobbing, began to take the stick. Phil curled his tongue and strained to get good play on the woman's clit. Jeanie's eyes began to bulge in delight. Now she directed the stick instead of fighting it, fucking up to its prodding, wetting the black end with her body gloss. Maria watched fascinated. Jeanie suddenly started her whine.
"Uh, oh, oh, goood. God!" She tensed up to the cane and paid off for Phil, mouth wide as she gulped air, loins rolling in pleasure, "ah, ah, ah, ah!" Then Jeanie fell back, spent.
These beasts, thought Maria, even torture each other with violence to get their sex kicks.
CHAPTER SIX
They had locked Maria in a basement room and left her for the night. To be sure, it was not a dungeon exactly because there was a small, severe bath attached, and the bed was comfortable. There were overhead pipes which were ugly, but it was no more than a maid's basement room left over from the days when large houses had many servants. There was no hope of escape because the bar was on the outside of the door.
Maria felt depressed but there was a ray of hope. Someone had mentioned that John Jefferson, the chauffeur, her fiance, would return tomorrow. He was as straight and honest as the others were twisted. It was unthinkable that he'd leave her in their power. Maybe there were two rays of hope. The other was Pat--Patricia--Locksley, the real master of the household. Phil's wife had been a former Miss Beauty America, and was as bright as she was beautiful. She'd parlayed a model's career into a successful cosmetics company, then married Phil and taken over.
Pat tolerated her indolent husband, the housekeeper and her sister-in-law, but money was her god and it was unlikely she'd let the evil three do anything to Maria that would involve danger to the Locksley name.
But her captors were not yet done with her. About midnight the indefatigable housekeeper came sneaking into Maria's room "for a midnight snack". Maria felt less terrorized now by the woman's body or even her privates. Maria was more worried about her own response to the woman's harsh love.
Maria was almost grateful when Jeanie skinned down her jeans, forced her across her lap and spanked her. It was embarrassing, it stung like fury, but it angered her, and her anger was her best protection against the dominating woman.
To her surprise, when Jeanie began to suck her, the soft bum in her buttocks increased rather than diminished her sexual pleasure. It was a surprisingly seductive foreplay. Nevertheless, Maria gave herself to the housekeeper as soon as possible, having only a mild orgasm, to Jeanie's disappointment.
"Today's girls take sex like going to a movie," Jeanie complained. "They just sit there." She didn't make Maria lick her. "I'd rather masturbate," she said archly.
She went on with her lecture. "It was different when I was a young girl. Phil's father spanked me a hundred times if he touched me once. He taught me everything I know about whipping. He fucked me so hard I couldn't stand the sight of a man's prick for years."
Jeanie wiped away a tear. "Those were great days, Maria, and they're gone, and here I'm not yet forty!" She went to the door and paused. "I'll tell you something. That sailor of yours has possibilities. He's mean!" She shuddered. "When it comes to discipline, he has the touch of the old masters." She went on out and slammed the door, barring it, obviously disappointed.
Some hours later, as Maria dozed, Angela visited her. She brought Maria a cup of hot chocolate and said she must "wash Maria's face". Which she proceeded to do, to Maria's astonishment, by using her own pink tongue. "It's such a lovely face," breathed Angela, laying satin strips of saliva across Maria's features. When Angela dug her tongue into Maria's eye sockets, the tickle and the slurp sounds excited Maria more sexily than Jeanie's rough hand on her clitoris.
Angela wiggled her tongue in Maria's ear holes and the impertinent flirting made Maria laugh--and shiver. Then Angela began to kiss Maria softly on the mouth, never demanding, quite sisterly. Maria liked the long, sensuous curves of Angela's lips, the sweetness, and she liked that hypnotic voice. It soothed her; brought romantic pictures into her mind.
Kissing, they sank into a murmuring intimacy that Maria felt was too gossamer to be shattered by crude sex actions. To her surprise, Maria found herself the aggressor. Angela's lips looked red and swollen from the tease kisses, and Maria carefully took Angela's face into her hands and kissed the mouth more hungrily, wanting to get her tongue in past those sly lips.
Their saliva had thickened to the consistency of warm honey, and Maria felt a traitor to the breathless moments because her cunt below had swollen and wetted. The rise of her sexual tension made her breathe faster and swallow often. At last Angela shyly admitted Maria's eager tongue to her mouth and permitted Maria to savor the hot arch of her mouth's roof, wash her teeth, gentle-suck her tongue.
Juice. Men or women. That was all they could ever really give each other in this world, thought Maria. The juices manufactured in my body given to another. It seemed a sacrilege, but Maria broke the silence. "I want--I want--" Angela yielded a small amount of her juice which Maria greedily swallowed, hoping for more. But now Angela reached down and delicately parted Maria's cunt lips. Something hard and foreign slipped past her entrance.
"The name of this little guy is Xochipilli," said Angela in her hypnotic voice. "A god of your Aztec ancestors, Maria. Patron of dancing, games, love--the spring. Prince of Flowers--"
Maria hadn't even realized the woman had brought the Aztec idol. She held her breath. She trembled. Angela passed the figurine slowly up her hot cunt, distending her, the jeweled surface setting her clitoris on fire. It was the same object Phil had so roughly jammed up her rear hole. At this moment in the clever hands of this woman it made her thrill in ecstasy.
"Squeeze him, Maria."
Maria tried to squeeze him with her vaginal muscles. She felt sweat under her armpits, a growing glow in her loins. Angela moved down her body dabbing Maria with her tongue, easing the idol into her. "Squeeze, squeeze!" Maria did so and felt her heart begin to thud. Still the enchantress held her in her glossy web of intrigue.
Slowly, slowly, Angela worked the cunt lips till she found Maria's clit and then gently pressed her pink tongue on it, capturing it between her dab of meat and the idol.
"Ah, God!" breathed Maria softly. She thought she'd faint in deep sex involvement. "Squeeze!" called Angela. The slim redhead urged Maria over on her belly, though Maria hated to move for fear of breaking the spell. Her cunt had now fully engorged the statuette.
At the first touch of Angela's tongue on her bottom, Maria thought she would faint. She was already breathing fast and tensing her buttocks as she squeezed. She felt Angela's tongue burrow into her crack. It dived down between her round mounds like a live bird fluttering. Maria stopped breathing in anticipation. Deep in her seam she knew there was girl-sweat and girl love juice. As well as a slightly torn and battered hole where Phil had drawn blood.
Angela parted Maria's buttocks and carefully swept her tongue along to collect and swallow juices, coming closer, closer to Maria's tender pucker. "Squeeze," said Angela lifting her head and then Maria whimpered "Ang-Angela!"
The tongue met her sphincter and Angela first sucked then pressed a bit of her tongue into Maria's asshole. The rich nerves at the private entrance carried flashing messages of pleasure to Maria's brain.
"Uh-uh-uh-uh!" she whispered. The idol in her cunt, the tongue in her hole. Maria barely felt her freeze but the orgasm was gigantic. She throbbed in mad delight, spending off her sex tension as she never had before in her life. Big, strong throbs that made her legs jerk. Oh, it was wonderful to give herself up to sex death so completely! This was LI-VI-NG!
In her rapture, Maria faintly heard Angela go "Oh," and knew that her lesbian partner had rushed to glory with her. The full, rich spasms couldn't last, though Maria wished they'd never end. They tapered, softened, as she fluttered down. Down into spent languor. She felt the idol slide out of her vagina at Angela's tug. She barely felt Angela's parting hug and final kiss--then she was alone in her taken glory.
Drugged with the excitements of the evening, Maria didn't move off her stomach. Dreamily she supposed that Phil would come next and fuck her. But he did not. She drifted into a sweet sleep trapped in a basement room of the hated Locksley House.
* * *
It was noon the next day. John Jefferson, her fiance was finally here. Tall and handsome, broad-shouldered and smiling, right here in Maria's prison room.
"Oh, Johnny--Johnny--" She rushed into his arms and he hugged her. The feel of his strong body sent her heart leaping with joy. "Maria!" he cried.
"So much has happened, dear Johnny! They've made me a prisoner. They've used me--sexually. Oh, it was a nightmare--"
He kissed her on the cheek. "There, Maria, it's all a misunderstanding. This ridiculous Aztec idol--"
"It's mine, Johnny, It's ours! We can sell it--have enough money to get married, leave this horrible Clifton Heights."
"Maria!" he was shocked. "It's not ours!"
"It belonged to my father--the dead sailor, and now it's ours, don't you see."
He shook his head firmly. "No, Maria, it's Locksley property."
She pulled back. "Johnny, dammit, listen to me. I've been through hell because of it. We need to take it and get out of here."
"Where did you ever get such a word, Maria? Where's my innocent, tender baby? You've changed, Maria."
Well, there was a lot to tell her hero. She must be patient. "Just get me out of here, Johnny. We can talk about it later."
The door of the room opened and Phil Locksley wheeled in. "Yes, Johnny. What about getting your fiance out of here?"
John turned to Maria in embarrassment. "They -- want you to stay a few days, dear."
"Johnny! They've beaten and whipped me. They've made me perform sexually for them! You must get me out of this horrible house!"
"Take off her clothes," ordered Phil.
"What?" said Johnny.
"I'm tired of this little tit's arrogance," said Phil. "Sending thugs to beat our housekeeper. Forcing her way in here with a gun to steal our Aztec antique. We must teach her a lesson. Undress her." John blushed. "I--can't, Mr. Locksley."
"It should be a pleasure, John boy. In a year's engagement you've never seen her naked, have you?"
"Johnny, don't listen. Save me--"
Jeanie Fielding appeared at the door, came to Maria's side. "Maybe I can help," she said, seizing Maria. Maria screamed. Now it was up to Johnny, up to her hero to waste them. Beat them. Get her out of here.
All that happened was that Johnny stood there, blushing and stammering. "I don't think--we should take off her clothes."
"They're off," said Jeanie matter-of-factly. "Doesn't she have a lovely body, lover?" Maria was too fascinated watching John to hamper the woman. Jeanie now produced steel handcuffs from her waist, raised Maria's arms and locked them to the overhead pipes. Now Maria stretched out in front of them humiliatingly nude and having to stand on tiptoes the way she was trussed. She was so shocked at Johnny's confusion that she made no protest at all. Let her lover see how vicious they were!
"Come here, Johnny," ordered Phil. "I don't think it's right--" Johnny cried. He was blushing, and not once had he objected, nor would he look at Maria's nakedness. He moved in front of his boss. Phil reached into his crotch. Maria stared in horror.
"Johnny, he's--"
"Shall we show her the facts of life, Johnny?" smiled Phil. He broke John's zipper and before Maria's horrified eyes brought forth her lover's cock, half-hard. With unconcern, Phil jacked off the boy to hardness. "Now, Mr--Mr--Locksley," Johnny stammered. "Johnny, he's--he's--" Maria's eyes bugged in shock.
"So I am," said Phil. Still in his wheelchair he bent and sucked the head of John's prick. "I love this stiff, slim little cock." He grinned up at Maria.
Maria thought she would faint. John's cock thrust up with the gleam of the older man's saliva. She saw Phil work the loose skin over the stiff muscle. She saw him bend and ingest the prick, saw Johnny stiffen, his blush of pleasure deepening.
"You see, Maria," cried Johnny, "sometimes we -- I--"
Maria started to faint. Her arms ached, her calves ached from the cruel position. Pure, innocent Johnny, her fiance, was being cocksucked by another man. Had been cocksucked before by him. Phil drooled in pleasure now over the meat of his chauffeur.
Jeanie's hot breath touched Maria's ear as she whispered. "They're queer as a lead dollar. Didn't you know that, my poor innocent lamb." Jeanie's hand slid under Maria's buttocks and fingered into her cunt. Maria began to weep. "Johnny--" and went into a daze.
Maria knew it was a turning point in her life--the end of her innocence. No wonder Johnny had been so moral, upright. That time in the cave--he'd probably been glad she'd refused to have sex with him. His prick, his body, his soul--had never really been hers, and she wept.
But Phil Locksley was excited now by the usage of the younger man's sex. He took Johnny's pants down to his knees, and in spite of herself Maria was fascinated to see Johnny's naked middle from belly button past his thighs. Her lover--lover?--had a nice male ass, she thought.
Phil was now gobbling the cock, and the sight of it, the sound of it, a stronger male using a lesser one, fascinated Maria. Johnny had sputtered over his shoulder at Maria, but Phil had turned him so that Maria could see the whole operation. Johnny hunkered, held his employer's head. "I-I-I--" he gobbled' as his wet cock jabbed in and out of the hungry mouth. Phil made delight sounds in his throat.
Maria felt beaten, defeated, submissive to the whole Locksley scene. She'd been used and blocked at every turn. Now she lifted her loins to Jeanie, who, in her leather outfit, was obviously ready for more Maria meat, stroked her cunt. Maria let the dizzy thrills take her over, let herself sink into her more animal levels. It was bitter and obscenely delightful to see Johnny's humiliation and feel her own sex abused. It was becoming her life!
"Ahhh," she groaned, feeling the hot body, the insistent fingers. "Ohhhh."
Phil's fingers a few feet away closed on Johnny's buttock. His fingers slid in the man's crack. Maria, thrilled, could see that Phil had taken possession of her fiance's ass, and now Johnny was caught in the fierce action between hand and mouth, and was fucking, turned into desiring animal meat.
"Beg-for it!" demanded Phil lifting up momentarily.
"I-I-I--I'm sorry, Maria!" Johnny burst. Then: "Pl-please--fuck--take meeeee. Ohhhh!"
The sexy chauffeur was caught now in the ultimate freeze. He gasped in delight. Then Phil turned his body, hugging his loins. Maria didn't understand for a second. Her fiance faced her, some three feet away.
Spurt! His first silver bullet shot from his cock, struck her naked belly. Splat! She felt the hot sex juice, homosexually tortured from Johnny. Spurt! Spurt! The leaping liquid darts struck her navel, hot, and she smelled male starch and felt the stuff ooze down her belly.
It was too much. Johnny's horrified eyes, Phil's delighted ones. The cock pointing at her like a gun -- the babystuff striking her skin in silken bullets. Plus Jeanie's hand.
"Arrgghhhhhhh!" whimpered Maria and gave up her sex to Jeanie and to Phil and to all of them. She throbbed and spent, twisting helplessly from her arms totally surrendering to the victors who dominated her cunt, her body and her soul.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Despite Maria's belief about Henry, he was not dead yet. In fact he was tucked away comfortably in a hospital bed as the sole patient of Dr. Decker in the Clifton Heights Medical Center, a few blocks from the Locksley House. His constant attendant was Vicki Botsford, Maria's roommate.
He knew his heart had burst at his orgasm in the king of all fucks with Angela. At that time he would've been glad to end his life in that happy glory. But when he awoke he realized that he'd had a heart attack, but that it hadn't been fatal. Therefore if he were careful he might live a while yet.
Dr. Decker was an older geek with a bald head and glasses sitting on the end of his nose. He mumbled a lot; Henry was too exhausted to make out most of what he said: "Mumble, mumble, heart attack, mumble, mumble "complete bed rest." So all Henry had to do was remain very, very quiet.
His problem was Nurse Botsford. That first day she bed-panned him and gave him a patch bath. She seemed to spend an unusual amount of time handling his cock, pulling it this way and that. She wore surgical rubber gloves and Henry felt weirdly sexual as she caressed his sex.
"Heart attack--no excitement," he reminded her.
"What?" She was either hard of hearing or mentally wool-gathering, because she continued to pump his cock, sliding the skin over the hard muscle. It felt very, very good and also frightened Henry because as his cock strained, his heart strained, pumping faster. It was a terrible feeling. Fights, beatings--Henry understood those. But to have his own body, his own heart turned against him, shattered him.
"Stimulation," he moaned to her. "Heart speeds up--dangerous after heart attack." The dumb nurse should know better.
"Oh." Reluctantly she released his cock, gave him a smile, a flirtatious pinch on the prick and left. Gratefully he fell back into his lethargy.
Presently he heard the wicked buzz of medical equipment in the next room. As he drifted off to sleep he chuckled to think how much it sounded like one of those female vibrators--
Henry awoke with a start to find Nurse Botsford masturbating him, secure in her surgical gloves, using slippery, sliding vaginal jelly. His cock tensed and strained and ran in pleasure. Her face glowed with her exertion, her wet tongue stuck out of her mouth.
Pound, pound, pound went his heart. "Stop!" he cried.
"What?" There was a sheen of sex sweat on her forehead.
"My heart!" he cried.
"Oh, your heart," she said. "Well, be that as it may Dr. Decker always takes a semen sample. I'll catch it in this bottle." She showed him her sample bottle and continued to jack him off. Henry squirmed in horror as his heart thudded dangerously in his chest.
"No semen sample! No excitement! Let go my prick, you dumb dodo." He said up and grabbed her offending hands. He thrust her away. "Let's don't get romantic," she told him.
"I want to see the doctor," he said.
"You can't, sir. He only comes in for an hour in the morning."
"If you touch me again, I'll slug you on the jaw!"
"I refuse to stand here and take passes from you while I'm only trying to do my duty," she snapped. She gave him a cold, arched look and marched out of the room.
Henry sighed. This was an erotically mad nurse. He dare not go to sleep again. Trouble was--she wasn't bad looking. Not as sexy as the women at Locksley House or Maria, but in her tight white uniform she showed a good figure and her face wasn't bad. If he got the hots for her, he was done!
Henry dozed--and had a hot, erotic dream. He awoke in a sweat, feeling a wonderful glow in his loins. His heart was pumping like mad. No wonder. Nurse Botsford had his stiff cock in her mouth and was sucking him with crazed fury!
"Oh, no. No, no, no!" he cried, trying to pull back from her eager mouth. He succeeded in breaking the sex lock, his cock gleaming with her saliva. Her face was flushed, her look was animal.
"This won't take long," she promised. "I'm determined to have my semen sample before I go off duty."
"My heart!" he cried. "What kind of a nurse are you, killing me, using me sexually." He tried to rise in the bed and found that she'd tied the restraining straps, used to keep the unconscious from tossing out of bed. "Oh, God!" he said.
She wore surgical gloves, as before, but now she also had a stethoscope around her neck. She listened to his heart. "I've really got you excited," she said proudly. As she leaned over, Henry saw that she'd removed her bra from under her uniform and he could see both her cherry tips of nude breasts bruising into the cloth.
"I've had one heart attack--you're bringing on another," Henry shouted at her, trying to get through.
She delicately took hold of his prick, as she brought her mouth down towards it. "It's risky, I'll admit. But Dr. Decker wants semen samples on all the men who come here. Perhaps it's a local health ordinance. Anyway, none of the men ever object."
"I oh--ohhh!" cried Henry as she dived back on his cock and resumed sucking him.
The good feeling rushed up his backbone and his whole belly lifted to the delicious pressure of her hot mouth. She was clever in using her tongue and teeth. No wonder the men liked to give semen samples! Henry's guts ached to deliver a gush to this rule-happy, sexy nurse, yet as his heart pounded he feared each heartbeat would be his last. He'd never sustained such agony, tom between his loins and his heart. He must think of dull things--peaceful things--force his mind off sex.
"God, I love cock!" Nurse Botsford burst out, releasing his for a moment. "I adore your cock, sir!" Then she resumed gobbling him. That ruined his concentration. A piercing light broke in Henry's mind. Full sex pleasure flowered. He was doomed to come, and when his body locked to freeze his heart would burst as he poured seed into her silly bottle which he saw she held in her hand.
Here it came. "Oh, now," he said. "Oh, now, now." Gasping at the hot mouth demand of the woman, he rose to fuck off in her mouth. "I-I-I--oh, God!" Freeze! Spurt--pound--spurt--pound--it felt so good--he thrust up and spent rich gobs of jism for the nurse. He also began to faint as his heart gave way to the strain, oh--oh. But no. It was over and he lie on the bed still alive in spent delight. His belly was absolutely cleaned of his manhood by the exciting sex. He felt wonderful and by a miracle his heart had not burst this time.
"Well," he said with a relieved laugh. "You've got your damned sample, Nurse Botsford and that's that!" Tomorrow he'd get the doctor to remove this crazy nurse from his case. And no more sex. None! Give his heart a chance to rest for months and months. In the last few days, he'd had a year's worth of sex anyway.
Nurse Botsford smiled at him apologetically. She held out her empty sample bottle. "I'm-uh--afraid I got so excited I swallowed the sample. I felt so close to you--your cock felt so goodd--I do love a powerful spend, you know."
Henry stared at her in horror. Then he began to curse and shout.
"Now, Mr. Harper, remember your heart condition--please stay calm," she said. "If I don't have a date tonight I'll get back later and try again. I'll just leave the restraints on."
As she scurried out he'd just told her that he would cut off her tits and ram them up her cunt.
* * *
Henry lie locked to his bed, thinking desperately. "I've got to save my life--what's left of it, by using my brain. If I get mad, struggle, my heart'll pop and I'll die strapped to the bed. If that dumb, cocksucking nurse comes back to job me, I'll surely die on her next round."
Well, he could still piss, shit and spit the next time she attacked him. That was all he could think of. In the meantime, the best thing to do was to stay calm, calm, calm...
Another gauzy, bright erotic dream! Henry jerked awake, felt himself sweating, felt his heart beginning to pound anew. He also felt deep gut thrills, his cock teased to steel hardness, hot and eager.
Oh, no! Trapped by the wily nurse--too late to piss! But his situation was even worse now. It was too dark--he couldn't see--Blindfolded! There was only a dim strip of yellow light under the cloth that covered his eyes. He opened his mouth to yell -- and found it was already open, biting into a gag so that he couldn't speak. Blindfolded! Gagged!
Henry lie there feeling good and listening to his poor heart thudding in his ears as the horror of his situation grew on him. This clinic was lethal to anyone unlucky enough to get caught in it. They were out to kill him and his helplessness made him furious and sick at the same time.
"I want the first."
"No, I want the first."
Henry was amazed to hear the voices. He knew them both and neither were Nurse Botsford. She must've got her date after all. He recognized the voices of Jeanie Fielding and Angela Locksley.
"Phil's habit is disgusting." That was Angela's voice.
"No worse than yours." Jeanie's voice. "You want the sailor's come for that silly wax man and his wax prick."
"Of course I do," said Angela. "It excites me to have the wax man pour real spend into me. The sailor's seed is rich, heavy and copious. If I cut it with Eagle Brand canned milk, one of his orgasms will last me several days."
"Just the same," said Jeanie, "Phil's needs come first. This man has a cock like a fucking animal. I can almost fill one of Phil's atomizers with one run of his goo. He'll be able to spray his throat with it for days."
"Disgusting habit," said Angela.
"Don't knock it till you've tried it. Cut with a little oil, it makes him high. When he goes down on the young chauffeur it drives them both crazy--to think of cocksucking with another male's jism oiling John's rod and Phil's mouth."
"Sometimes I think Phil a tiny bit perverted," said Angela. But Jeanie didn't answer. Her mouth was savaging Henry's stiff prick, her strong tongue working to release huge thrills of sex in his belly.
"Oh, God. Oh, my heart, my heart!" thought Henry. He struggled, tensed, twisted. The two women were going to use him like an animal for their weirdo semen banks. What humiliation! Nor did they pay any attention to Henry--he might as well have been a vending machine the way they ignored him. Instead they whispered and giggled.
In a moment he found out why. They'd joined forces "to tease out extra crud," as Jeanie put it. That trip was the wildest ever. First Jeanie attacked his cock with her wild, hearty mouth and drove him to animal ferocity with her own crazy eagerness to make him flower. Suddenly she stopped. Then his cock was treated to the gentle, erotic sucking of the delicious Angela who took over his bucking, plunging prick and belly.
She soothed and teased him, stroking his abdomen with her warm hand, blowing on his quivering dick and then dabbing it deftly with her tongue. His cock ached to burst into flowering spurts at her expert touch.
God, how they used him, alternating animal drive with sexy teases. Each in her turn worked a finger into his ass as she sucked so that Henry felt the creamy, dizzy bum of eager female digits brushing his prostate, urging the gland to manufacture more hot, rich fluid. More and More! Yet they were expert enough to prevent his coming. Growling in his throat in sweet agony, twisting, bucking, Henry rose and rose and rose, meanwhile feeling the ominous hammering of his heart.
There was no possible way to survive the massive orgasm he was about to have. Henry actually felt sick in anticipation of the massive blow they'd make him go through. And still they held him just below the golden leap-off into relieving orgasm. He was being driven like the stupid horse cock they thought him to be.
Oh, oh! Exquisite sex torture--the wild Jeanie, the suave Angela, alternating while he rose, higher, higher, higher. God, how he'd fall! His sex machinery was wound so tight now that he began to have convulsions. At that moment a crazed tickle paralyzed his belly. Oh, now, now, now--
He grunted. A poor poetry for the ecstasy that sang in his loins. He felt a lifetime push of desire in his balls--gasping to think of come-things--hot touches--wetness-cunt--tit--wet mouths--asses--smooth flanks--it all flashed in his mind.
NOW! Wham! He felt the first hot bullet hit the condom they'd slapped on his cock. Wham, wham, wham, wham, wham, wham--he was dizzy from his runs. It was like racing down from a great ski run down a glorious slope, rushing, spending, spurting, bursting out his guts in pleased animal grunts and giving up gouts of body-hot seed into their capturing rubber. A dark rush of shuddering pleasure captured him and he fell into a swooning sex death, the best yet in his entire life--knowing it was the last--no human heart could stand those huge shuddering throbs. It was sex death and real death But after a few moments of darkness he was still alive. His entire system was drenched in the relief of this massive spend, and above it he could hear the woman talking.
"That'll do for one," said Jeanie. "Let's give it to Phil. I'll stay and help you collect another. I kind of enjoy it."
Another! Henry groaned.
"We're not using our imaginations," said Angela. "This next time let's try some new tricks. We should be able to tease more out of him. Give him an hour to rest, then we'll really make his prick talk sex talk!"
Their voices moved away and Henry temporarily passed out.
Henry awoke to find the sun streaming into his room and the good doctor peering down at him over his glasses. Henry felt numb below his waist, as if he'd been drained for life. Desiccated.
"Would you like a prostate massage?" asked Dr. Decker.
Henry sat up carefully. He was no longer tied to the bed. "No, doctor, I don't think so," he said, trying to hide astonishment.
"I hope this doesn't embarrass you. But my nurse thinks you're--uh--oversexed and perhaps, well, horny, young man. She says you pestered her all day yesterday for sex relief. Highly embarrassing to an innocent young nurse."
"I could see how that is," said Henry mildly. The Clifton Heights Medical Clinic was something else again.
"Only cost you thirty dollars," said Decker.
"Very reasonable," said Henry. "Very kind of you. However, I don't feel oversexed today. No, not at all. I won't bother her. No, I won't do that." He wouldn't bother her. He wouldn't bother anybody for months, perhaps years. Down below his cock was purple with bite marks and scratches, and his balls were so shrunk it shocked him. Drained? No, gutted was a better word.
But he felt great. He felt like the king of the world. Give them that. Nurse Botsford, Jeanie, and Angela. They'd taken him to the good place, for sure. He said: "By the way, Doctor, what about my heart attack?"
"Pseudo-heart attack. Fake," said Decker. "Happens all the time. Your mind thought it had one, but your heart knew better. You've got the best heart I ever saw come in here. Never saw a better one. Somebody must've hypnotized you into thinking you had a bad heart."
"That's possible," said Henry wiggling his toes in relief and ecstasy.
"You're only problem is sexual shyness. Relax. Chase women. Try to have sex once in a while. It isn't really dirty. That'll solve your problems, young man. Not being so afraid of sex."
"I'll work on that, doctor," said Henry. "I really will."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Patricia King Locksley faced Henry Harper in the Medical Center and Henry knew that all of the foolishness about his Aztec idol was over. This woman was different than all the rest.
She was beautiful, she was bright, she was cold, and in her business way as ruthless as Henry was. Her soft suede pantsuit must've cost hundreds of dollars; the fur carelessly tossed over her shoulder several thousand. Her gaze was the kind that could awe a board of directors. She'd built her cosmetics business into a tremendous success, cutting down the men who opposed her like wheat. She was a near legend.
This formidable opponent stood between him and the Aztec idol. Dressed ready to leave the Clinic, Henry had hoped to interview her on her own grounds, but she'd brought the battle to him. Gotten the jump on him. He watched nervously as the big Locksley car drew up, as this gorgeous creature emerged, disposed of Nurse Botsford with a flick of her wrist and the obsequious Dr. Decker with a toss of her queen-like head.
She came into the room, sat down, lit a cigarette, and stared at him with cold grey eyes.
"I'm Pat Locksley," she said. "I came to tell you I can put you in prison."
Henry hadn't quite expected this opening. "I don't understand, Mrs. Locksley. Your sister-in-law has got something of mine, and I came to Clifton Heights to get it back." In spite of himself his legs felt a little weak under the searching glare of those cold, grey eyes.
"You threatened the life of Maria Carvo and assaulted her," she said. "You entered my house under false pretenses and attacked and sexually violated my housekeeper. My sister-in-law was forced to use a weapon on you, to save the household from bodily harm. These felonies will keep you in prison for ten or twenty years."
"I--"
She raised a manicured hand. "Our deceased employee, Jose Carvo, did, in fact, have possession of a small Aztec art object worth a few hundred dollars which he sold to us--"
"Worth half a million," interrupted Henry. As he studied her face, he felt a rising hope. He might have something yet that would rock this classy, cold woman.
She produced a checkbook from her purse. "I'm a busy executive; I have more important items to attend to than this miserable trifle. In order to save time and avoid lawyer's fees, I'll pay you two thousand dollars to forget the idol, leave Clifton Heights and not come back."
She'd already started to write the check, talking as she wrote. "I doubt that you spent half that for the Aztec idol, but you've had your fun and made a little money. Much butter than going to prison, I should think." She ripped off the check and dropped it on the table, to which she added another paper. "Here's a quit-claim on the figurine." She sat back and smiled up at him. "Take the money and run, sailor boy. Your performance in Clifton Heights just ended."
"Nice speech," said Henry. He was angry now, trying to control himself, trying to deal on her level. He reached into his wallet and produced a small picture, carefully preserved in plastic. "I've got something for you, too." He tossed the picture beside the check and paper. She picked it up, looked at it, and stared at him coolly.
"So you have a very old, blurred picture of a wide-eyed teenager," she said. "So what?" Her mask was perfect.
"I bummed with Jose Carvo for quite a while. He told me an interesting story about when he was young, living in Mexico City. A pageant group brought their American contest winner there on a world tour. They were pushing cosmetics. She was a tough problem for them. She was only sixteen but had conned them into thinking she was eighteen. She had lots of bad habits, and they were scared to death she'd ruin the name of Miss Beauty America.
"In Mexico City she got drunk and jumped her chaperones and fucked the heels off Jose Carvo. She got pregnant--"
It was very still in the room as Henry went on: "Guess what this cold, ambitious kid did? No--I'll tell you. The beauty contest people paid her off and got rid of her when her belly began to swell. This tough kid came back to America, had her baby -- a daughter--and then shipped it down to Jose Carvo, along with money, to raise. The child didn't fit the model's plans for a good life."
"Jose was a drinking man--"
"This picture was very important to Jose--a picture of Maria's mother. He gave it to me as security when we went into the Aztec idol deal. I couldn't bring the idol out. He could--he was a yacht captain. The photo was my claim on him."
"Are you trying to say--"
"I'm saying the girl in that picture was a lousy mother--still is. I'm saying she was you. Apparently nobody in Clifton Heights knows this, including your husband." Henry tore up Pat Locksley's check. He let the pieces flutter to the floor. "I'm not interested in past sins, Mrs. Locksley. I'll trade my snapshot for the Aztec idol, and thank you and leave."
"You couldn't prove--"
"Oh, easily, easily, Mrs. Locksley. May I call you 'Pat'?" The only reason I didn't bring it up to the others before this is that I hadn't seen you or your picture before. As soon as I laid eyes on you I knew I had a deal." Henry slipped the picture back into his wallet. "Why don't we get together at your place this afternoon and settle details? Don't bother to invite me for lunch. I'll get there at two."
Well, the sailor signed his death warrant, thought Pat sadly as she drove back to Locksley House. She would have to kill him. Could she? She shivered because she knew she could--and easily. For eighteen years she'd kept her secret and she wasn't going to give up her position and millions for a two-bit prick like him.
Back at the house, she dismissed the whole crew of them. It would be best with no witnesses except her. Then she undressed, fascinated, as always, by her own beauty. My God, at thirty four she looked as well as at sixteen. Her breasts, her smooth, flat belly--thighs, butt, hips, legs--she was as good as ever, still Miss Beauty America and quite sexy enough to trap the poor, dumb sailor.
She felt sad about Maria. But there'd been no choice back then. Maria would always be taken care of. Pat slipped into her bikini. Verrrrry good! The sailor was all cock, from what they'd said. A little tease--he'd grab--and she'd put a neat little bullet hole in his head.
Out at the pool she dropped the small automatic behind a pillow on the pool lounge. It was a warm day for January; the rain had gone, the California sun was hot. He wouldn't think it odd, meeting her here.
She took the Aztec idol out of her purse, set it conspicuously next to her big bath towel and stretched out. Ahhhh, the sun felt good. She imagined how well she'd look on the witness stand--precise, cool, sorry she'd had to shoot Henry to save herself.
Hired handyman--proven sex offender (testimony of Maria and Jeanie)--sees beautiful Pat Locksley, alone at poolside--goes ape--attacks -- fortunately she had a gun. Oh, she could sell it like she'd sold the million dollar "country look" for her cosmetics firm. No one could ever stop her when she really went into action.
The poor fool didn't realize his ancient picture meant nothing. It was the knowledge locked in his head that was his doom. He was a loaded bomb for her as long as he lived--so he could not live.
A sex machine! She smiled. Sex wasn't sexy. Dollars were sexy. Since the death of Jose Carvo last year she hadn't fucked once. Phil hadn't touched her for five years--her choice. Sex addled your brain, muddled your life--like this poor sailor...
Henry stopped when he saw Pat Locksley at her poolside. Jesus! He'd been thinking of her as the big executive, the class doll--and here was this exquisite body--in a bikini yet. He felt his cock harden. He also felt the danger. The house was too quiet. Her switch was too sudden. But, God, what a body!
She glanced at him, beckoned and then looked away negligently. A deliberate invitation for the man to drool over the sight of her while she wasn't watching him, he thought.
"Take off your clothes, Henry. Have a swim. There're a couple of suits on the lounge."
"Sure," he said thickly. She lie on her face. My God, what an ass! He was getting dizzy in spite of himself. Class impressed him. Class with beauty like this. Wow! He undressed, being careful to slip his knife behind the plastic green cushions of the lounge. If she tried anything funny, he could give her a quick flick and be gone with the statue, sitting right in front of her. He'd be out of town before dark, on his way to Hong Kong. He'd won already!
But his half-stiff prick told him he might get a thrilling bonus. Looking at her body, he felt the crazy surge of his recklessness that always got him in trouble. "If I could fuck that, to hell with the statue! That's a once-in-a-lifetime piece of tail!"
"Would you mind putting the sun tan lotion on my back, Henry?"
He looked at the bottle, he looked at her back, he began to tremble. His cock was hard in his trunks. That was definitely out. "N-no!"
She turned over to look at him in surprise and he almost fainted. Her breasts were the kind you only saw in artists' drawings and he could see her nipples through the sheer wisp of cloth. Down at her V he could see the color of her black bush through her panties. This woman wanted to fuck!
"No? There's nobody else in the house today. Nobody else to do it."
T--I--I--"
She looked at his crotch and her grey eyes were cloudy. "Those trunks don't fit too well." She reached and touched his prick in the trunks. That did it. With a cry, Henry seized her and pulled all that luscious flesh tight to him in one sweep. His hand dived down the back of her panties under her buttocks and found her cunt. He drove his fingers into her lips.
"Oh, my God," she gasped in surprise. Then her words were blotted out by his hot kisses.
"Gotta have it! Got to--nothing like this--Henry raged between kisses. The feel of that warm, naked flesh was stoning his mind.
"Henry--the sofa--not on hard--concrete," she said, caught up by his excitement.
He dragged her to the sofa, losing valuable time getting out of his trunks. His hungry cock popped out into the sunlight--her grey eyes got big. "You're kidding!" she said. He whipped her bikini panties off her hips with an impatient motion. Never in his life had he wanted a cunt so much. He tried to get her legs apart--her cunt was already flowing juice. She went down under him with a cry. She kept her legs closed. His big cock rode her stomach as he grunted--"sorry--got to have--got to--"
He felt something cold at his back. She had her arm back there. He shrugged it off, bent to get her legs open. Wham! He felt the breeze of the bullet from the small automatic go past his shoulder. He reacted without thinking, twisting, hitting her. Her hands flew up.
"You cunt!"
"Shithead bully!" she cried. He tore the gun from her hand and threw it in the bushes. He went for his knife and got it. She stared at him and the knife, their faces close, eyeball to eyeball. Knife in one hand, he used the other to pull her up and walk her to the pool. He needed to say no words, the knife and his tense anger gave her directions.
He walked her down the steps in the shallow end and into the water till it was up to her waist. She shivered once. Her face was almost comical--half shocked, half awed.
"What--are you going to do?" she asked.
He slipped his sharp knife between the lips of her cunt. "This is my water test," he said. "Stand very still. Spread your legs. If the water turns red, we'll know you didn't pass the test."
An inch of the blade was up in her cunt now, easy in the water, riding on her woman's fluid inside her vagina. "Oh my God," she said.
She was very white. He could see the fast pulse at her throat. The tips of her beautiful nipples were hard as knobs. "Are you going to mutilate me?" she asked in a shaking voice.
"Not if I can help it. Not if you don't panic." Another inch. Still another.
"How far up?"
"All the way to the hilt." He kept the blade oozing up her cunt, taking inches.
"Jesus God, Henry."
"Softly. Calmly. We can make it if we try."
She closed her eyes, stood like a beautiful marble statue while the knife sank into her body. They were conspirators, joined tight in a dangerous operation. He felt sweat under his armpits. Her forehead was likewise beaded with sweat.
She felt and he felt the hilt of his knife touch her cunt lips. "Six inches of razor sharp steel up your cunt," he said. "No blood showing in the water." It was an announcement of triumph. "Jesus God," she said. Her hands on his shoulders squeezed. He could tell she was having an orgasm from the knife by the way her eyelids fluttered over those serious grey eyes. She caught her dry underlip in a sob. He stood back from her, cock stiff in the water not touching her. He waited till he was sure her orgasm was over.
"Why did you try to kill me?" he asked.
"Because Phil thinks I'm sterile. I refused to have a child for him. I--showed him a phony medical certificate."
"Dr. Decker?"
"Dr. Decker," she said. "My whole fortune rests on Phil's money as security. It all collapses if he leaves me. He will if he knows I can have children and lied all these years."
"He's homo, I hear."
"He's bisexual. He loves me enough to give up having children. If he knew I'd conned him for eighteen years--that I'm Maria's mother--he'd ruin me."
"What about Jose Carvo?"
"He came to me. Not blackmail. I hired him to run our yacht. We were lovers sometimes. Not often. I'm not much for love, sex, home, children. We got along. Lately Phil prefers men anyway. Jose gave me the idol. He never mentioned you."
"I want it."
"You can have it." She shuddered. "Henry--the knife--"
"It is coming out of its own weight. Can't you feel it? It slips down in your wetness."
She said, little-girl helpless. "It's stuck. The last part won't come out."
His hand was deft and gentle in the water. It closed on the handle. He eased the rest of it out of her body. There was still no blood floating up at them from her V. Free of the knife, she fell heavily against him, half-fainting.
"Incredible," said Henry. "Only once have I seen a woman take a knife without blood." He led Pat from the water. He eased her onto the lounge, tossed the knife aside. He spread her legs. She let him use her like she was a doll.
He fitted his prick to her cunt lips and rammed it up her in one hungry thrust. Hot sucking friction! Her eyes got big and she came at once. "I--can't stop coming," she said in a vexed laugh after her squeezes on his cock stopped. "That knife act--"
He barely heard her. He rode and used her cunt with glorious abandon, thrilling and tensing to her rich beauty. She yielded her mouth to his crude tongue. Her saliva flowed for his delectation. Her nipples burned into the palm of his hands. Her butt thrust up eagerly to accommodate his male thrust into her body.
Henry reveled in his cock domination of the woman, riding, riding luscious sweeps up her body, feeling her endless supply of female lubricant flooding to pleasure him.
"Oh, Henry. Fuck Fuck, fuck. I want it.
"Cold bitch! Hot cunt! Teaser. Ohhh-ohhh". He rode her without mercy feeling the pressure build in his loins.
"Like you, b-b-bastard," she said. "Then "OHHHH." The crazy hot cunt was getting it off again under his prick as she twisted in delight and drove him higher with her spasms.
He never wanted it to end. This was heaven riding the guts out of his classy beauty--turning cold marble to living, sweating meat--breaking into her tender being. Ah, God--it had to end.
"P-Pat."
"Fill me. Burn me!" she cried.
"Ahhh. Ahhh. Ahhh. Ahhh." Everything locked in Henry and he knew at last that love and sex had intertwined finally for him. Each gush was tortured out of his body with sweeping pleasure from a wild openness, small boy to manhood. He spent and spent and spent--every throb a liquid fire of pleasure. He pumped so much seed into her he wondered if her womb would slip from its moorings. At last he was through, his cock sopping and spent in her cunt, his loins glowing and easy and satisfied. She tightened her legs around him and came again! What a goddess of the fuck Pat Locksley was!
CHAPTER NINE
Henry reached out a hand and picked up the Aztec idol. Pat Locksley had put her bikini back on and wrapped herself in a towel to boot. It was the time after sex when one returned to the more mundane feelings of life. He could see, however, the effect of his wild fuck on her--in her subdued manner, in the chapped redness of her lips where she'd taken his rain of kisses, and in her grey eyes. They were softer now, he was sure.
He guessed she could see the power of their fuck on him, too. Well, that was neither here or there.
"Well, I've got my idol," he said, picking it up. Pat made no protest. He was aware that for the first time his prize was at last in his hand. It felt good, good to win, good to know that he now had a small fortune. Now if only--"I don't suppose you still need a handyman," he said, eying her figure.
"I don't think you'd fit into the Locksley House," she said.
He sighed, rose and dressed. She watched him carefully. He felt annoyed, sorry that the contest was over so soon. That terrific body was the greatest love-fuck he'd ever had. God, how she'd responded!
"There's Jose Carvo's job as yacht captain," he said.
"The yacht's in drydock," she said.
"Well, I'll be on my way," said Henry. He waggled the statue at her. She said nothing. "Don't send the police after me," he warned her. "Your husband will find out you can have babies after all."
"You got what you came for," she said. "I won't stop you." She seemed wrapped in post-sex gloom.
"It's for my mother, you know," he said.
"Your mother?"
"Listen, I know it sounds silly. Me a kind of brawling brute. I was away from her all my adult life -- my brother took care of her. Then he flashed me, two, three months ago. She has cancer. Needs expensive treatments he can't afford. I'd never done anything for her--you know how it is. So I really got busy hunting up Jose Carvo. Most of this money -- " there was a catch in his voice--"is for her."
"I know she'll appreciate it. I hope she gets better." Pat's voice was flat, dull.
"Thanks. Well, Mrs.--Pat--I'll see you. Or rather--I guess I won't.
He looked back once. She sat as he'd left her, wrapped in her towel, a frown on her face. Those eyes were private, soft, remote. As Henry made his way back to the Wild Area and the cave where he'd been camping out, he shook his head in sadness. He'd not see the like of her again in his lifetime he knew. Real class. Real beauty. And she just couldn't stop coming when his prick was up in her.
"Well, I see the sailor got the Aztec idol," said Jeanie, coming into Pat's room.
"I decided it was--best," she said.
"I don't blame you; he's a vicious one," said Jeanie. "I guess we've seen the last of him." The two women looked at each other, dreamy-eyed. "Violently unpredictable, dangerous," said Pat. "But not dull," said Jeanie. "Let's give him that." A smile touched Pat's lips. "Dull he was not."
"Angela is flipping out," said Jeanie. "I thought you should know. The idol was terribly important to her. When she found it was gone and I told her you probably gave it to the sailor she was fit to be tied."
"Angela's been getting wilder and wilder. She's better off without it," said Pat. "I don't like her thing about hypnosis. I don't like what she's doing in her church. It could get us into trouble."
"She's gone a little further each year," Jeanie agreed. "Now you're saying it could ruin your big plans. Or do you still have those big plans?"
"Of course." Pat stood at her window with Jeanie as they looked out over the Clifton Heights Wild Area. Those miles of tangled forest and brush were worth millions of dollars. It was the last large segment of undeveloped land in Southern California. When Pat looked at it, she saw vast hotels, high rise apartments, neat little parks, and a shopping center. Fifty million? Easily. She drew a deep breath.
"Don't ever give it up," said Jeanie. "It'd be a great monument to your life." She hugged her mistress. "Wild ones like Angela, like the sailor, come along and muddle things. They make the wrong kind of trouble."
"They also open doors to pleasure."
"Don't I know it!" Jeanie hugged Pat again. "I love Angela. I even liked the sailor a little bit. But when you spend too much time on body pleasures, you never get anywhere. Look at me! My brains, my looks and just a housekeeper."
"Maybe you need a good man," Pat said with a sideways glance at the lesbian.
"God forbid! Men--children--matrimony. A stone weight! At least I don't have that disadvantage." And she left, swinging her hips independently. Wonderful Jeanie! thought Pat. One of the few that isn't fooled and used by men. We're a small sisterhood. Maybe Jeanie was too much into black leather and whips, but at least she stood strongly as her own woman.
And me? I can be had. I have a body. I have feelings, thought Pat. Every few years a man comes along who almost tips me over. I've learned not to fight it, but not to seek it. There's too much power given up in a woman's cock-hunger. My dream comes first--ever since I was a little girl--played in the Wild Area while my father did his job as a gardener for the rich--I wanted to control that land. Make it flower. Then I grew up--did my thing--got money--got power--
The dream is very close to reality. Don't give it up now. Take no chances. There is great danger with the sailor...
Pat slept poorly. She woke once, sighed at the unusual feeling of use in her cunt, and then slept again. She woke a second time with a hot burning in her throat. It really ached. But this was no dream. Someone was in the room with her! She started up, heart pounding, only to feel a big hand cover her throat.
"No sound! No tricks!"
The sailor! "Mmmmm," she went in fright. His knife made her throat bum. She could feel her blood run down from the place where he pressed the point into her flesh. "Talk low," he ordered. Her mouth muffled, she nodded her head, really frightened now by the return of the man. He took his hand off her mouth.
"You cute bitch!" he hissed. "I ought to cut your throat right now."
"What do you want!" she whispered back in a hysterical voice. "You've got your damned idol--
"Yeah. I got it. For a little while." He was doing something in the dark that made her nervous. He was fooling with his pants--down there. "Then your witch friend showed up in the cave. With that crazy electric gun. Wham! She shoots those barbs in me."
Pat's heart sank. Angela! The sailor must've camped out in the cave, and Angela traced him. Henry went on: "When I came out of it, my Aztec idol was gone. The good old Locksley double cross."
She could smell the strong smell of male now. She saw something white almost in front of her face and she knew what it was.
"Take hold of my cock," he ordered.
"Wha-what?" The knife pressed her throat. She almost jumped to seize his cock. The feel of the big male stiffness made her dizzy, along with the smell.
"I'll get the idol back. You're going to help me. We'll settle that witch's brew for her, Pat. But first you're going to pleasure me and pay me for the trouble you're giving me."
He thumbed her mouth open like he was turning the page of a book and crudely thrust the head of his prick into her mouth. The smell, the feel of the straining, hard meat revolted her. She could taste rich protein. Her mouth was stained with his crystalline preseminal fluid. She jerked back with a cry. "I--can't--it's dirty--augghhhh," she said.
He had flipped on her bedside light. It was his turn to stop in surprise. Pat Locksley slept naked. Sitting up as she was she knew her large well shaped breasts hung there like beautiful bells, the soft nipples scrounged hard in her tension. "Oh, now," he said in admiration. "Oh, now."
He jerked back the covers, dived on her and before she knew what was happening, he'd forced his head between her legs. The knife went flying over there somewhere past the bed. This time it was his driving tongue that slashed into her cunt, already wetting from the forced handling of his staff.
"Uuuu," she said as she felt his tongue seize her clitoris. Then in spite of herself she flattened her belly out against his face in eagerness. It felt to her like her glands were wired for instant action, and his tongue kicked them loose. Her fluid began to sweat out of her vagina double-time and as it flowed, sweet pleasure flowed. Oh, it felt good!
Pat kept catching her breath in the thrills. That demanding tongue was in, in deep and brushing her clit to madness. She whimpered at the sudden sex demand on her system. "Pul--please--" He pulled her around so she was on her side and his big prick was thrusting at her face. Helplessly, she took hold of the male weapon, amazed and excited at the way the soft skin rode over the hard muscle. She was going to have to give up her sex to the man and she hated it, hated it! Sex was weakness. Sex was male domination. Sex was little girl helplessness. Here she was one of the great powers in the Heights. Men trotted around at her command with their soft little pricks dangling helplessly whenever the city council met.
Now this crude bumpkin had got his tongue in her cunt assaulting her privileged privacy, and his stiff cock was poking at her face, and she felt her power shriveling and drying at the pressing animal demands.
"Oh, oh, oh, no!" she protested. But he held her bare ass tightly to force her muff into his mouth, coolly taking charge of her sex machinery as if he'd always owned it. Thousands--millions if you counted her TV appearances as a model--had secretly lusted for her private parts. This primitive beast simply came in and took command of them.
And she was hot! She fought herself--no good! Her loins thrust up against that invading mouth with twitching eagerness to ream herself off on his maleness. He'd gotten past her guard. He'd gotten past everything. There was only her bare clitoris and his raping tongue and--
These humiliating thoughts poured through her mind and then she quickened and froze, and burned off spasms of pleasure against his face. Taken! She sobbed in pleasure and frustration. Against this man-prick all she could do was spend and spend and spend. Her money, her reputation, her power were as nothing when his hot tongue lashed into her belly.
She was holding his prick now and she knew she was going to eat it. She hated a male cock in her mouth. Detested it! It was the lowest form of sex. Mouths were made to eat food with--so were tongues and teeth, not to ingest sex organs.
But he was cunt-sucking her into a helpless puddle of pleasure. Turning her into an animal, unthinking, open, weak. Her only defense was to suck the sex drive out of his stiff meat.
Already the tickle had started in her belly as he continued to maul her into a second orgasm--which wouldn't take long, the way her treacherous body grunted and twisted in hunger for her debasement.
She took his cock into her mouth. She sucked. She felt his great body thrill in pleasure. But at the same time, her own fluids loosened and flowed even faster! Hot, hot hot, Oh, God! Golden, golden.
The suck sounds the two of them made were horrifying. Beginning to sob in her eagerness not to give up any more to him, Pat sucked harder using her tongue, gently nibbing his cock head and its rich sex nerves with her teeth. Ran her tongue down his length. Laved his balls as she commanded her saliva to run. Felt joyous as she began to turn on his animal and command-fuck him.
Suddenly she began to grow faint with pleasure. Her belly was beginning to strain for the greatest orgasm of her life and if she lost it to him, she'd lose her power forever. Desperately, she sucked and worked his cock, feeling him roil in deep pleasure, breaking his own rhythm. She would dominate! Ah, ah, ah, That was when he tricked her. Her seam was already sopping with saliva and cunt juice. He shoved his finger up her most private of holes, her asshole. The thrill as his finger breached her sphincter was incredible. It felt like someone had struck her head with a soft mallet and her brains sprayed apart in great pear-shaped drops of pleasure. She undulated her hips and began to pay off for him, losing his cock, losing her control, forgetting her cocksuck. "AHHHHHHH. HEN--REEE!" Throb. Throb. Throb. In her ecstasy she began to kiss and bite the soft skin of his inner thighs as if he were her life-father. Throb. Throb! Throb!
Robbed of sex, starved for love and giving, her body turned into an abject slave, performing for the beast. Throb! Throb! Throb! All the hated things happened, loss of control, of consciousness, of being and ego. She was a little girl again, taking the greatest coaster ride of her life.
At last the ignominy stopped; her cunt spent all its treasure, and she lie in complete splendor of aftersex, giving an occasional sob and having an occasional afterquake of delight. He was king of the world, and she was a piece of man-fucked shit.
He sat up. "Wow!" He pulled her head into his lap. In her dazed glow she felt him page her mouth open again and run his cock into it. He closed her underjaw gently to his shaft, held her head and fucked off in her face. Like a happy baby taking a warm bottle, Pat sucked. Felt him rise and twist. Heard his groans of delight. "Oh, baby, oh, your mouth, oh, God!" Felt him rise higher and freeze. Panicked a little at the flood to come, but he held her head tight. The fast spurting spunk could only go into her lungs or into her stomach. Pat chose stomach and drunk his hot seed as if it were nectar of the gods. Spurt! Spurt! Spurt! The body hot grease slurped and bubbled down into her stomach, while he gave soft cries of released delight. At last his flood stopped, and he laid back, panting, almost as used up as she felt.
"What the hell's going on here?"
A startled Pat stared past the red and saliva gleaming still hard prick of the sailor and found herself looking directly into the eyes of her husband, Phil Locksley. He sat in his wheelchair wearing his ridiculous formal nightwear of an imitation tuxedo done in white flannel, angrily gripping his cane.
The sailor reacted first and rapidly. He spun past her on the bed, did a somersault and landed on his feet on the far side of the bed, his knife, as usual, glittering in his hand. The man must've been born with a knife attached.
"I was teaching your wife a lesson," said Henry. "She gave me my Aztec idol, and then she stole it back from me."
Phil glared at the sailor. "My wife does not indulge in oral sex," he said.
"You mean she doesn't suck cock? She did this time," said Henry. "It was that or swallow my knife. You can't blame her for that choice."
Phil wheeled up to the bed. "I blame her for complete stupidity in this matter." Then he struck her across her naked belly with his cane.
Pat cried out in pain, tried to scrabble back away from the wounding cane. Henry almost jumped forward to save her, realized that it was a man and his wife. Realized that she was a double-crossing cunt in spite of her sexiness. He stuffed his cock back in his pants, slid around the edge of the bed and went out of the room. Behind him the punishing cane rose and fell, rose and fell, as Phil beat Pat, as she cried out in humiliation, trying to duck the rain of blows from his stick.
"Eating cock under my nose! Entertaining itinerant sailors naked in your bedroom. The great Pat Locksley!" Phil screamed at her.
"Oh, it hurts. Oh, Phil, no. Please don't. Oh." Thrust from the bonedeep pleasure of sex with the sailor into the painful role of a beaten wife, Pat scurried and scrabbled for safety from the cane, raising her hands in supplication. Another degrading act, flowing from the weakness of sexual indulgence. Phil had never struck her. Phil had never dared strike her! Now he raised red welts on her skin, left stroke marks across her velvety buttocks, slapped resounding "smacks" across the sides of her magnificent breasts, caning her like she was a stupid schoolgirl.
"Bigshot executive. Hotcunt whore!" Phil's face was red from the exertion, and his dark eyes gleamed at inflicting the humiliating punishment on her lovely body. Sobbing in her abject debasement, Pat still could see the small tent in the man's lap. He was getting a hard-on from beating her!
That blew her mind. That Phil, whose affairs she ran, whose very fortune depended on her skill and her skill alone, would beat her--well, her guilt was great enough to stand that, considering that he'd caught her drinking another man's milk straight from a stranger's cock. But that he would get a hard-on, get sexual pleasure from humiliating her flesh was just too much male--male--shit--that's what it was!
Pat leaped up and grabbed the end of the cane. She tugged at it and he tugged at it, still cursing her, his cock still tenting up obscenely in his ridiculous nightwear. Pat closed her eyes held the stick in both hands and gave an enormous tug. She took the cane away from him. They made a tableau, he in his chair, she stark naked in front of him, holding the cane wrong end to, the both of them glaring at each other.
"You fucking wheelchair son of a bitch!" she cried. She hit him across the shoulders with his own cane. It was absolutely wild since they seldom spoke to each other except in the most formal and polite of terms. He never touched her and she never touched him. Now she stood there aching from a dozen or so red welt marks on her body, with the sting of them burned forever on her mind. "How dare you strike me with your cock-substitute cane!" she shrieked.
She raised his stick with both hands and gave him a blast across his lap. "Oh," said Phil. "Oh, bleeding Christ!" She whapped him across his powerful shoulders and on his shins which made him shriek. Then she took aim at his hard-on poking up in his nightdress. She missed his cock and laid a grunt-satisfying "smack" on his belly. It felt good to punish this man that made her so furious.
"You pricklazy bastard!" she shrieked. "I run your house. I run your fortune! I do all your work for you. I work my ass grey while you sleep till noon and ball your chauffeur!" She was shocked at her own gutter anger, gutter language. She couldn't stop herself. "I never get loved. I never get fucked--"
"Listen, listen!" he cried.
Whack! Whack! Whack! She sobbed in her fury now. "For a week you've been fucking around with the sailor and this idol--while I was out of town. You can't even solve that. Can't--"
Something was happening. Something that surprised her so much her tirade dribbled off. Phil strained up in his chair. That wasn't unusual, he could get up and walk whenever he wanted and often did.
This time he half rose in his chair and then fell back. His face was a puzzle, white streaked with red. His dark eyes were glazed. "I--huh--I--uh"
Pat felt a tickle of a shock and wonder as she stared down at his lap. His cock trembled under the cloth. Phil gave his weird pajamas a jerk--out came his prick in congealed erection. The slender blade was almost purple and it throbbed so hard she imagined she felt its eager excitement.
Pat was now caught up in this freak sex act. Fascinated, she struck Phil another blow on his shoulders. "Ah!" he wailed and the cock jerked tighter. Delighted now with her new power to make his cock spend by punishing his flesh, she struck wildly, enjoying the feeling of released animal anger that she was seldom allowed. Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Eeeeyeowww!" cried Phil. "Please-no-d-don't -- oh, my cock!" But she gave him a final powerful whack across his belly and stopped. Phil sank back in his wheelchair. His cock strained up--and burst! The first leaping silver jet of jism went two feet in the air, the second and third almost as high. Phil grunted and strained helplessly getting off rich tosses of wet sex fluid that fell back in his lap with a "splat." Tortured by the sight of his wife's beautiful mouth devouring a stranger's cock, excited by his beating of her nude body, and finally stimulated by the reverse beating his wife gave him, Phil spent copiously in the hottest orgasm she'd ever seen him have. When it was over, he sank back dazed, the exploded sperm oozing down the still rigid member.
Pat was so excited by this wild activity that she did something that was unthinkable in her normal life. She fell to her knees and greedily sucked the starch-smelling gland fluid off his prick. She didn't know why she did it but she felt open delight at the animal act. Then she sank back on her haunches, holding her stomach, still tasting the nauseating fluid in her mouth. She was returning to her civilized state.
"The sailor's driven us all mad," she said.
"That was the best orgasm you ever gave me," said Phil. "Too bad you had to suck off another man to get excited. And you don't win points by licking off the afterbirth." He wheeled about abruptly and rolled himself out of the room.
Pat could only stare after him in wonder, feeling a complete stranger to herself. She absently reached for the cane--found that it had broken into two pieces at her last blow on his belly. She dropped the two pieces and got up, remembering the sailor. She'd have to warn Angela, warn the rest of the household. But a bitter resentment quickly followed this thought. Angela had defeated her by stealing back the idol. Let Angela deal with the sailor!
Pat flopped on her bed, exhausted. She had to rest for a minute to think about all this, to decide what to do next. Just rest for a minute...
Maria was having her do-or-die interview with Johnny, her fiance. They were together in her small basement room and she was naked. A week ago she would've protested angrily if Johnny touched her breast. But the Aztec idol and this accursed house had changed all that. Now she worked with Johnny's cock, trying to get him hard. His handsome blade lay in her hand, wet from her mouth, but only half erect. It felt cold with her saliva instead of warm.
"Johnny, if we can only make it. Don't you see? If you can know a woman, you can break out of your homosexuality. I can save you. Save us."
"It feels good," said Johnny tentatively.
Oh, he had a great body! Maria hugged him, and she could see their naked bodies together in the mirror. How the other men of Clifton Heights would flip to get the voluptuous little hairdresser in this position. But her breasts, her cunt, her mouth, even her behind, none of this rich treasure produced the necessary hard-on.
"Johnny, how did it start? Have you always been this way?"
"N-no. Phil was sore at his wife. She can't have babies and every so often he gets into a funk about that. One day we were alone in the car and driving and, well, he wanted to, and he's my boss so--we did it."
"You can be cured, Johnny. It may take a while but--" She tried to kiss him, but he pulled back. "Maria, can't we go back to the way we were?"
Sadly, she released him. "No, Johnny." She understood now. He liked to parade around the Heights with the beautiful girl on his arm. He liked the compliments they got--"such a handsome couple" And she--she'd delighted in her envious girl-friends. Johnny never looked at another girl. Of course! He'd have to fuck them and he couldn't. Maria felt tears in her eyes. Her own prudery had led her into the trap with the homosexual.
"I'd better go upstairs now, Maria." It's late."
"Sure, Johnny." She watched him dress and felt her love for him dying. She kissed him "goodnight" -- on the cheek. After he'd gone she kicked the door in anger. Zut! What was left for her?
The idol, that was what! They said the sailor had the idol now. But part of it was hers; he'd admitted that. The thing to do was get out of his house, get out of Clifton Heights, follow the sailor and demand her share. With the money she could start her own hairdressers' shop, start a new life--
A knock on her door. It was Jeanie Fielding. Maria drew back because she was still naked and as soon as Jeanie came into the room the woman's eyes gleamed with lust. And why not! thought Maria angrily. My body is as good as the great Pat Locksley's--Miss Beauty America.
"I was a little lonely," said Jeanie. "I just thought--"
Why not, thought the angry Maria. A farewell performance in the Locksley House. One more time wouldn't matter. The words that Maria said would've been unthinkable a week ago. "Come on in, Jeanie," she said. "Let's fuck."
"Hello, Shirley."
"Oh, hullo, Angela," said Johnny. "Didn't I hear some fuss going on down the hall?"
"Just the sailor and Pat," responded Angela. "I think he has her about the ears over something. Also I saw Phil listening outside her door. Looks like trouble to me--let's hide out."
"Horrible noisy people," said Johnny, looking over his shoulder. "Much too crude," said Angela. "Let's go to my room, Shirley, and try on some clothes."
Johnny stared deep into those eyes of the peculiar purple irises. "I'd love to, dear."
First the wig. Angela chose a red-haired one, much like her own hair, and put it on Johnny. Then the face makeup, murmuring all the while to him in a low endearing voice. "Oh, Shirl--your face is so pretty." She kissed Shirley on the lips and rubbed her beard. "Don't make fun of me, Angela," said Shirley angrily, stamping her foot.
"Sorry. I know you hate that."
"All the way back to high school, they made fun of me," whined Shirley. "Just the same, I was loved. The captain of the basketball team was really hot for my bod. We made love in the locker room after practice. It's a wonder he didn't get me pregnant."
Angela played with Shirley's cock. "You'd've grown him a wonderful baby in your sexy womb, Shirley."
"Yes," she sighed. She let Angela put on the white satin blouse, open to the waist so an exploring hand could gently rub a naked belly. The bra with foam rubber breasts was already in place.
"I'll bet you had lots of boy lovers," Angela encouraged her. She was now getting some oils from bottles on her dresser and the perfume smell rose.
"I got my share. In my two years of college, too. Then Phil Locksley advertised for a chauffeur." Angela rubbed the oils between Shirley's buttocks. The girl did have a fine ass! "Being a chauffeur is not really a woman's job," Shirley confided to Angela. "Still, I was so taken with Phil--"
"It happens to all women," said Angela. "Certain men's cocks make our vaginas ache.
Angela found the sphincter deep in the warm crack and worked the oil in, as the muscle readily opened to her fingers. "You have such a fine cunt, Shirley," she breathed. "Do you think so?" asked Shirley. She blushed and as the oiled fingers stroked up her asshole her cock began to stand up hard. Soon it was straining.
Angela sighed to feel that marvelous sex equipment heating up. Delightful! "But what about Maria?" asked Angela, stroking the girl's smooth tight balls. What a load she was carrying!
"Oh, your hand is warm," said Shirley. "Maria was Phil's idea. To cover up things." She giggled.
"Do you like Maria?"
"Maria? The best friend a girl ever had," said Shirley loyally, tears in her soft eyes. Angela slipped a rubber over Shirley's hard cock, feeling deep sexual thrills in her own body.
"You're going to milk me!" said Shirley in sudden suspicion. She pulled away from Angela. But Angela's eyes burned into hers. "Relax, Shirley," she said. She got the sheer pantyhose, the velvet miniskirt and the boots. Angela loved the feel of the sheer panty hose, and the velvet skirt against her nudity. She finished dressing the compliant Johnny and turned him-her to the mirror. "How do you like it, Shirley?"
Shirley laughed and whirled before the mirror, spinning the short skirt. "I'm gorgeous, aren't I?" she cried. "I don't care if you milk me!"
Well, it had to be done. The sailor's male milk was the best for Angela's waxen dummy. Rich, thick, strong. But Shirley was her dependable cow, young vigorous, always there to be emptied.
"You're a beautiful, beautiful woman," Angela murmured to Shirley, kissing her. "Go lie on the bed, dear." Shirley did as she was bid. Angela followed her and turned her over on her stomach. She dug her hands luxuriously into the buttocks, enjoying the feel of the hot meat under the sexy velvet. Then she laid back the short skirt to reveal the ass, crisp in sheer pantyhose and showing an enchanting oil stain in the crack. Shirley was relaxed near sleep.
Angela's own cunt wet copiously as she slipped out of her robe and prepared for the violation that would provide rich milk from her cow. She now set out the Aztec idol that would do her work for her. It seemed to have marvelous powers to stir sexuality.
CHAPTER TEN
Once Henry left Pat's room he moved with caution. He guessed from Pat's surprise that it had been Angela's idea, and hers alone, to shoot him with the electric gun. Damn the woman and her weapon! He'd find her and fix her.
He took a lot of time to cover the house. He wanted no more surprises from her. He discovered Phil asleep in his bedroom and Pat asleep in hers. He chuckled. Apparently they'd settled their differences, although he'd heard some remote noises up there earlier. Down in the basement at Maria's door he recognized the voices of the girl and Jeanie. That was a party he'd like to break into! But not this time. Too bad about Maria. She'd be a great fuck-lover if she weren't so little-girl fierce about everything. She was as good looking as her mother.
On the ground floor he found the Church of Pagan Rites deserted. This surprised him, but he supposed they had to take a night off once in a while. Then on the second floor he found his bonanza!
When he opened the door at the end of the hall there was Angela. If there was any doubt in his mind the sight of the red hair dispelled it. And there was his Aztec idol gleaming expensively on the night stand.
She seemed to be asleep, or dozing. As Henry moved into the room, she didn't move. What an ass she had! Her skirt kited up, and twin perfect mounds covered with sheer pantyhose. What a chance to give her eight inches of thick sailor's cock! He started to reach for the idol. The light was dim, the carpet thick. He could quickly take it and be gone. But his cock in his pants was pulled uptight by the sight of the sleeping woman, her slim body, her exposed ass, and the inviting dark crack. He simply couldn't pass this up!
Henry slipped out of his pants and felt his cock strain for action. He got on the bed, mounted her hips and pulled the pantyhose down gently opening her bottom to his cock pleasure. She stirred languorously and he saw her buttocks tense and relax and he caught his breath. She was asking for it, as she murmured sleepily.
Henry slid his cock the long way between her buttocks and was rewarded by the smooth, silken feeling of oil. My God, it was as if she'd prepared herself for a delicious cumhole! Was she truly a witch?
He slid his hand under her stomach and lifted her loins, his heart pumping in rising excitement. His stiff cock found her hole and slid in easily, and he felt body heat and soft friction. Her sphincter was already relaxed for him.
"Oh, baby!" he exulted and fucked his prick deep up her hole, reveling in the feeling of cock possession of another's body. The smooth friction tickled his brain as his cock flashed pleasure signals up his body. "Uh," she grunted. He reached under her to open her cunt lips and find her clit with his fingers. Instead his hand closed around a firm, hard manpole.
Henry had his cock impaled hilt-deep in a man's asshole! He was so astonished that he held himself up with both hands on the bed--and the man--the boy--it had to be--worked his body along Henry's cock, providing smooth, sliding fuck friction. It was heavenly!
It wasn't Henry's first trip up a male rear. As a sailor on long voyages, he'd had to make do before. Nevertheless he'd never found it as exciting as girl meat. This was exciting. There were the clothes, the smell of perfume, the hair--obviously a wig--and the smooth young body pumping off on his cock, enjoying it.
"Oh, dear, don't I have a fine cunt. You do like my cunt, don't you, Angela?" the boy said. Henry flashed the scene then. Angela had been about to rig the lad, when he'd interrupted and she'd fled. Probably she'd meant to use the Aztec idol for a prick up his butt. But why?
Then he remembered the strange feel of the cock, felt again. Sure enough! The young blade was encased in a contraceptive. Angela was up to her old trick of male-milking. As she'd done to him in the clinic, with Jeanie. Good God, what a weird household.
Henry groaned. The young ass under him was making him white hot as the man worked his butt to fuck off Henry. He expertly used his sphincter clutch on Henry's pleased tube. His working buttocks tensed and untensed against Henry's thighs, smooth skin warm and sexy.
"Buddy, you're sexy!" breathed Henry.
"I'm not buddy, I'm Shirley," came a muffled voice under him. "Okay, Shirley, okay," said Henry, groaned and wrapped his arm around her--his--middle. His hand slid past the satin blouse inside to the kid's naked belly. Feeling those working muscles, Henry went sex crazy. "Fuck--fuck you!" he cried and began to pump. He grabbed under and caught the young male cock. As it slid through his fingers, Shirley--whoever he was--cried "Oh, oh," in hot pleasure and began to fuck faster.
"Beautiful ass, sexy ass!"
"No--my cunt--my beau-tt--ifull cunt--"
"Yes! Your sexy, hot, love-hungry man-cunt. I want it, I want you. I want all of it."
There was a lot more strength in men, and Henry found himself hard put to fuck as hard as he was being fucked. The boy was yammering in delight, his cock slipping through Henry's fingers, his hole open to Henry, his passage walls tight enough to impede Henry's hungry prick and send up shots of pure sexual pleasure from the friction.
Henry wallowed in the total sexuality of the male, biting the soft skin of his neck, inhaling perfume, rubbing the straining flat belly, pumping his cock and driving his blade deep, deep into the cock-opened guts. It was wild and hard and he wheezed in his breathless excitement, plastered to his bucking young homo.
"I've never--n-never had it--like this," cried his partner. "You-you--hottest male bitch--sex -- oh, wanting to go--" They were both yammering now.
Then Henry felt his young male about to go and he sucked in great breaths of happiness to control and fuck out the hard-driving boy under him. Shirley quivered, lost strokes--"Oh--I--think--"
"Go you bitch! Give it to me! Take my baby!" cried Henry rising to his peak.
The kid broke with a mighty gasp. Henry remembered it as one of the most erotic feelings he'd ever had--the tough, young male body locked under him at the driving command of his cock. He felt the tremendous spends gush into the rubber as he milked off the kid, and the simultaneous squeeze of the asshole on his prick. Meanwhile he was fucking like mad, driving the male sperm out of the kid's body into the rubber. The whole sex equipment performed for him in massive gouts of spending. Ahhhh, what a pleasure!
Then the boy relaxed. It was Henry's turn.
Fucked out of his mind, Henry let his body have its way. His cock jammed tight up the boy's rectum and locked him in that fabulous freeze of pre-spend, so close to life and death. Then Henry spent off his own darts of pleasure deep in the taken guts, feeling the soft ass quiver as he cast his seed into the stranger's body.
Go. Go Go. It was the pinnacle moment of living to fling seed into a hot human body, and Henry felt like a millionaire as he completed his cumhole. At last he finished, and lie in open splendor on top of his victim, cock still stiff and imbedded, while the lad moved uncomfortably under his weight.
"I--have a fine cunt, don't I?" said Shirley.
"I'm convinced," sighed Henry, savoring the glorious peacefulness of the end of a good sex trip. Reluctantly, he released his sex partner to get a good look at the man. But he never did. As he rose, naked and cock dripping, Angela appeared out of her door in the back of the room. She had her electric gun, and she hit the button, the barbs flew out, hooked his skin and the voltage once again took him down into blackness.
"I'm going to close Locksley House!"
It was a Sunday morning breakfast that all of the inhabitants would remember for a long time. It was the moment when Pat Locksley went on her rampage.
"That's ridiculous," said Phil, sitting up in his wheelchair.
"What a fantasy," said Angela.
"Pat, you're mad," said Jeanie who was serving the hot rolls.
"What will happen to me?" asked young Jefferson.
It was a Sunday morning tradition that the servants ate with the masters, so the chauffeur was there and so was Maria who appeared to be a member of the household, at least temporarily. She was the only one who was unaffected by the news.
"Phil," said Pat. "I've had it up to here with you. You've ridden on my back for years now, lolling in that stupid wheelchair and letting me do all the work--handling your affairs as well as my own cosmetics company. Last night when you beat me -- that was the end of the line as far as I'm concerned. I realized how far you--and all the rest--have slipped into decadence."
"You and that sailor--"
"Never mind the sailor. He's upstairs asleep in my bedroom, and he's entitled to a rest. Because he set out to do a job and he worked at it. Getting back his property. That word "work" is a word none of you know about. "Sex"--now that's a word you all understand. You've pushed it to the limits. Turned into freaks. I'm blowing the whistle."
"Now Mrs. Locksley," remonstrated Jeanie. "Some of us work. I work."
"Yes, Jeanie, you work. At the stupid job of being a housekeeper. Far beneath you. Why, a few years ago you were going to school to learn accounting. I was all ready to take you into the cosmetics firm. You're bright enough, strong enough to make a major woman executive. Instead of that you piddle around this creaking house playing housekeeper and wasting your time with black leather and whips and chasing young girls."
Jeanie pursed her lips. "A person's entitled to a few simple pleasures, I should think."
"Simple pleasures, Jeanie! All you can think of is getting your hands on new girl meat and biting clitorises." Pat was breathing hard and her highly personal attack told them all how upset she was. "You're as lazy and decadent as Phil. All you can think of is what's between your legs and somebody else's legs. A smart psychologist would lock you up, Jeanie. You've gone way down."
Jeanie turned pale and sat down abruptly. There'd never been such an attack on her in all her years at the Locksley House.
"Jeanie didn't deserve that, Pat," said Angela. "She was here in our father's time. We need her."
"You--you above all, Angela," said Pat. "A few years ago you were acquiring a national reputation as a scholar of eminence in the field of antique rites. You had monographs published. You gave lectures. Professors came here to the House to interview you. Foundations offered you grants to forward your work. Where is it now? Gone--all gone. You creep about in that silly robe. You put on orgies for Clifton Heights richies who have more brains in their cocks and cunts than heads. It's getting to be a scandal in the Heights, and some day something will happen to bring the police and indictments from some Grand Jury. You've slipped the farthest of all.
"I've decided to sell your Church, Angela. It must go. The Seventh Day Adventists are looking for a location. There's no reason why we can't clear out all that junk in the West Wing and rent it to them for serious religious purposes. Make some money off of it, to boot."
"The sailor's turned your head," said Angela. "Yes, he has!" cried Pat, riding her high dudgeon. "He's turned it in the right direction. All this wild business about his idol had brought the truth home to me. And, by the way, Angela, you'll have to produce the idol for him. I insist upon it."
"It's lost," said Angela simply.
"You'll find it," said Pat. "I've also managed to lose your electric gun, after I found the poor man passed out in the hall, early this morning.
"He attacked me," murmured Johnny, not entirely in anger.
"And you, Johnny," said Pat, finishing her rounds. "I don't mind--no one minds a decent, well-behaved homosexual these days. What you do with your sex life is your own business. But I saw you staggering around in that weird dress this morning. Velvet miniskirt. Good God, boy, what's got into you?
Johnny blushed and avoided Maria's eyes, as well as Pat's. But Maria said: "Perhaps I'd better leave, Mrs. Locksley. I only came here to help the sailor."
Pat couldn't deal with this beautiful girl who was her own daughter. She had intimations that the others had used the youngster, but her own guilt feelings made it hard for her to meet Maria's eyes. "Yes, Maria, perhaps you'd better leave now." She hated to be so cold, but this haunting reminiscence of her own wild youth was just too much to handle. She felt the girl wanted more of her but could not give it and remained silent. After a moment Maria got up quietly and left. As she went, Pat watched the supple young body and thought, "My God, what if the sailor had sex with her?" Then he has fucked both the mother and the daughter. That was a mind-blower.
But there was no time to follow up on those thoughts. The uproar had begun as the others lashed back at her. The fight raged all day long, with shouts and anger-choked rebuttals. At some point a groggy Henry staggered downstairs, listened to the bedlam, seized his peacoat and headed for the door. "I'll be back later for my idol." Pat stopped him and sent him to the Clifton Heights Community Center where there were rooms and apartments for the rich and powerful of the Heights, and their friends. "I'll arrange it; I'll pay the tab," she told him.
Henry accepted with a shrug. He was fucked out and sore from the assault with the gun. He'd had enough of this crowd for a while. Just so he got his idol. Tonight he'd sleep in the penthouse at the Center. A few nights ago--the rough stone floor of the cave in the Wild Area. No doubt he'd be back to the rough stone floor before long. He left.
Pat made the final pronouncements at dinner that night. "Phil, you have one talent. Horses. You used to make money buying and selling them, and selling stud services. You can do it again. You are to take Jefferson and head for Del Mar or whatever track is open--and do a little work, dear husband."
"Am I allowed to take my wheelchair?"
"You can walk on your hands for all I care. Just be gone tomorrow." Her experience of beating him to orgasm with the cane gave her a new power over him.
"I'll leave tonight," he said. "I'm getting out until you recover your sanity." And he wheeled angrily from the room, followed by Jefferson.
Pat said to Jeanie: "I won't need you here. I can manage alone. Tomorrow you can find an apartment in West L.A. After that, I want you to report to my office in Century City. I'm putting you to work in a real woman's job."
Pat's attacks hurt Jeanie the most. Jeanie had always felt very close to Pat and secure in the Locksley House. Now the cold woman smashed it all. Tears sprung to her eyes. But it was that old discrimination against lesbians. Pat's face remained unmoved.
"Why as to a job and an apartment, I can take care of myself, Mrs. Highandmighty!" said Jeanie. "I'll leave tonight. I won't spend another night in a place I'm not wanted." She hesitated but Pat didn't say anything and so she stalked out of the room, tears flowing down her face. What would the old master have said about this hard tit destroying Locksley House?
When Jeanie was gone, Pat said: "Well, Angela, that leaves you. And don't pull any of your hypnosis nonsense on me. You never could put me under."
"I put no one under. I sense their hidden desires and release them."
"Well, dear sister-in-law, you have a standing invitation to work with Professor Thatcher up in Santa Barbara. I have a hidden desire for you to go there. He'd welcome you both as a houseguest and a colleague. Shall we say tomorrow?"
"I sense you wish to be alone, Pat. I shall leave tonight."
"And Angela--the sailor's idol?"
Angela shrugged. "It was lost last night. Since you remain here perhaps you're the logical one to find it."
The big Locksley House was dark and quiet. Pat moved from room to room feeling satisfaction. She should've cleaned out this den of degenerates long ago. She herself was almost a stranger to the house. Much of the time she travelled on her company's affairs, back East and to Europe. She also kept a small apartment in Century City when she worked too late to drive home, which was often.
Sunday night. The ass end of the week as her accountant liked to put it. All alone in the big house. Some people would call it eerie, she supposed. She shivered involuntarily. It was so quiet.
Outside she saw the swimming pool, desolate now with dried leaves stirring, since the weather had turned back to winter. Was it only Friday that she'd felt the sailor's knife in her body? And that incredible penis? Then she flashed on Henry's cock straining in her mouth last night, and her husband's near-purple cock shooting silver darts. She felt warm between her legs.
No, she wasn't alone. The Aztec idol was in the house. That strange artifact that opened people to sex, not gentle sex, not gentle feelings. His was a dark age of blood, human sacrifice, cannibalism, ruthless, primitive sex. She was almost afraid to look for him. But it must be done, just as she had to do unpleasant things at work.
Pat forced herself to go into the Church of Pagan Rites where the idol must be hidden. She didn't like the place; she hadn't been in here for the past two years, since things started to go bad.
In the gloom of the room the single spotlight on the altar-couch stared down brightly. She walked into the big chamber and suddenly froze in shock--there were two naked figures on the couch. "Excuse me!" she called, feeling her heart flutter.
Then she realized they were only waxen figures. Dummies. She'd heard the sly references to Angela's "fucking machines"--a man and a woman. Curious she slowly advanced through the darkness and came up to them.
She felt very exposed. Were the evil jewelled eyes of the idol, hard green emeralds, watching her? She wished now that she had Angela's Taser gun down here. But it was confiscated and safely hidden up in her room.
The couch reminded her of an operating table. The waxen faces were spooky, soft liquid eyes that stared, lips that gleamed wetly--Eerie!
The face of the woman was just like hers! "What the--why, that nervy bitch!" thought Pat in shock. Another trick of Angela's. The body made her shudder. It was her figure, but the form looked like a corpse. Pat tentatively touched the woman's belly. The skin was warm, soft! "Oh," said Pat in surprise pulling her hand back. But it was only foam rubber and heating circuits, she knew.
Embarrassed but unable to resist her impulse, Pat gave a guilty glance around and then put her hand on the woman's snatch. The slightly spread legs admitted her fingers past soft cunt lips. The vagina was hot and began to wet to her fingers. The woman ground her hips on Pat's fingers and murmured "Ah -- good." A recorded voice, all tricks, but Pat felt a warm glow in her own lower regions. She felt between the woman's buttocks. A sphincter, of course. Once again her finger breached a hole and she felt the anal passage--body heat, warm oil. The woman bucked her ass and said. "My ass feels good. Ah, good."
Fascinated, Pat let the woman work on her fingers for a while. The loins moved faster, sweat beads appeared on her body. The soft, recorded voice said: "Ah, good. You're taking my ass. Oh, my ass feels good." Angela's voice? Hard to tell, but the dummy was very stimulating. Pat's real live juice began to wet her panties. To her, lesbian love was beyond understanding, but also forbidden, dangerous--and it was exciting to play in these off-limits areas.
Pat removed her fingers and the figure slumped, stopped. After a moment Pat touched the woman's nipple at her breast. Immediately it hardened sexily. "Oh, God," said the woman.
"Steady, bitch," said Pat, caught up in spite of herself. She cupped her hands and squeezed both breasts, nipples warm to her palm. "Oh, I love you!
Please fuck me," said the woman, raising her arms. Pat stepped back, the arms fell back, and she stepped forward again to look at the mouth.
Nice lips, nice teeth, wet gleam. Shadow of a tongue inside. Pat touched the lips and the mouth kissed her fingers, but not perfectly. It was an obscene machine imitation. The woman made eager, cooing sounds in her throat. Pat bent down and kissed the mouth. Warm lips vacuum-sucked hers. She pressed her tongue to the machine lips and they opened, offered her sweet saliva, while a soft tongue fluttered.
Remarkable! Angela must've spent a fortune on these machines. Fabulous electronics, incredibly circuits. Feeling bolder, Pat put the woman machine through an entire masturbation cycle. The figure humped on her finger, whimpering in pleasure, cunt juice flowing.
The control was the clitoris. The harder Pat pushed it, the hotter the action. The throat gasped, moaned. The eyes fluttered, closed, opened, and at last with a satisfied grunt the loins came up and the machine spent, the vagina throbbing against her fingers. Pat felt weird, as if she'd intruded on a very private sex act that was somehow crazy wrong. With all the real, live unloved female bodies walking around the earth there was no need for such a machine.
A small vial on the couch to one side caught her attention. When she opened it and smelled she was startled to recognize male semen. No machine preparation this! Some real human male had poured out this sex libation in the stress of fuck-lock. Angela, Angela!
Pat turned her attention to the male figure above. He was lashed in such a fashion that he could screw the woman machine, or she might be slipped out and a living woman accept his eternally stiff prick. She had no doubt the same care had been taken with him, eyes, mouth, muscles, sweat, recorded voice, the works.
As she ran her hand down his permanent hard-on she felt an unaccountable and delicious weakness in her knees. Forbidden sex with an automatic fucking machine, she thought; it's not for me, and yet--and yet-- She passed her hand down to the balls and hefted them. Full, tight, soft. She peered closer and saw an eye-dropper sized opening with a cover. She slid the cover back and squeezed the balls, as gently as if the creature had lived. White sperm oozed up from the warm bag. She took a little on the end of her finger, smelled it.
It was like someone hit her on the back of the head with a hammer. She recognized this real-life sperm. Huge gobs of it had been thrust down her throat yesterday by Henry, the sailor. There could be no mistake--she'd know that smell anywhere. She tasted it, and felt a knife of pleasure in her belly. This man's smell and juice really turned her on! But how on earth had Angela gotten a balls-full amount of Henry's jism?
God, she was hot! She looked up at the man; he smiled. She looked at the arrangement. The woman could be removed--a real life woman take her place, because the controls were simple and well-marked. Hands trembling she removed the woman. Oh, God, no, she couldn't. She closed the eyedropper hole but not before a great white bead of the absent Henry's stuff oozed out. It was silken on her fingers.
With a sudden decisive move, Pat began to undress, closing her mind to the outrage she was going to offer her own body. She had just dropped her panties on the floor and started naked for the couch when there was a dramatic interruption. The doors of the church flew open and a white figure entered, stood framed in the doorway and gave a resounding, primitive howl. It was so fierce and unearthly that for startled seconds Pat thought it was from an animal, although the figure was quite clearly human. She backed rapidly into the darkness, not knowing what to expect. The figure advanced to the altar allowing Pat to see it clearly as it came into the light. The white blur resolved itself into the figure of a young woman who was dressed in a most outlandish costume. The breasts were exposed but the long shards of cloth were splashed in a riot of primitive colors, reds, blues, greens, and there was a silver mantle. Despite her disinterest in things pagan, Pat recognized the markings as coming from the Aztec.
The girl got up on the couch on her knees. There was something magnetic about the way she moved, as if suffused with incredible inner tension. As the girl turned her head upwards as if praying, Pat saw that she wore a bright ceremonial headdress. The girl said: "Here me, gods. I am an Aztec princess; my mission is murder!" She appeared to be listening for a few seconds, then: "Will you consecrate my murder!"
It was Maria.
The whole thing was chilling and it was absurd. Pat recognized the breasts and hips of her daughter, but the contorted face was almost animal. "Maria!" called Pat.
The girl's lips appeared to be moving, and her whole body shook lightly as if she were in an epileptic fit. Pat's fright gave way to compassion to see the girl in such a sad state, beside herself with drugs or hypnosis, or whatever the stupid group had done to her. Pat darted up to the couch. "Maria, Maria -- what have they done to you?"
The girl's eyes appeared unfocussed, the pupils large in the white light. Yet she seemed to see Pat and with a reaction of horror drew back and held up something glittering as if to ward off the sight of Pat, much like a Christian would hold up a cross against the forces of evil. But the object in Maria's hands was--the Aztec idol, emerald eyes glaring at Pat.
"The killer queen!" said Maria, trembling as she stared at Pat.
"Maria, for God's sake. These amateur theatrics," said Pat, shaking the girl by the shoulders. "Are you drunk?"
Maria jerked back, her face contorted in hate. "Don't--Don't t-t-touch!"
"This is ridiculous," said Pat, over her fright now and suddenly becoming aware that she was stark naked in front of her own daughter. She tried to seize that flashing Aztec idol. "Give me that and calm down. Tell me--"
Pat got no further. The girl pulled back with a savage cry, the Aztec idol flashed up and came crashing down on Pat's head...
White, white lights. Pat came to slowly, her head aching. She tried to move and she found that she could not. What the devil--She tried to lift her head to see where she was, to figure out what was going on--
What was going on was that she'd been firmly bound to the altar couch, and her head as well as her arms and legs were immobile. Maria's face swam close to hers. "Mother--"
"Maria, oh, Maria--you hit me."
Maria smiled and rubbed her cheeks. "My mother." There was something dangerous lurking in the girl's dark eyes, so that Pat felt a quirking finger of fear.
"You deserted me," Maria smiled at her. "I never got any kisses from my mother." She held Pat's head and began to kiss her on the mouth, cruel, hard kisses. Pat's head had cleared now and she felt a growing sense of outrage. Those fools had somehow hopped up the girl and filled her head with nonsense. Now they were in for it. Pat would see to it that--
"Maria, you're hurting--" she twisted her head away from those punishing kisses.
"Milk," said Maria. "The poor, poor princess never got her mother's milk--" Sharp teeth seized Pat's nipples one after the other as Maria cooed as she sucked and bit Pat's breasts.
"Don't! Stop! God, that hurts!" cried Pat, shuddering in pain.
"Never washed her daughter's face." Maria changed her position and began to lick Pat's face with long saliva strokes that left wet trails across her cheeks, her jaw, her mouth. The tongue dug noisily into Pat's eye sockets. Pat sobbed in the embarrassment and frustration. It was outrageous to be pinned down so, to have her head held in those strong hands and to be licked as if she were a helpless baby.
Finally it stopped. Pat was about to speak, opened her mouth to speak to try to reason with the zonked out girl when Maria calmly reached into her mouth and grabbed her tongue. It hurt and it was infuriating, having her tongue jerked almost out of her mouth. "Aggghhh," she said, and then suddenly Maria had rammed something hard and metallic into her mouth as she released the tongue. The end of it went past her gag point and Pat strained and tried to choke it out but it wouldn't come out. She was genuinely frightened now. It might be her daughter, but Maria was crazy high at this moment and could do her serious bodily harm--
Maria was smiling again, holding up a small bottle. Pat saw that it was that same bottle of human semen that had rested on the table. With growing horror she realized that Maria was going to pour at least a half cupful of the stuff down her throat. Because what Maria had forced between her lips and deep in her throat was a funnel. Pat's breathing went quick and light in horror as she saw the hand dip, and instantly felt the greasy stuff oozing down her throat.
It was one thing to drink off a man in the heat of love and passion, but it was quite another to have cold jism crudely forced down your throat. Pat coughed and strained at her bonds but she was helpless. The horrid stuff sank into her stomach which knotted in disgust as it received the liquid.
Maria took out the funnel; Pat heaved, but the girl seized her jaw . "Don't vomit, mother dear, or I shall piss in a bottle and make you drink that." Pat didn't vomit.
Maria was now stroking Pat's belly. "Such a fine body, mother. To think that you created a princess when I was conceived, and I came out of your guts. Was I a good fuck, mother? Did you have a hot orgasm when my father planted me in your cunt?"
"Maria, for heaven's sake, this comedy has gone far enough."
Maria began to finger her cunt. "Show me how you come mother when a man is fucking a baby into your guts. I've never had that."
"Oh, Maria." This was the most humiliating of all, her daughter poking her fingers up the mother cunt. "Ahhh!" cried Pat in distress.
The face was close to hers again. "You fucked me mother. Now I'm going to fuck you!" In the uproar of her feelings, Pat could only close her eyes and try to retreat mentally from this outrage. Insistent fingers thrust with impertinence up her channel, making it grow wet, stroking her clitoris, making tiny fingers of sex reach out for her.
The mouth that had been so cruel was now gentle, teasing. Hot breath on her nude skin. Wet tongue. Tickle. Dab. Suck. One by one the portions of her body were being seduced to pleasure.
"No, dammit, Maria!" Pat cried. She felt Maria release her head and lifted it to protest, but at that moment the Aztec idol entered her body. "I've learned so much in your house, mother," whispered Maria.
There was pain as the figurine distended her vaginal walls, but the swift flow of her fluid quickly eased it and the plucking rub of its sides started fires inside as it stroked her clitoris. She tried to ease her body and found she was fuck-thrusting. She tried to stop that, but Maria suddenly dived her tongue between Pat's lips and the heat and wetness plus the pumping statue brought Pat straining in hot desire. "No, Maria, no, no,"
"Oh, yes," said Maria happily, gently kissing and using her vulnerable nipples. There was no denying the fires of sex now. She was humping to her daughter's count, like a common street whore.
"You're fuckable, mother!" said Maria. Then the figurine was gone and there were two, three, then four driving fingers working Pat's slit. It was altogether too much. Pat had been driven to the point of animal, far past recognizing her daughter or anything else except the glorious fire of hot sex. Her belly quivered as she strained up in the elysian fields of pleasure.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Now then, Maria," said Angela. "Listen to me closely. You have finished with the queen. Now you must take care of the king." She finished smearing her preparation on the Aztec idol.
"The queen, my mother, is dead?" asked Maria.
"In a sense," said Angela impatiently. "Forget the queen. I am talking now about the king. You must go to him." Angela pressed the idol into Maria's hand. "Careful. I've rubbed a little Aztec magic onto the idol."
Maria took the idol automatically, carefully and stared at it. The sparkling surface had been reduced to a dull grey from the paste that Angela had spread on it.
"The idol is dirty," said Maria.
"The idol is prepared for a king. It's treated with the paste of the Tlang root. This is an ancient poison favored by the Aztecs against their enemies. Often they would stage a whole banquet just to set up an enemy to be killed after they'd pleasured him with food and wine and his suspicions were lulled. They also used these false penises, like the idol, both for sex and for death. With a loved one it was smeared with an aphrodisiac to increase the pleasure. On the other hand, smeared with the paste of the Tlang root it introduced a slow poison into the body."
"Love potion. Poison."
"You are to excite the king, which, dear girl, will be an easy job for you. When he has mounted you and entered, you have only to introduce the Aztec idol between his handsome buttocks. In the heat of sex he will not resist. The Tlang root will do the rest."
"The king--is--the sailor?"
"Yes. I've told you where to find him. Now go." She kissed Maria on the forehead, wrapped the idol carefully in plastic wrap and sent the girl on her way. Angela had never had such a fine hypnotic subject. The girl's primitive intensity made her easy to work with.
It was most unfortunate that they had to treat the sailor like this, but there was no choice in the matter. Angela always looked more deeply into motivations than the others. The others saw this rampage of Pat's as being a case of morality. Angela knew better: Pat wanted to clean out the Locksley household because she was infatuated with the sailor and wanted privacy to enjoy him.
Angela didn't blame Pat. She liked the sailor immensely, and she liked anyone, for that matter, who entered passion with the lust he did. The one thing that her studies of antiquity had taught her was that between birth and death, the most important thing that happened to a human was passion--love--sex. There were other pleasures in life, but none ran as deep.
But passions, like cyclones, had the power to do great damage before blowing themselves out, and this case was one of them. Pat's desire to team up with the sailor would cost Phil his fortune, Jeanie her future, Angela her church, and even hurt those poor kids, Johnny and Maria. This affair had to be averted for the greater good of the greater number.
And it was possible, though not likely, he could survive. The Tlang root treatment in the rear was a shade less lethal than when used in the vagina where it was always fatal. Perhaps she should've warned Maria about that. Oh, well--
Angela next rewound the closed circuit tape she'd made of Maria's lesbian frolic with Pat. Her co-conspirators, Phil and Jeanie, had not believed she could get such fine blackmail on Pat so easily. But wasn't it obvious?
Pat with her ordered mind would look for the Aztec idol, and the one place in the Locksley House she'd be sure to look was the Church of Pagan Rites. All Angela had to do was have a hypnotic session with the suggestible Maria Carvo and dress her in one of the hundreds of costumes kept in the church. Then turn her loose on the supposed evil queen mother when Pat came into the place.
That closed circuit TV system was an integral part of the operation--it provided many fine hours of viewing excitation for those who attended, and it often spurred them to record their own sexual antics on tape. None would have a more powerful effect than this tape on Pat. In her business world of bank loans and normalcy, this weird episode would shatter her image as the reliable, responsible businesswoman.
The three of them would never have to show it to anyone but Pat. Once she saw it, she'd be ready enough to cancel all plans to destroy the Locksley household. With the sailor gone, life would be sweet, as before.
Angela now moved from the church downstairs to Pat's bedroom above. Pat had been thrust into a very light swoon--Swoon? That was an old-fashioned word. Pat had been given a sleeping potion. A very small amount of the Tlang root smeared on the Aztec idol which Maria had thrust into her cunt. The stuff, absorbed into Pat's system would knock her out till morning. Angela had been careful to use a very small amount of the dangerous stuff.
Angela touched Pat's cheek. She was sleeping well. It had been exciting to see Pat, her square sister-in-law caught in the throes of lesbian love and having to give up her sex to the young woman. Angela envied Maria, because she thought Pat had an exciting body, although she'd never dared to touch her before.
Now she pulled back the covers to examine Pat's nude body. Staring at the woman's charms, she felt her temples throb with desire. Everyone's sexuality was exciting to Angela, but it was especially exciting to see the animal in this remote, exalted woman. Queen indeed!
Angela slipped out of her robe, got into the bed and spread Pat's legs. The smell of Pat's cunt made her dig her fingernails into the mattress in delight.
How was it possible that such a virile woman could have no children? Such beautiful loins were worthy of a goddess. Angela locked her hands across the unprotected belly and brought her tongue to Pat's cunt.
"I worship you!" she cried softly and tenderly parted the lips that led to Pat's tunnel of sex. The sweet flow started as Angela's tongue found the red little clit, and was answered in Angela's own body with a cunt flow of desire. What heaven! For Angela, learned in ancient wisdom, there was only life, death and the swift, ecstatic triumphs of love in between--
Henry could not get his breath. He lay with his cock tight up Maria's cunt, thrilled by her girlish tightness, captured by her sinuous motions. It was a miracle that he should be fucking the little hairdresser in this penthouse apartment, but he wasn't one to pass up miracles. She'd brought him the idol and allowed herself to be seduced into sex.
"Fuck! Fuck wildly--I am a princess!" said Maria in her fierce intensity.
"Oh. Ah. You are a princess," he said. "A fuck-lovely princess." He'd scored the girl before--taken her virginity in the cave. And he was probably the only prick she'd known since her fiance had turned out to be homo. Yet this Maria was far different from the scared virgin of a few days ago. Her movements were supple, her body eager for the rhythms of love, her appetite more fierce. The frigging lesbians had no doubt trained her, but at least they'd given her a thirst for real action.
"God, you're beautiful," he told the girl with enthusiasm, aware that he was getting extra kicks out of her being Pat's daughter. Back then he hadn't even seen Pat. She was Pat but she was much more primitive. Maybe she was on something--she acted a little doped up.
"You must please me!" she cried imperiously, arching her body up and actually lifting his great weight from the bed. Her intensity made Henry began to go ape. "Oh, Jesus, kid, you're a fabulous fuck!" he said, his whole body singing with happiness to be riding this luscious girl bitch--
"Goddamnit, Jeanie," said Phil. "Where's Angela with that film?" He lay back in his wheelchair, naked, his cock jutting up purple and swollen. His body was criss-crossed with lash marks, the first he'd ever allowed the housekeeper to lay on him. Jeanie, in her leather outfit had collapsed against his legs, sweating, her cunt alive with juices, her eyes big with love. She'd whipped him into a terrific hard-on--the first hard-on a woman had given him in years, she thought, and she was proud, proud, proud.
"Fuck Angela," she gasped. "I want to get you off." God, he was strong. He could take a fierce beating.
"You can't get me off with your feeble little whip," he laughed. He broke down the sides of his wheelchair and pulled the big woman over his lap. With his tremendous shoulders it seemed no effort at all. "My turn," he said and laughed gleefully while he spanked her buttocks. "You crummy bitch, I'll beat your shitass to a pulp." Smack, smack, smack!
Jeanie squirmed in surprise. "Oh, God--ahhh-it burns," she said happily. The big prick dug into her stomach as he held her, the lashing hand turned her buttocks red, and the glow in her belly meant an orgasm that would blow her out of her mind.
Presently he stopped, reached under her buttocks and crudely forced all four of his fingers up her cunt and began to ride her.
"If Angela got a good tape of Maria girl-fucking my stuck-up adulterous wife, we'll lay her in the goddam roses," he said hopefully.
"I--I--we--ahhh," said Jeanie.
He began to twist his hand as he thrust. Not since the sailor had love-mauled her had Jeanie felt such magnificent thrills from her clitoris. "Ah, God!" she wailed, rising. The second time in a week by a man! "Oh, Jesus," she whimpered.
"In Pat's world that TV tape will make her look like shit," said Phil. "Businessmen and bankers don't trust sex freaks."
"Ah, God!"
"Of course they make the best--and don't trust anybody as secretly as immoral as they are. Anyway her revolt is over."
"Arggghhh." Jeanie thrashed and then froze and paid off to Phil's hand in luscious throbs.
"Oh, you bitch--you vile, open cunted whore--I want to fuck you!" cried Phil. He jerked Jeanie around to get his stiff prick to her entrance and felt thrills as his cock sank into her taken, wet cunt, as she moved, dazed, treating her wounded guts gently...
* * *
"S-se-semen sample?" asked Johnny Jefferson nervously of Nurse Botsford. He lie on the only bed in the Clifton Heights medical clinic, the one recently occupied by Henry Harper.
"It's a local ordinance," Nurse Botsford assured him. She wore her surgical gloves and worked his slim cock with vaginal jelly. To Johnny, the forbidding smells, the medical austerity of the place, the behavior of the nurse, badly scared him. As fright thrills shot through him, his dong began to rise.
"But," he protested. "I came in for a rectal examination. I sat on a nail or something and there's been blood." The sailor had really brutally used him.
"Believe me," said the nurse, "a rectal examination is dangerous in this place. I'm not one to talk down doctors. But Dr. Decker is a recent widower, and he's got his problems."
Johnny's prick got harder. "Is he--handsome?"
"I've seen worse."
Somehow the surgical gloves, the KY jelly, the whole scene made Johnny feel potent. There was all that whiteness, and the medical, scary smells. It was like they had your number and were going to clean out all your pus-semen with healing throbs.
Nurse Botsford peered down the enlarged hole in his cock. "Believe me, that's no dry well," she said. "I think we've got us a gusher. I may just drink a drop or two."
Johnny felt a crazy tickle. He was going to come for a woman for the first time in his life. Maria's roommate, an older woman he hardly knew. Yet it felt weird and wonderful. Incredible! He began to strain...
* * *
Tenderly, tenderly, Angela pressed the sponge into Pat's swollen cunt and collected goddess juice from her sister-in-law. Her own belly felt aching and puffed and she was bathed in sweat. Her cunt gave a turgid spasm and she grunted in pleasure. She'd been having love contractions off and on for ten minutes. It was a high point in her life to dare to suck-fuck the mighty Pat Locksley.
Meanwhile, Pat shifted her body, half-awake and muttered "Henry", still not able to break through to consciousness. The flutter of her eyelids told that she dreamed rich, erotic dreams. Angela's tongue sucked forward once more for final conquest...
Henry would never forget the orgasm he was now entering. In some fashion the hot little princess had got her pelvis moving under him in a double action upstroke and downstroke that created unbelievable friction against his cock. Add his own bucking and straining and it was blue ribbons for all, because he knew his cock burned her clitoris with unceasing hot contact. Her delight made her even more violent in her motions. "Take me, t-take me, you c-common s-shit!" she gasped. "Make me feeeeelll -- oh-oh, oh!"
"Gug-going--all--the way!" Henry sobbed. This time there was no freeze on her part. She suddenly locked on him, stopped all motion and began to squeeze his cock like she had a gloved hand down there. Her spasms were so strong, her body so tight, that it felt like he'd fucked a warm, living marble statue equipped with a pulsating ringhole.
Her cessation of motion threw him violently over. Unlike his partner, he went into a long, exquisite freeze, and actually felt the end of his prick brushing the woman's soft uterus. Then the shocking flood that drove his guts to cave in with pleasure and force his jets of spend into her body as if to squirt right through the sides of her womb. In his animal pleasure, Henry blacked out...
* * *
Phil spent off in Jeanie's cunt like she was a piece of meat. He would bite deeply into the soft skin of her shoulder, she'd jerk in pain, and he'd shoot a gush into her guts. Bite, jerk, spurt! He'd never felt such a sensation before, using both his teeth and his cock to get that hot jism up into her guts.
"Oh, Phil--don't kno--oh god, don't BITE!" she screamed in agony.
Luscious bursting male throbs of domination and pleasure. He was making her take his sex hard and deep and it was one of the best gut-spurts he'd ever had in his life...
* * *
The crazy thing about this orgasm, thought Johnny, is that I really don't want to go. Now that the nurse had her mouth tight on his cock and was trying to suck it out of his body, he resisted. She'd build him to a tickle in that crazy-gone feel just before orgasm and then his feelings would slide back to where he didn't want to give it up. He'd been milked too often, milked, milked, milked. By Phil, by Angela, by all of them. He'd never give it up.
With a sigh, the nurse let go his cock with her mouth. She grabbed a rubber and slid it on his distended cock, the contraceptive slipping at first in the slime she'd left on his blade. Then she threw back the covers and grinned at him.
"Watch out now, boy."
"I--can't come!" he said.
No sooner had he said that than she went down on his toes. Yes, his toes. Johnny had never had anybody suck his toes into a mouth. He curled his toes in pleasure, delight shot up his body, and then he fainted off, strained, and huge white clouds of semen burst into the rubber. It felt like the jism started in his tickled sucked toes, spread up his legs and burst out through his cock. "Ah, oh, God," he said and strained and went on filling up the rubber with ineffable delight...
* * *
Now, thought Angela, now. Pat Locksley closed her legs around Angela's head. Pat Locksley gave up her sex treasure to her sister-in-law. The woman was still not awake but her teased, tortured cunt went into leaping contractions that made Angela's tongue flutter. Her nerves and glands were fully awake and under the control of the witch, because after the first run, Angela flicked the helpless clitoris and was rewarded by a second set of runs as Pat gave up to her again.
Now Angela was very excited. She ran her tongue along the swollen cunt lips getting ready for a third try. Her victim's body was locked. Forward! She thrust her tongue in and laved the clitoris with love and aching desire.
Throb! Throb, Throb! She'd played her sister-in-law's sex equipment like it was a tame banjo.
"Oh, Pat, Pat, you sexy, cunt-happy sex demon!" cried Angela. Now she dragged her aching, unfulfilled body on top of the nude Pat and pressed her own cunt against the pelvic bone of her lover. Slow, yielding, rewarding spasms! Angela let the near painful releasing contractions take her to happy land, as she dived down into darkness in one of her major orgasms. In those breathless moments it seemed that she looked upon the obscene face of death, and was not afraid, was glad to surrender her body and her soul to eternity, riding the sweet sex excesses of her deeply erotic being.
* * *
Sunday night in winter, in the suburb of Clifton Heights, the ass-end of the week, as someone had said.
Henry Harper awoke with a start and looked at his watch. Two A.M. He sat up in bed trying to figure out why he'd awakened so quickly and completely. He felt absolutely wide awake, not a bit tired. Next to him in the penthouse apartment of the Community Center the sweet little hairdresser slept, her mouth slightly open, her face almost that of a baby's.
He smiled fondly at her. Maria Carvo, beautiful daughter of Pat and of his old friend, Jose Carvo. He remembered his first encounter with her in the cave on that foggy Tuesday morning, and here she was again beside him. It was as if her being here completed his round-- He jumped to his feet--that was it! He had finished his business in Clifton Heights and it was time to move on. Japan, Hong Kong, the South Seas--there was always another ship to catch and he had never been one to linger in any spot.
The women of Clifton Heights had driven him out of his mind with sex, all of them beautiful, all of them priceless: Maria, Jeanie, Angela, Pat and even Nurse Botsford and the sexy chauffeur. He'd not meet their likes again, not so many in so short a time. But his internal clock told him it was finished.
He'd accomplished his mission. There was the Aztec idol, sitting on the night stand, ready to go. They'd even wrapped it in plastic for him. Henry chuckled. Maria had come to him suggesting that she join up with him in his travels.
"Then we won't have to split the shares," she'd said.
"What split, Maria?"
"My father's share. It now comes down to me," she said, and then began to tease him into sex. Which he'd taken gladly. The business of the split with her--that was another fish. One way to look at it was that Jose's share went to him alone. Still-- Henry dressed quietly, lashed his stuff together, shoved the Aztec idol still in its plastic into his coat pocket and shouldered his foot locker. Much as she appealed to him, he had no intention of taking an eighteen-year-old girl with him on his travels. Her proposed share in the proceeds of the idol sale was something else. Maybe he should leave her a thousand--
He looked down on her pretty sleeping body. Shit! Why not ten thousand? No, hell, maybe she was right. Give her a whole one hundred thousand. That would quiet the ghost of old Jose Carvo and still leave him four hundred thousand. Then he began to worry about the girl's money. Was it wise to give an eighteen year old girl a hundred thousand? Some hotshot would surely fleece the kid before she'd made the down payment on the Cadillac she'd probably buy.
Henry was out of the apartment now, down on the street, his feet hitting the pavement and feeling good. His world was on his back and in the foot-locker on his shoulder, and he was free and moving out again. Instinctively his feet took him towards the ocean on the other side of the Wild Area. When he came to the edge of it, he was still worrying about the kid and the money--and there in front of him was the Locksley House, dark, quiet, spooky.
It excited him to see the degenerate old mansion where he'd thrown so many wild fucks. What a weird place! Then it struck him--the answer to Maria's money problem. Pat Locksley! The natural mother of Maria was a sharp business woman. He'd arrange with her to become guardian of the hundred thousand.
He hesitated. One path led him to the ocean through the Wild Area to the next stage of his life. The other was back into the Locksley House. He felt his heart begin to beat faster. Maria had told him that Pat had kicked the evil three out of the house. There was a little-used bomb shelter, built back in the days of the atom bomb scare in the Fifties. The evil three were holed up in there.
That meant that Pat was alone in the house--lovely Pat. Drawn as if by a sex magnet, he turned once again to the eerie old place, hid his gear in the bushes, found a window open and let himself in-- Henry stood again at Pat's bedside as he had on last Saturday night and looked down on the sleeping woman. He'd turned the night light on and saw that she was alone--and slept naked as before. One lovely breast was exposed to his gaze, and he felt the rise of one lovely hard-on.
The thing to do was shake her awake and quickly give her the message and be on his way--before the wild, nutty Angela got after him again with that fucking electric gun. If he hadn't liked the redheaded witch so much, he'd've wrung her neck long ago.
My God, his prick was hungry! And Pat was alone and fuckable. What would be the harm in stealing one more goodie? They could settle the money affair afterwards. It might be a long time before he found another love-fuck as gorgeous as this one. He tried to think about it. But there was no thinking, only the anticipatory thrills of his hungry prick.
Then he got the bright idea of how to wake her up. Delighted, he undressed and took the Aztec idol out of his coat pocket and slid it free of the plastic. He worked her cunt lips gently to start the flow while his cock strained earnestly to be buried in her belly.
She still wasn't awake, although her vagina began to wet freely. He held the idol to her sex opening, as pleased as a small boy at his joke. What a surprise she'd get on awaking! If he worked it into her cunt slowly he could get the whole thing up in her passage before she was awake enough to resist--and she'd be fuck-hot for his prick.
The idol felt gummy to his touch, but he was too cock-eager to worry about that. Forcefully, slowly he oozed the statuette into her body, as she stirred and twisted, against the restraint of his free hand.
At last it rested full length in her orifice, the base almost buried in her cunt lips. She opened her eyes, looking dazed. Then she seemed to recognize him and smiled sleepily.
"Hullo--Henry--been having dreams about you--"
"Me, too, lover," said Henry. "I've got a surprise for you."
She wiggled her hips in appreciation at her pleasantly filled vagina--at the sight of his standing cock--then her face slid into horror. She bucked up against his hand and screamed. She kept on screaming, eyes wide in pain-shock. Her body arched upwards as if she'd received a mortal wound, and her screams rained on his ears-- "Oh, God, my belly. Oh, God, it hurts! Oh--I'm dead!" Scream after scream. Henry was on his feet now, shocked by her screams, reading death-terror in her eyes. He shouted: "Pat--Pat--what is it?" In some fashion he'd done a lethal, shattering thing to her...
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dr. Decker had a problem. In fact, the Clifton Heights medic had several problems. The worst was his hard-on, which drove him up the wall. He had a hard-on because the exquisite Pat Locksley occupied the only bed in his clinic, fulfilling a fantasy he'd dreamed a thousand times.
Decker was stuck on her; and in the privacy of his office he'd masturbated over a picture of her in a swim suit countless times. In these sessions he always imagined she'd have some illness that would bring her to the clinic and that somehow the miracle would happen. She remained disgustingly healthy.
Then--wham--it was reality. She was tucked into his bed, that marvelous body that he'd dreamed about covered only with a wispy hospital gown. What's more, he and he alone was attending her.
The impossible dream had turned into reality sometime during the middle of the night when he'd been called to the clinic to find her in a feverish, serious condition, brought by the sailor, attending by Jeanie Fielding and Phil Locksley.
By dawn a half dozen expensive specialists had been called to his clinic, money no object, to look at her, and that was the beginning of his ego put-down. One specialist called it kidney stones, another was sure it was a burst appendix, a third believed her uterus was poisoned and should be removed immediately. The wildest was the heart specialist who sensed his first heart transplant in this rich patient.
All these experts had one thing in common--contempt for the fiftyish, balding ordinary M.D. who ran the Clinic. They'd've removed her immediately, except that each had a different hospital Holding himself bent over a little, standing very wide-legged, Dr. Decker sent his patient home, telling Jeanie that he recommended vaginal stimulation every four hours so she could continue to flow out the poison that had entered in that portion of her body "much of which I've been able to remove by prophylactic means."
When they all had gone, Nurse Botsford told him. "You look pale, doctor."
"It's been a wearing day, nurse."
"What are you doing?" she asked. He had, in fact removed the bandages from his still stiff cock and was flooding it again. "I am treating some cold sores," he said too delighted with the easement of his pain to conceal his problem from her.
"Perhaps you ought to give up a semen sample," she said putting on her surgical gloves. "After all, it is a local ord--"
"It never was!" he cried. "You said one day you thought it'd be a great idea. Ever since then--"
"I'm sure you're right, doctor," she said blushing.
"I'll give a semen sample in a month, six months, or maybe a year. The way I feel now, maybe never, never in all my life!" he said. "That's how I feel about it, Nurse Botsford."
Later as the nurse watched him creep out of the clinic walking with his legs wide apart she said: "They're all alike, brilliant in the lab, stupid when it comes to knowing their law."
A contrite Angela made a full confession to a wan Pat Locksley who sat in her husband's wheelchair in her own bedroom and directed the postmortem. When Angela was done there was a silence. At last Pat said: "So you convinced Maria I was her wicked to take her to. Finally, in conference with Phil, it was decided that each should make his own examination right there, make his notes and go off to write up his diagnosis.
At three o'clock the entire group would meet and come to a conclusion. It was now one p.m. and Decker's office was a bedlam, with Phil, Jeanie, and the sailor, plus executives from Pat's company, milling about waiting for the meeting here of the specialists. Nurse Botsford was in the center of all of this, managing the telephone. Calls came in, calls went out, and the nurse in her surgical gloves handled them all with professional aplomb.
That left Decker to look after the patient. The sailor had told him that he thought Pat was poisoned by some object that had somehow gotten into her vagina. Doubtful, thought Decker. Patients and their friends were always wrong as to what started an illness.
However, noting the guilty manner of the sailor, he had surreptitiously felt into Pat's cunt, but found nothing except a rather generous flow of fluid. Which might have been caused by his poking in there. The only result of this was his enormous hard-on which his white coat barely covered.
What was maddening was his status as male nurse, consigned to the quiet privacy of Pat's room while the medical decisions were being made elsewhere. Once he'd gone out to give an opinion only to receive still another humiliation.
Whap! A stinging blow from Phil's cane scored his backside. "What the hell are you doing out here, Decker? Your place is at my wife's bedside."
"The least you could do is make her more comfortable," snapped Jeanie.
Nurse Botsford said, "Give her a patch bath."
She told the others, "Dr. Decker is very good at baths, especially with the female patients. I'd do it myself but I'm tied up on these phones."
Decker started to protest hotly and then he remembered the huge fees the Locksleys paid to keep the clinic running and turned about and marched back to his patient, red-faced and muttering. Only the sailor was decent. Decker felt Henry cared more about her than any of them.
Pat Locksley was playing with herself. At least she had her hand down there and moved it around. She wouldn't do that, he thought, if she knew how much harder it made his hard-on.
"My dear lady--" he began.
"Help me! Please help me.!" she begged. Her eyes glazed in fever didn't recognize him and that excited him even more. Well, perhaps the nurse was right. A patch bath couldn't hurt her.
Then when he got the rubber sheet under her and the basin ready and took off her robe, he knew the moment of truth had come. She was a sick patient, helpless and deserving of his prudent, compassionate actions. With the high gloss of sweat covering her body she was also the most erotic sight he'd ever seen. And him a widower now, without a regular sex object.
It was all, all as he'd imagined it in those private meat-whacking dreams, the full breasts, the sweet belly, the sleek curve of her hip, the svelte turn of her thigh. He wanted to say he loved her. He wanted to cry out he adored her! He wanted to fall on his knees and shout hosannas that he was allowed to exist in the same world with such a lovely creature!
Instead of all that he merely crawled on top of her, separated her legs, fitted his straining cock to her cunt, said "excuse me" and shoved hard. Her box was swollen, turgid and with heavenly friction she took him in deep, bathing his cock with her juice, thrilling his cock with her body heat. He hugged her luscious being to him gasping. She thrust up openly crying "Henry!"
"Q-Quite so!" he said. Oh, heaven. At least the sailor's prick could be no harder, nor more eager. He was fucking into her animal body in the finest moment of his entire career. Fantasy had become reality; reality did not disappoint--her hot nude flesh, her sweet mouth, her hard nipples, her deep sexuality, all were just as he'd dreamed it. It almost overwhelmed him.
"God, I'm fucking--top cunt--the Heights--oh, Pat," he said. It was all too much, his hunger too great. After four or five golden thrusts his cock betrayed him and spewed forth in his wild excitement that left him thudding his lifestuff into the queen of them all. Ohhhh, it felt soooo good! "T-taken," he moaned.
"Oh, more, more!" cried Pat by no means done. Her vagina flowed even more heavily than before, as if he'd unlocked a secret gate. What a woman! But now there was nothing to be done but finish her by hand, as his cock shriveled. He did this and felt his cock and his hand burn. "She's overloaded by nerves," he said petulantly.
He crept to the door; but it was okay. Nobody outside was aware that he'd made gross use of his patient and benefactress.
He felt conscience-stricken now, and finished the bath with care, finding her somewhat more lively, though still unable to recognize him. When he was done his prick was hard again and his conscience was weaker. "In for a dime, in for a dollar," he muttered and resumed his mount. Perhaps this time he could prolong that heavenly cock-lock.
His cock was hurting now as he fucked Pat in long, lascivious strokes, probably due to the unexpected straining. But he wouldn't give up. Oh, no! The inside of his blade felt great, while the outside kept feeling worse and worse, and this combination of pain and pleasure extended his fuck while she flowed copiously around him.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she said with little-girl intensity, grinding against him. "More, more, more." She was sweet perfection in his arms, loving him with full vigor--and he was entering a nightmare. It hurt--oh, it hurt!
"Dear lady--something wrong--" he gasped and then went into the strangest orgasm of his life. His cock skin burned in pain, his interior parts burst and bubbled in her cunt in unalloyed joy. He gave a yelp and held her tight to take his spurts, arms trembling in both agony and ecstasy.
Then he dashed from the bed to the basin in the bathroom and poured cold water on his stinging blade. Ah, God, he was going to faint from the pain of it. Through the door he heard Pat's cheerful voice. "Dr. Decker! Dr. Decker! What an I doing here? Have I been sick?"
Decker was too sick to answer. He could only cling to the wall and bathe his cock which was now red, white and grey. It remained very stiff.
By nightfall Pat's remarkable recovery found her almost normal. The specialists had met, had observed only a slight fever and a mild vaginal discharge and turned her back to Phil and the clinic with disappointed sighs and threats that the time they'd wasted was going to cost somebody a lot of money.
queen mother and she the wronged Aztec princess."
"Just junk!" exploded Phil. "Angela's wild imagination. We were fools to go along with her."
Pat looked over Angela's shoulder at Henry with a significant look. He smiled. The evil three still didn't know the secret that Pat was really Maria's mother. Their script with Maria was pure chance.
"But why didn't Maria use the idol on Henry as you planned?"
"Love," said Angela simply. "She wants the sailor, you, Henry."
"She won't be the first princess to want to kill her mother and marry the king," said Jeanie.
"It still isn't over," said a worried Angela. "Maria's disappeared. I checked with Vicki Botsford, her roommate. Vicki told her what happened to you earlier tonight. Maria gave a scream and ran out into the Wild Area, Vicki said."
"Well, you're the hypnotist," Pat told Angela. "What will she do next?"
"I'm afraid something very serious. She thinks she's killed her mother; then after she claimed her lover, he deserted her. We must find her at once, tonight, or she may kill herself."
"Henry," said Pat.
"I'll go," he said.
"We must all go, except Pat," Angela said. "I'll never forgive myself if she isn't found in time."
The storm that had threatened all day burst. The wind howled, the rain drove in almost horizontally from the ocean. Pat had called in the police and a small body of men had joined the search. But by midnight their efforts lagged. Phil, Jeanie and Jefferson withdrew to get some rest, and the police lieutenant told Henry that he'd soon withdraw his group till morning.
"Mud, rain, gummy underbrush--we'll never find her tonight," the man said.
"I'll go just a little longer," said Henry, to whom storms were a part of his daily, rugged life. He was determined to find the girl they'd all used so badly.
Naked, crouching in the cold and the rain, more like an animal than a human, the Aztec princess followed the big white light in the hands of her lover that despised her. She'd discarded her clothes when she'd decided to kill herself. Then she'd found a rocky point that was two hundred feet above the foaming breakers and the rocks below the Wild Area. It was too dark to see well but she knew that when she hurled herself off, her body would be smashed on the rocks below. A fitting end for a tragic princess that had killed her queen mother and been rejected by her king father.
Little children in years to come would listen saucer-eyed around night fires that gleamed to the sad tale of the Princess Maria. The only thing missing was that her faithless lover would not see her end. While she pondered this, her prayers were answered. A search party had come for her, and after a little spying on them she was able to spot her lover among them.
She followed him for a while; then saw the other searchers give up and retreat, but the king kept up his search. Ah! He was concerned and he'd suffer to see her die. She showed herself in his light when he was not far distant from the point of her death leap. Henry cried out and waved frantically when his strong light picked up the whiteness of her naked body against the darkness of the foliage. At that moment the storm let up for a few minutes.
Laughing madly she raced towards the high rock point she'd chosen. The sailor, hampered by his wet clothes lumbered along after her.
"Maria. Stop! Stop!"
She screamed her pleasure at her sacrificial death to come, leaping from rock to rock, then posing on the high point, ready to leap. The king continued to run toward her, screaming insanely himself. She waited until he was close enough to every detail of her nude body outlined in his light as she poised on the brink of eternity.
"You've killed me, faithless lover!" she shrieked. Then before his horrified eyes, Maria gave a mighty leap out into space and darkness...
Numbed, panting, sobbing Henry reached the point of her leap too late. She was gone, gone forever, foolishly killed in his greedy struggle for the Aztec idol. Her body was now mutilated, bloody garbage on the rocks at the foot of the cliff -- that beautiful young body, the intense girl he'd loved so much, hurt so much.
"Shit!" he said, still crying and started to hurl his big flashlight in frustration out and down into the ocean. But something caught his eye. It was the naked Maria struggling in a puddle of water about twelve feet under the rocky point. There was a ledge under the crest. There was no possible way she could leap far enough out to clear it and fall the two hundred feet to the rocks below.
Crying out in delight, he scrabbled down to where the girl struggled in the water. It was no Aztec princess who peered up into his light. Instead it was Maria the hairdresser, shocked out of her trance at last. "What in the name of heaven am I doing here, Henry?" she asked him. "Please get me out of this mud." And she fainted in his arms.
He carried her up the slope, dropped his big flashlight that was more of a hindrance than help and rushed her back towards the Locksley House. He was lucky--the police group hadn't left yet. The lieutenant and his men wrapped Maria in warm blankets--after a suitable examination of her charms--and the man told him.
"Looks like shock. We'll take her directly to the Medical Clinic for rest and examination."
The girl seemed enormously tired, so Henry kissed her pale cheek and waved the men on. Then he turned back towards the rocky promontory to pick up his precious flashlight. He couldn't help wryly admitting that since he'd come to Clifton Heights the Clinic had been taking in patients at an extraordinary rate. But at least poor Maria was saved.
He found Angela standing by his flashlight. She was as soaked as he was and she looked very worried in the white light. The rain had started again., "Henry," she called. "You don't suppose Maria has--" she pointed wordlessly to the crest of the rocks.
Staring at the woman, Henry felt his anger rise. She'd given him more trouble than all the first mates in his sea career. Shot him with her electric gun three times. Milked him of his manhood. Put Pat Locksley in the hospital near death. And almost killed him and young Maria to boot.
He took hold of her shoulders. "I'm afraid I've got bad news for you, Angela."
"You mean, she--she--"
He began to unbutton Angela's jacket. He feigned wildness, not hard to do in this wild place after all the action of the evening. "I'll show you what happened--"
"Henry, don't--"
"--took off her clothes--"
"Henry!" she screamed as he threw off her jacket and ripped open her shirt. "--show you what you did to her--" he keened--"Oh, it was awful -- naked girl in the mud and rain--" Rippp! Angela's bra was gone and she was half-naked. "You're mad!" she cried.
"Saw her die!" he screamed. "Oh, the poor, poor kid!" He roughly shoved Angela down and began to strip her of her pants. She fought back savagely, and the bitch witch had surprising strength. But not enough, not nearly enough. He soon had her bare-assed naked in the rain.
"Oh, oh, oh," she wailed. Her body was wet and slippery now as he struggled with her. Very sexy. He felt his cock rise, controlling the nude, good-looking red-head. "Show you--just where--she jumped off the cliff--"
"NO, HENRY!" screamed Angela as he wrestled her to the top of the rocks. God, her squirming body felt good. She was a premium fuck, make no mistake about that. She bit, she scratched, she kicked, wailing in her distress. She was only a frightened little girl now in the hands of a strong madman.
"Right--here--" Henry had her on the tip of the rock poised over nothingness. "Oh, oh, Henry! Please!" she moaned.
"Then she went over--like this!" cried Henry hardly able to conceal his laughter. He lifted the struggling woman off her feet and thrust her out into the space and darkness. "Ah, God," she wailed as she fell.
Hard as the blade of his knife, hot as a roaring fire, Henry stripped off his clothes, reveling in his own nakedness in the elements. "Comingggg!" he screamed, grabbed the light and dived into the darkness after her.
Angela was scrabbling out of the puddle of mud and water at the bottom of the ledge. Her face made the whole exercise worthwhile. "You bastard!" She threw a handful of mud at him and it struck his face. Laughing in glee he went after her. She saw his nudity, his ready cock and said "Oh, no." She began to scramble up the short hill on her hands and knees. With a roar of pleasure Henry leaped on her back, pulling her down, trying to punch his cock between her legs.
"Henry, you know I don't fuck," she protested, panting.
"You did me once; you'll do it again," he said and held her, found her cunt lips. His cock drove part way up her tight passage. Her interior body heat was incredible when the rest of his body was exposed to the cold and rain. And her cunt was wet and getting wetter. He was reaching the little bitch's animal.
"I don't think--I don't think--she keened, shuddering.
"Don't think," he ordered. Then "Ahhhh." His cock raped into her small passage causing her to buck under him as if he'd rammed a hot poker into her tender parts. Which was just what he'd done.
"Ohhhhhhh," she moaned. "I'm--fucked." Her cunt began to squeeze his cock and he remembered with delight the extraordinary, trained power of her vagina. He held her under him dog-fashion and pumped in wild delight. "You fuckable, naughty, dangerous--hot--sexy--" he muttered.
"Ehhhh," she said, and her cunt muscles slid and squeezed him. Given up to pleased, hot friction, Henry howled in delight as her acrobatic, tight passage massaged him. There were long, luscious cock strokes into her body while she held rigid under him, trembling and grunting in her effort. It was the best possible receptacle for his prick, hot cunt squeezing, body held rigid, acknowledging his fuck power with her tremors.
Then he understood what the sexy witch was up to. She meant to pleasure him, since she had no choice, milk him, drain him, but to hold her own sex treasure safe and aloof.
"Oh, no. Oh, no, you bitch!" he grunted in delight, fucking her. "You're gonna come--before I come--call me master--"
"F-fuck you!" said Angela, relying on her well-trained hot glove muscles to maul his prick into defeat. It was a contest.
Henry slipped his cock out of her cunt and went for her asshole, helped by the thick gruel of her glands. "Oh, no." she cried as she felt him batter at her back door. "Unk," he said as she felt her helpless sphincter give in and took two inches of her rectum.
She gave a cry of pain and hung there while he violated her guts as deep as he could go, her empty cunt squeezing nothing. "Uuuuuu--deep," she gasped. Her cute butt worked under him, tensing at this taking of her tenderest parts, trying to ease his plundering weapon's effect.
Then as he drew back again and rammed a second time into her glory hole, she laughed in wicked triumph. The dumb bitch had trained her sphincter too! As his cock plunged in, she exerted incredible pressure on his tool, a soft, firm, punishing friction that made Henry gasp and go weak with the blinding desire to spill his guts.
"Come, you weak bastard!" she ordered.
Henry was no longer aware of himself. He was animal fucking, feeling great streaks and runs of glory from his riding prick--caught in an intense delight he'd never felt before. "Ah, oh, uh, heaven--"
He no longer cared if she came or not. He just wanted those incredible, pleasing strokes to go on forever, whipping him up, up, up. Vaguely he realized that he was taking her in both body orifices -- first her ass, then her cunt, getting huge pleasure from her squeezes at either passage.
"Oh, Henry," she said, suddenly. "I think--I think--" He just fucked in wild delight, but Angela had begun to jerk under him. Her body was going out of control. "You've--done--"
"Master--" he sobbed.
"Mmmmmmasss--I think. OH, GOD!"
"M-master," he insisted.
"Ah, God," she sighed and gave up her sex treasure to him. "Master!" he shrieked. "Ah--mas-terrrrr," she conceded, and then turned into warm, sexy marble. The heavenly contractions he felt throbbing around his cock were not the voluntary squeezes of her love making. They were the spasms of a massive involuntary orgasm, acknowledging his mastery of her, as she spent and spent and spent giving him her open, taken love in huge quantities. He felt her go limp.
Henry fucked three more glorious strokes into her cunt to prove his point and then let the top of his head slowly blow off as he went into a red-gold haze of cessation and stillness. Now. Spurt! Now. Spurt! His stuff gushed against the base of her womb, scalding her insides. Huge, relieving wet spasms more like a horse spend than a human's. It was a peak moment in Henry's entire checkered career of sex, pumping his glory seed into that devious, sexy woman held powerless in the mud and the driving rain.
Afterwards in spent languor they just clung together for their body heat, cock still buried in cunt, in their puddle of water and mud. She had used her nervous system so hard he had to half carry her, stumbling, back to Locksley House.
The house was quiet, all crises settled for the night. Maria rested safely at the clinic, Phil had retired early to be ready for his trip tomorrow to go to work seeking profitable horseflesh at racetracks down south. He had promised to leave his wheelchair and give up wearing a dress suit all the time, a habit that had always annoyed Pat. Jeanie was spelling off Nurse Botsford at the clinic with the care of Maria. Angela had returned exhausted from the search in the Wild Area and gone to bed, and Henry was in the spare room to spend the night. He and Pat would have a long talk in the morning; meanwhile there was no chance for sneaking a goodie with him because of the condition of her vagina.
Which itched. Mindful of the doctor's advice, and finding the house quiet, Pat left the wheelchair and went down to the church. She was weak, but she could walk all right.
The experience with Maria made her a little sensitive to the altar-couch, but the doctor had suggested vaginal massage to sweat out the last of the poison. Positioned comfortably, Pat lowered the robot figure with the eternal hard-on, activated the controls and said aloud, "Some prescriptions are easier to take than others. Unnhhh!" The last as the mechanical prick entered her cunt.
Angela's fucking machine was really quite pleasant, throbbing and swelling into her cunt and setting a golden glow in her loins. "Fuck a little faster," she ordered, then remembered and punched the button. "Uhhhuuuuu," she said rolling against her machine lover. His heating circuits warmed his prick and her cunt, and his murmured words and thrusting motions made her juices flow, reducing the poison in her system. Ah, good!
"Ahhwooo, ahwoo," she went as she peaked pleasantly. There was no need to worry about the other person's needs in this sort of sex. Pat gave off satisfying throbs of her sex equipment to the machine. "Ah, I'm fucked!" he cried, his circuits sensing her contractions. He froze politely and spurted hot goo into her, making her trickle and laugh for joy because she knew Angela had loaded his prick with some come stolen from Henry.
Afterwards, she kissed him gently on the cheek and retired upstairs, quite well satisfied to follow her doctor's orders. A half hour later she struggled up out of bed, unable to sleep, put on her robe and went down the stair again. That time she let the male machine grind three more heavenly orgasms out of her before she put him away for the night. Maybe it wouldn't be necessary to wipe out all of Angela's church activities she thought.
Maria awoke at noon on the day after her ordeal feeling very, very good. She was rested in body, healed in soul. She'd adjusted to the loss of Johnny, finished with her terror of, and love for, the sailor, and had survived all the tortures that the people of Locksley House had heaped upon her, including that nonsense about being an Aztec princess, which seemed to her now like a distant dream. Nurse Botsford brought her a tray, told her she was going off duty for a while and vanished.
If she could get some money, she thought, she could pull out of here, start over somewhere else. She'd have to go see Henry about that. He owed her--
Henry walked through the door. "I'm your nurse," he grinned. "I'm spelling off the good ship Botsford."
"You're just the one I want to talk to," she said, eating hungrily.
"Not with your mouth full," he said, sitting by her bed. "I'll talk to you and bring you up to date." He ticked off his points with his fingers. "Phil took off with Jefferson a little while ago to do something useful for a change. However, I don't trust him completely. Angela's left for Santa Barbara to visit some professor and his wife, and I predict a menage a trois by the weekend."
She burst out laughing. "Jeanie is spending her lunch hour over at your apartment with your roommate, Vicki. Something happened here last night between them that leads me to believe that lesbianism is about to reach a new high here in Clifton Heights."
"At least she's off my back."
"Or off your something," said Henry. "Pat will be fine, but must avoid carnal pleasure for a few days for fear of infecting someone, but she seems to rest easy. Maybe she's discovered the joys of an electric vibrator, or whatever. Anyway, I had a long talk with her about you and me and your future."
"Henry, I want some of--"
"Oh, yes, and Dr. Decker has gone to see his doctor about some problem he has which causes him to walk funny and keep his hands in front of his crotch. I'm sure he'll survive, but the whole matter of his ministrations to Pat yesterday make me suspicious." "I'd believe anything of this crowd."
"That leaves you and me. How'd you like to take a backpack trip with me across the great nation of America."
"You and me? On the road."
"You asked me to take you with me when you were pixilated."
Maria colored with pleasure. "I hardly remember that, but of course you and Dad were great friends."
"When we get to the East Coast we'll grab a boat for Europe and head for Paris, the dream city of romantic princesses."
"Henry, I'd love that!" She clapped her hands. "I've never traveled anywhere except Mexico. Oh, Henry, I'd really love that."
Henry went to the door, closed it and locked it. Then he began to take off his clothes. "If you love that, you'll adore this." he said and advanced on her with his prick pointing up like a knife.
"Oh, Henry, let me love it, let me suck it!" she cried.
"So soon after eating?" He thrust his cock into her mouth and groaned with pleasure at her hot, eager attack. This little girl, he thought, has come a long way in just over a week. She released his cock and used her satin saliva to jack off the stiff cock to an even tighter lock, as sex waves rose in him. "But, Henry, our Aztec idol--"
"Will never leave Clifton Heights," he said, throwing back the covers and diving for her cunt. "Slubbb," he went and she cried out in pleasure. "Ah--he said, coming up. Sold it to Pat for a half million. We'll have--plenty of money--" And he went back to sucking her as she sucked him, thinking of all the surprises Maria had in store for her. With plenty of money they'd have a fine trip and in Paris they'd meet Pat Locksley. At this point Pat would tell her that she was her natural mother, and start her on a career as a model, through her, Pat's, Paris contacts in business. With plenty of sex on the way, and after. By that time, thought Henry, as he dug his tongue into Maria's wet cunt, Pat and I can enjoy a little reunion of our own...
The filling station attendant along Coast Highway couldn't believe his eyes. Two guys drove in, in a big car. One wore a chauffeur's uniform, the other wore sports clothes. But when they pulled out twenty minutes later, one guy was dressed in a full dress suit, right in the middle of the day, and was wheeling himself in a wheelchair. He waited patiently until his companion appeared. Only now it was a woman instead of a chauffeur, dressed in a white satin blouse, a velvet miniskirt and boots. Very cute at that. The woman helped the dress-suit guy into the car, then stuck the wheelchair in the trunk and they took off, with the woman driving. The filling station attendant wondered if he'd made a mistake in leaving Missouri. Dangerous country out here!
-long luscious thrusts into Maria's body, holding her sweet buttocks, reaming it off into that sexy girl, feeling the beautiful rise to orgasm. Maria knowing him carnally, twisting crying "Henry. Henry. Fuck, fuck." Groaning, panting, babbling at her--"Faster, girl--hotter--oh, I'm feeling you--I'm getting there--Ah, oh, uhhh, such pleasant torture of sex organs grinding together, diving into the animal, celebrating the man-woman lock, straining, enjoying, speeding, thrusting, sweating, moving, tongue sucking, hot bodies slurping, her breasts aflame to his sex use of her, his guts straining to make this another work of art, work of feeling, of humanity.
Throbbing. "Ah, God, Henry--" Spurting "T-taking you Maria--going, going--"
Burning it off, getting it off. Making it.
And somewhere the Aztec idol grinning down the centuries.
