Bound In Tight Leather Thongs--The Beautiful Woman Shivered With Passionate Expectations!
SHE LIKED SEDUCING A MAN!
* * *
He selected a "Y" shaped body harness, a four-inch-wide cyclist's belt and mid-calf boots. One more inspection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror and Rod was secure in his belief that the visitor would be fascinated.
He fitted a black leather codpiece over his groin and shut the bedroom door behind him.
A chic woman stepped out of the industrial building's elevator. She knocked on the door in a hand gloved by Gucci.
"Come in, Karin."
The brunette opened the heavy door. It was dimly lit inside. She knew her way to the room he was always waiting in. Her heart beat faster just to be in the place he lived in. She liked the thought of seducing a man...
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
Crack!
The whip landed on her bare thighs. Her body twisted in pain. She grimaced and her flesh turned red showing the welt of his leather signature on her skin.
Crack!
The long black leather instrument sounded again as it marked her buttocks for the eleventh time. Her ass flesh was a crisscross of burning hot marks as the big man in the knee-high leather boots strutted around the dais and selected an as yet unmarred part of her naked body to lash.
Crack!
The whip whistled through the air and embedded itself in her shoulders. Her eyes were tightly clenched but the tears flowed out anyway. Her long blond hair was tousled and matted down over her face as she lay on her stomach, her arms and legs spread-eagled over the surface of the well-used dais.
"And one more just because I feel like it!"
He said it with his teeth clenched. His forehead was damp with perspiration from wielding the eight-foot braided leather whip. It sang through the air and landed with an echoing clear crack-across her back.
This time she couldn't keep from crying out. She tried not to, but a moanful "Oh" escaped her.
He tossed the warm whip onto a trunk and squatted down by her drooping head. He took a handful of her luxuriant hair and pulled her head up. Her face was red and the dark areas under her eyes showed fatigue. He forced her head back so she was looking into his face.
"I expect obedience from everyone! Just because you're in love with me doesn't give you the right to slough off. I want results at the end of each and every day. If not you will be expelled. Dig?"
"Yes, Rod."
He bent over, his black leather codpiece shielding his genitals. The rest of his muscular body was bare except for a crisscross of silver-studded leather straps across his chest. His wrists were clad in four-inch black leather bands with similar studs. He wore a black leather mask similar to the Lone Ranger's. These items and the heavy boots were all his followers ever saw him in.
His loft was a realm, anyone who entered it was a subject. His will was law. Anyone who questioned or protested anything at all had the option to submit or depart. That was ail. Submit or depart. There was no board of appeals, no debate, no provision for individual preference or desires. Rod's word was the place's constitution, supreme court, governor and anything else he wanted it to be.
Perhaps it is stretching it a bit to say he was God in that loft, but he considered himself God there and anyone who disagreed was an anathema.
Rod had developed a very simple system.
He bent over; a drop of sweat from his divine brow fell on the newest welt on the blond girl's back. He released the buckle on the heavy black leather restraint around her wrist. The chain securing it to the side of the dais clanked to the floor. Her arm was free for the first time in an hour. He'd actually only enforced his will on her bare flesh for a few minutes, but he had kept her spread-eagled for a long time before he'd bothered to punish her. She never knew when he was going to begin the chastisement so the anticipation added to her humiliation and suffering. It was a device he was quite proud of, an ingenious S and M variation of his own.
He released her other arm and then squatted at the other end of the cowhide-covered platform and unbuckled the leather from her ankles. He put his hand over her buttocks and felt the heat rising from the welts he had inflicted.
Rod returned to the head of the altar-like platform and squatted again. He grabbed a handful of her beautiful hair once more and yanked her head up again.
"Make your obeisance."
"Yes, Rod."
Her parched lips squeezed themselves together and she stretched her neck. She couldn't reach his foot to kiss his black boot He didn't budge. She pulled herself forward and stretched her neck more to plant her lips on his foot. Then the other one. Next she had to stretch even more and kiss his codpiece. As her face neared the leather loin covering she could see the outline of his cock. His prick made a serpentine coil behind the confining leather. She kissed it reverently.
"Thank yon, Rod."
"Now get up and get out. I want to go to a Broadway show tonight so when you've got enough money, buy two orchestra tickets to the best musical in town. Be here with the tickets by six and while you're out, pick up my suit at the cleaners. And don't be late! I want my martini promptly on time tonight."
"Yes, Rod."
"Get out."
The blond had to start calculating as she crawled laboriously off the submission platform. It was ten o'clock in the morning, hardly the time for erotic discipline. But Rod liked to do it that way. Once he had awakened her at four a.m. and made her stand in a tub of ice water for a half an hour because she'd forgotten to bring his cigars home the night before. She knew he'd devise something unusual for her because when she confessed she'd forgotten, he merely turned away from her and put a chalk mark on the slate bulletin board he maintained with the names of all devotees.
After he allowed her to get out of the icy tub he told her to have Eggs Benedict ready for everyone in the dormitory at eight o'clock. When she had protested that she didn't know how to make Eggs Benedict, he'd whacked the back of his hand across her pretty features and smugly gestured toward the book shelf.
"There's a cookbook. You can read. Breakfast for seven at exactly eight o'clock." And he went back to bed.
As she picked up her clothing she counted the things she had to do. Cleaning, one. Tickets, two. Buy vermouth for his cocktail, three.
She went to the dormitory part of the loft. It consisted of several single beds. The number of people staying there varied from night to night. Sometimes the occupants were on all-night assignments, sometimes new recruits were there who didn't work out and left shortly. The varying population made counting the people who lived there difficult. One day the girl who was cooking made a mistake and didn't prepare enough meat for dinner. She was denied food at that meal and all the next day. But the hunger she felt was not as humiliating as what happened to another girl. She had fucked up dinner�_"burned things, made a mess of it all.
The whole next day she had to stay in the community bathroom and wait till members of Rod's group came in to relieve themselves. Not only was she made to witness all the defecation but she had to clean their asses afterward. The girl had left the cult soon after. Couldn't take the discipline.
Rhonda didn't want to leave. She had no other place to go anyway. She'd never go home again. In fact, "home" didn't seem very real to her anymore. This was home. Rod was home.
She couldn't stand the water falling on her marred flesh so she took a very abbreviated shower. She went over her priorities. It was Rod's custom to send his followers out penniless with instructions to bring back this, that or the other. He didn't care how they acquired them as long as they were ready when he wanted them. The men often stole things. The women would sell their bodies or steal. Bogus checks were not uncommon. Rod was not the least bit concerned how his disciples carried on outside as long as his will was obeyed and the police were not banging on the metal door of his inner sanctum loft.
Rhonda, her blond hair tumbling out of the shower cap, began to select the clothing she'd wear. It was an Indian summer day; she could go in a halter and jeans if she wanted but the marks on her flesh made that unlikely. She'd wear the Indian cotton smock top. Sandals would do because her jeans would cover the marks made by the restraints around her ankles. With a Greek wool bag slung over her shoulder, she wrote down her errands before she forgot, and then left the loft.
During the daytime, the building's elevator was usually full of supplies for the various garment factories in the building on Manhattan's West Side. The garment district was close enough to Greenwich Village for her to walk in one direction there or in the other to the shopping center of town. Today she decided to work the Village, she hadn't been there for a long time.
Because of the condition of her flesh she couldn't very well trick for money. It was a weekday and panhandling would bring in slim pickings. Rhonda decided to pick up some man, give him a blow job, and make a few bucks that way. It was lunch hour. She went to an orange juice and hot dog stand where a lot of sanitation workers added shit food to their home-made lunches. No wonder so many of them are overweight, she told herself as she watched a group of them wolf down the starchy foodstuffs.
"I'd like an orange drink, please."
She made sure the sanitation workers noticed her low neckline as she fished in her purse for change. Her blond tresses cascaded over her shoulders and fell forward as she moved things around more and more frantically looking for the coins she knew damn well weren't there.
"Twenty-five cents, miss."
"I'm so embarrassed. I seem to have come without my change purse."
"Here, girl, I'll, spring for a drink. Take it out of this... "
"I can't let you... "
"It's nothing. You'd do the same for me."
"Well, thank you very much. Here's to you."
Rhonda sipped her orange concoction and smiled beguilingly at the big-bellied young man who bought her the drink. His companions smiled and smirked and turned away. They figured if he had this much of a head start, he'd probably pick her up.
"I'm Bill Pierce."
"I'm Rhonda Talbot."
"Hi."
"Hi."
They chatted amiably, all the while Rhonda let her delicious tits show to advantage.
"I'm really upset I'm broke. That means I'll have to walk home; I don't even have a subway token on me." With little hints like this she let the smiling Bill Pierce know she'd be willing to earn a few bucks. When he incredulously asked if she tricked for money, she acted surprised at the mere thought. She explained she lived with a guy she was madly in love with, omitting that several other girls did so too, and that she wouldn't think of giving her pussy to anyone else. Why, such a thing would be unthinkable!
Far from being unthinkable, Rod encouraged his women to fuck for dough; he had expensive tastes.
"Just bring what I ask, do your duty and be on time; otherwise, you'll pay!" That was Rod's creed.
Bill was getting hotter and hotter watching her twitch and pose with those big jugs standing out. He could see her sizable nipples through the material of her blouse. And the curve of her hips turned him on as well.
"Do you give head?"
"I'm very versatile, Bill." As she said it she stretched her head back, giving a long line to her neck. Bill ground his teeth together at her suggestive pose.
"Well, er, what say I take you for a drive?"
"In a garbage truck?"
"Have you ever ridden in one?"
"No."
"Then it'll be a new experience for you. Aren't you interested in new experiences?"
"Like a new man, for instance?"
"For instance."
"Where would we go?"
"The West Side Highway is still under repair, I could drive up onto it and we could look at the skyline of lower Manhattan. We can even see the Statue of Liberty from the spot I'm thinking of. Wouldn't you like to be alone in Manhattan? We could get to know each other very, very well."
"Alone? I'd feel insecure. How about one of your buddies there joining us? Maybe a couple. I like men."
"You want more than one?"
"I sound greedy, don't I? Frankly, I feel I'm safer in a crowd. You're nice enough to buy me a drink, I'll give you head for three bucks apiece. And I'm experienced." Bill was flabbergasted. These Village chicks were into everything. She had a luscious mouth. What the hell.
"Just a minute. Let me ask."
He turned around and stepped over to his coworkers. Rhonda watched as he conveyed her offer in a low tone. The men looked up at her and listened to the proposition intently. Shortly Bill came swaggering back very self-consciously. He was certain the whole place had heard his low-voiced conversation.
"Three of 'em dig your offer. Will you handle four of us?"
"I'd love to. And you can be first."
Without further negotiation the men left the orange juice stand and climbed into their big white truck.
Quickly they hoisted Rhonda into the cab.
Bill piled in after her, brushing against her ass as he did so. Once inside he turned over the ignition and turned the truck into a street leading to the highway undergoing repairs.
Down by the World Trade Center buildings he stopped the big vehicle and suggested they get out where they'd have more room. The four men in the truck formed a circle around Rhonda on the pavement. She was shielded from view by the truck between herself and the granite-jungle of Manhattan. On the other side of the deserted highway was the wide Hudson River and beyond that New Jersey. Since there was a union action delaying the repairs, no workmen were about. The garbage collectors and Rhonda had the big empty highway to themselves. A strong breeze moved through her hair, occasionally exposing her lovely young face with just the beginnings of hard lines around the eyes and mouth.
Rod would get a laugh out of her situation, she mused to herself as she knelt down on the pavement and Bill moved before her face, his hands undoing the buttons on his smelly overalls.
As he pulled out his long thin cock Rhonda noticed that it had a big head. That would take some doing, she told herself. She glanced at her wristwatch. She didn't dare take too long; she had a lot of things to do.
She had to get his long cock at the proper angle to suck it. She got down on her knees and brought his long, thin prick toward her face for inspection. It was darker than his skin and very limp. She brought it to her lips and put a couple of inches of it in her mouth, holding the weight of his prick in her hand.
She sucked slowly and tentatively until she got a feeling for the kind of pressure that pleased him. He seemed relaxed but not excited. She supposed they were all a little nervous being together like this. Alone, they'd be more aggressive, she knew.
Rhonda cupped his balls in her free hand and scratched at the crinkled tight flesh with her fingernails.
Gently, very gently. That brought the blood to his cock and it took shape. With her mouth anchoring it at one end, the blood slowly flowed into it to make it resemble one of those gracefully arching natural rock bridges.
It was so long that it didn't look like a cock. It was expanding, not getting fatter but actually getting longer.
It was freakishly long. As it headed toward its true length, he seemed self-conscious about the size of it.
One of the other men let out a low whistle. By now all of them were rubbing their crotches or had their cocks out of their overalls. Only Bill had his overalls down around his ankles as he stood there being sucked on the windy West Side Highway.
Rhonda figured he'd be more relaxed and cum quicker if she acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. His cock had finished growing. It got ramrod hard and all its veins stood out. Yet it kept that rainbow arch. The head was swelling. It didn't get out of proportion but it did flesh out. Hard as it had become, it no longer looked narrow.
"Jesus, Bill, you're a threat to the women of America." Rhonda could feel all the swelling his cock was going through while it was inside her mouth. As she descended, the next few inches made her throat feel sore. She concentrated on making him feel good. She could feel the guy next to her shoulder jacking himself off, he'd be easy to do. She slowly let the natural lubricating effect of her mouth moisten the skin of his cock so it would easily slide in her throat. She found that by coming up from below and following the arc of his cock, she could come down on it in slow motion.
The image of a dolphin arching in the air and reentering the water came to mind.
He didn't push or move much at all. His cock seemed to be going farther into her throat than any she'd ever sucked and it didn't seem such a monumental feat. She took what she could slowly and let it slide at its own pace. That made it seem easy, and it was easy. She was doing a lot of movement with her back and sitting up and down on her haunches as she went up, over, and down.
Bill had a new sensation of pleasure as her mouth touched parts of his cock with a new pressure and expanded the sensations he was feeling. His hips joined the movements subtly. It was getting better.
Her mouth bridged the distance between his abdomen and the head of his cock by opening and closing, going back and forth. It was a thrill to them both. His cock gave a tingle to her throat as it moved silkily up and down her tonsils. She bobbed back and forth on his hot cock as deeply as she could. He placed his big hands on her collar bones and thrust forward with his hips at a quick short pace. His long cock made the flesh in her throat burn.
She was stimulated by her sucking and felt a spot in her panties growing moist. She pulled off his cock a bit and glanced down at it. It was quite smooth on the top, but her lower lip and tongue could feel the roughness of its underside. His veins were fat, just like the cock she'd had her very first time. Everafter she had been hooked on heavily veined cocks.
He put one hand in her hair and directed her mouth back down his throbbing prick. His cock descended to the deepest point in her throat. It went even farther. It got past the uncomfortable spot where it made her gag.
He drove it deep so gradually it wasn't an intrusion but seemed to be letting her throat slowly expand to accommodate its impressive length. She found something new, some muscles in her mouth she'd never known were there before. She eagerly tried them out.
Astonishingly, Rhonda found room in her mouth for her tongue to move around. She let it crawl snake-like over the side of his cockhead. It undulated back and forth, rubbing against the veins on its bottomside. She brought the tongue forward in her mouth so it moved up the length of his cock, then drew it back; all the time he kept up the fucking motion with his hips in the air, his weight resting comfortably on the balls of his feet.
She tried to coil her tongue around his cock. Her spiralling tongue stretched itself till the base of it hurt and she let it relax and fall back to a more normal position.
"That's it, girlie, suck his hot prick."
Immediately she pushed her mouth forward, straining for all she was worth to get as much of his cock into it as she could. She went back and forward. Again and again she traveled its length with her lips.
Bill's arm muscles were tightening and his head went back.
"Jesus, he's coming!"
Rhonda pushed her face to his belly as quickly as she could. Her body felt as if she were rushing, actually rushing, to engulf his cock.
"Suck, baby, suck! Oh, suck!"
Bill's words, similar to Rod's, made her lose all control and she greedily strained her neck to get his cock down as deeply as she could. She didn't know what she was doing; all she could feel was the heat building up in her body, her tits tensing, her throat stretching, her eyes watering, and her mouth aching from the wide-open anxiousness that made her engulf as much cock as she could.
"Ahhhh!"
He let out a gut-based rumble and his legs started quivering uncontrollably as his cum came racing up his cock and splashed into her. With each heartbeat, his cock flexed. Gobs of cum were rushing through it.
Desperately, she moved her tongue, trying to heighten the sensation for them both. His cum was plentiful and she found she couldn't take it all. She had to pull off. Instantly it started shrinking as it hit the colder air.
"That's some head-job. Woo!"
He raised her up, though she could hardly stand. The next sanitation worker wasn't as considerate as Bill.
He figured he was paying for it so he had the right to get it as he wanted, when he wanted. Selfish men were no news to Rhonda. When he began turning her toward him she knew from the touch he wasn't going to let her catch her breath.
She was back on her knees instantly. His fat pudgy prick was in her face. She gobbled it into her mouth.
Two strokes and he spilt his seed on her tongue. That was it.
He was red in the face from his short exercise.
"Man, she got me so hot watching her suck off Billie, I was too hot not to trot." Humph, thought Rhonda.
The other two dicks were nothing special although one had a nice way of swaying his hips as she bobbed on his organ. He was sweet, probably he'd be tender and wonderful in bed.
They let her off near the Fourteenth Street subway stop. She waved goodbye as matrons with shopping bags stared at the pretty young girl hopping down from the sanitation truck.
"Would you look at that, Essie, they're even hitching rides on garbage trucks. My stars, what kind of people will the next generation of mothers be?"
"Just like the mothers before 'em, honey," chirped Rhonda as she walked past the flabbergasted shoppers.
By the time she'd gotten together enough money for her errands it was nearly time for his martini glass to go in the refrigerator. She hurried to the loft. The dress manufacturers on the floors below were just beginning to close up and the elevators were all full.
Rod had a talent for noticing if his glass wasn't chilled sufficiently. He'd been furious last time. He'd made her stand naked on the roof begging his forgiveness all the time the others ate their supper. She had been humiliated.
Before she could get into the elevator it had closed its doors. It was ascending again for another batch of laborers before she could get through the crowd and bang on the door. Shit! She glanced at her watch. She'd better go up the stairs. Six flights later she panted into the loft. She instantly put his glass in the refrigerator and then took a deep breath.
Rhonda hung his cleaning up and laid out clothing for the theatre. She hoped he would like the show, it was always better when he did. She had had to let the scalper eat her cunt but at least by granting him that favor, she was assured of good seats and Rod insisted on excellent seats.
When she had put the tickets in the proper section of his sealskin wallet, she noticed it was stuffed with hundred dollar bills. He must have sold some of the pills, she thought.
The door to his Achievement Room was closed. This meant anybody not inside was not wanted inside. No one ever attempted to open it till Rod did so from the inside. This was one rule he'd never pronounced; good sense just told all his followers it was prudent not to. From behind the door she heard loud smacks. She knew what that meant. Rod had a male stripped bare and was delighting himself with the belt.
Although Rhonda couldn't hear it as she slouched into the dormitory for a much-needed nap, behind the door to the Achievement Room the smacks were punctuated by guttural orders and meek replies of "Yes, Rod.
Yes, Rod."
CHAPTER TWO
Rod had a throne-like chair which had been acquired from a warehouse in Brooklyn. It had been a stage piece in the show "Sherlock Holmes" in the early nineteen hundreds. It fit Rod's purposes beautifully.
He'd seen it first in a photograph in the apartment of a sex partner many years before. The friend was a theater historian and had a picture of the production among his collection. Rod had spent the better part of three months looking up records, or more accurately, having others look up the records of who produced the show, exactly when and at what theatre. He spent valuable time going to back copies of theatrical business correspondence and files to find out which transfer companies might have carted the scenery away after its use and what warehouses it was stored in.
He located the production and the warehouse, but a fire during World War II had destroyed all records of the sets and props of that show. In 1961 the warehouse owners had auctioned off everything more than thirty years old in a streamlining move. A set designer who lived in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, had saved the chair by renting it from the warehouse for a movie about Dracula. It had been outside the warehouse during the auction. Therefore, when Rod went to look for it, not trusting such a matter as personal selection of a throne to anyone else, the chair was there, covered in cardboard and labeled with a tag: "12-472-A, Carved Walnut Chair, Lions' Heads and Claws, Victorian-Gothic." Presently, sprawled over the chair, one booted leg up and dropping over the arm, Rod sat happily ensconced in his prize, its black draperies hiding most of its ornate carving. Only one lion-head arm showed.
Rod sneered from his chair on the dais with a black leather tight-fitting cap over his hair. He was decorated with a black leather pair of straps across his chest. This pair had large metal rings strategically placed at each nipple. They met in back in a buckle which also cupped the codpiece which the young man on his knees before Rod was requesting he be allowed to take off.
"Please, Rod. Let me take your jock off. I'll do anything for you if you'll let me suck you. Please."
"What will you pay for the privilege, you pussy-whipped scum bag?"
"I brought an ounce of grass with me. It's Colombian."
"An ounce? An ounce?" roared Rod as lie got to his feet. His whip whistled through the air and cracked inches from the prostrated man's ear.
"You think I'll let you near my cock for a measly ounce of weed? You're repulsive!" Rod lay the whip across the boy's back. His whole body flinched.
The tip of the whip caught his scrotum and the intense pain caused his face to twist in agony. He dared not cry out. Making any sound at all drove Rod to flay the air with the leather-braided whip which had more than once left some whimperers unconscious. Worse, one chronic complainer had been banished and was never allowed to come back. The youth didn't want that so he bit his lip and let the pain ricochet through his body silently.
When the whip was quiet and Rod had returned to his chair, hooking one heel on the edge and rubbing his enclosed genitalia in satisfaction, the youth volunteered to correct his mistake. "I brought my credit card."
"That's better. Make it out for one hundred dollars for scented candles." Obediently the young man rose from his recumbent posture and padded across the room to a Spanish wood cupboard with a wooden grill work. The furniture would be quite attractive if the room held much light. But only a few candles, unscented, lit the chamber. Rod liked to keep it mysterious.
His young victim could hardly tell the cabinet from the dark-draped walls. The room was very dark, even the rug was dark. The ceiling had been painted black. At the cabinet he opened the door and took out the charge plate machine, filled in a blank, marked it "scented candles" and signed his name next to the total, one hundred dollars. "Take your purchase " The young man replaced his credit card in his wallet and put it back in his clothing at the side of the room and closed the cabinet after taking out a small red vigil light, placing it in one of the paper bags on the shelf.
He dropped his purchase by his shoes. He could toss it into a trash can on the way home.
Rod smirked to himself as the dolorous young man retraced his steps across the room and returned to the submissive posture on all fours before Rod's chair.
"Where is my ounce?"
The good looking young man calmly got to his feet, went back to his clothing, got the grass out of his shoulder bag and brought it to Rod on the dais. He walked backward down the two steps from the chair's platform. Rod opened the clear plastic bag and pinched some of the grass between Ins fingers, brought it to his nose and sniffed. He held it up to the limited light. He hefted it in his hand.
"Put it in the offertory bowl."
The young man again got up off the floor, took the bag from Rod and crossed to the other side of the Achievement Room beyond the familiar table with its moveable sections, weights, pulleys and restraints. He placed his grass in a large brass bowl with Oriental carvings inside and outside. It stood on an ornate gargoyle-carved fern stand, another of Rod's treasures.
Inside the bowl was a whole ham. There was also a pair of antique earrings and an envelope of cash. It had been an average day for Rod.
The sad-eyed youth was half way back across the room when Rod's booming voice barked out, "Kneel!" Instantly the youth dropped to his knees and remained perfectly still.
"Are you prepared for total service?"
"Yes, Rod."
"Let me see."
Rod picked up a riding crop from an assortment of such instruments in a large box near the chair and descended the steps to the crouching youth. The kneeling follower reached behind him and spread his cheeks wide apart, arching his ass up in the air for Rod's inspection. Rod stood behind him, well balanced on both booted feet. He ran the tip of the riding crop around the sphincter of the man's ass and tentatively poked it into the tight opening.
The patiently crouching youth made no sound. Rod drove the first few inches of the crop into his puckered hole. He withdrew it. A shudder ran through his follower's body. Rod examined the crop. It was clean.
Rod walked around the boy, letting each foot make an ominous noise as he strode the victim's perimeter.
Abruptly, with the spring of a wild animal, Rod straddled the bent youth and with a hand on each end of the riding crop brought it down in front of the youth's face. He knew what to do. His mouth opened and he took the crop in his mouth as if it were a bridle.
Placing his weight on the lad's ass by sitting on his buttocks, Rod pulled back on the crop with both hands and acted as a rider atop his horse. The younger man's head went back and Rod pleasurably turned his head this way and that, yanked it backward and let it droop forward. He dismounted. He whacked his steed on the hindquarters just for the practice of swinging the crop through the air and letting it land on bare flesh.
Next he stood in front of the crouching visitor and poked his boot toward the prone face. The obedient youth, familiar with such nuances of direction, opened his mouth and began licking the toe of the boot reverently.
"You shit, lock harder!"
Eagerly, his prostrate admirer licked with greater gusto. When Rod got tired of watching the tongue wash the leather, he switched feet and then climbed into his chair again. He let the kneeling man wait for the next humiliation Rod would devise.
"Rod?"
"Speak."
"May I service you?"
"With what part of your body."
"Any part or all of it, I'm here for your pleasure."
"I know that. I require you to be completely at my disposal when you are here. The motto over my door is the same as over the entrance to Hell, according to that Wop poet. You'll serve all right, but at my pleasure."
"Whenever you're ready, you fabulous man."
"Hungry turd! Curb your greed! I decide what will be done!" He whacked the riding crop across his crouching follower's back.
"I decide when I'll pay attention to you! I decide how you'll submit yourself. I decide how much adoration you're allowed to pay me! Slime! Pig piss!"
He disturbed the air with the thrashing riding crop which landed loudly on the marred back. Tearing rapidly and biting his lip, the curled-up young man whimpered and twitched under the demeaning strokes.
"You want me to forgive you, don't you?"
"I'll do anything to make up for displeasing you."
"Sure as shit you will. Come!"
Submissively he looked up to see what his idol meant by, "Come!" Rod was sitting on his large lion-headed chair and had one heel hooked over the edge of it. His black boots still glistened at the toes from his lickings. Rod's index finger was crooked and beckoning the prostrate youth toward the dais. This meant he had to crawl up the steps naked and use his mouth to minister to Rod.
From the angle at which the leather-clad master was sitting, with his buns right oh the edge of the chair and his codpiece hanging over the edge, the welted youth knew Rod's anus was to be adored.
"Pucker and advance!"
Without hesitation, he began climbing up the carpeted steps on all fours. His balls hung down and his cock trailed along the carpet. It was semi-hard just listening to Rod's authoritarian voice. "Pucker" meant to have his mouth ready to plant a kiss on whatever the riding crop pointed to. Rod was patting his asshole with it.
Zeroing in on the rosette of dark flesh between the two round moons, the crawler paused to take in breath before he pressed his parched lips to Rod's crinkled hole. He planted a lover's kiss on the brown sunburst. He paid his adoration again and again. The riding crop eventually poked him backward on the forehead and he retreated from the exposed asshole, drawing his first fresh breath in minutes.
He sighed deeply as he rested on his haunches.
"Come to the john, I want to put my scent on you the way animals do in the forest. You may walk." Quickly and without questioning, the young man got to his feet and went to the ornate John Rod maintained for sexual purposes only. All its fixtures were black and the lights were peach colored, giving an unreal illumination to the chamber. There were chains hanging from the ceiling on sturdy eye hooks affixed to the building's metal beams. The chains could be adjusted to any height and frequently suspended women as well as men. Once they suspended a freakish married couple bound back to back with their feet in the toilet, their bodies hanging in the air while a group of Rod's closest spiritual brothers were relieving themselves at will.
The john trip was a treat Rod allowed this fellow because he had unquestioningly donated a hundred dollars on the charge plate. Rod knew the money was as good as in the bank. He liked this inexperienced masochist because he was willing to spend money to be humiliated the way Rod liked to humiliate.
When they emerged from the john, the slender youth was dry once more. He had been instructed to smear his anal canal with grease. Rod was in the mood to fuck.
The shivering victim stood before the wooden table with the six-inch thick legs and awaited instructions.
Rod often fucked his devotees oh the table, occasionally on the floor, once in a while in bed, not infrequently on the roof, and in any other place which took his fancy.
Rod worked industriously at developing new and different arrangements, just to stimulate his cooperative followers. He was a very good showman and knew half his strength came from outguessing the eager disciples who came to his West Side loft.
"I choose to stand. Crouch on the edge of the table. I want your ass, not your face." The youth was a frequent visitor; he came as often as he could afford to come. He knew that Rod's disinterested expression meant Rod wanted him bent over on his knees on the table, his ass sticking prominently over the edge. Rod could stand at the end of the table, place his hands on the boy's ass, and fuck forcefully from a standing position.
"Pricilla!" bellowed Rod.
From the far end of the room came a heavy-set girl with her hair in a single braid down her back. She silently padded to Rod, wearing Japanese sandals, blue jeans and a shapeless top.
"When's the last time you washed your cunt?"
"Sunday. You told me not to take a shower till you gave me permission. That's four days, Rod."
"Good, Pricilla. Get in the full lotus and cradle his face in your lap. He can't stand the smell of cunt and it will impress upon him the degree of subservience I expect from flawed mediocrities such as himself. Up." Pricilla hoisted her hefty self onto the table. Standing between the leather straps, the hinges and the chains, she disrobed, revealing a sagging tire of flesh around the middle, a puffy pudenda and rolls of fat everywhere.
Her gigantic breasts sagged pointlessly. She assumed the full lotus position and the youth allowed her to plant his face on her ankles so he could breath no air except that which flowed over the unwashed hairs of her flabby cunt.
The youth had been coming to his adored sadist's loft for six months and had never yet seen the cock which brought him back time after humiliating time. Maybe today he'd be lucky, maybe today Rod would allow him to see his fabled organ.
He thought quickly. Did he dare turn his head and glimpse at the undoubtedly mammoth cock which forced his flesh apart so frequently? The thing which deterred him was not the fear of a whipping or being burned with a lit candle or hot pieces of metal or even the cat-o'-nine-tails, but the unthinkable fear that Rod would not allow him to come back again. His heart refused to allow him to dwell on such a catastrophe.
He did not draw his fade away from the odious pussy. He did not turn to look at the phallic instrument about to force its way into his body.
Rod reached behind and undid the buckle which held his sizable codpiece in place. It flopped down between his legs, releasing his swollen cock and cramped balls. They filled quite a bit of space between his well-muscled thighs. He danced from foot to foot, letting air circulate around them and letting them unfold naturally.
Rod's circumcised cockhead was considerably larger than his shaft That shaft was long and blue-veined.
The tremendous girth of it had attracted attention since he was thirteen years old. By the age of fifteen he had learned to make money from his supernatural attribute.
As Rod flounced his genitalia, he remembered the first time he'd been sexually active with a man. He'd made five dollars allowing an old queen to suck him off when he delivered two gallons of paint to the man on his way home from his part-time job at the variety store.
Looking at the inviting ass upturned for his pleasure and the Buddha-like cunt patiently reposing on the table before his eyes, his past flooded back to him. He'd traveled a long road since he first discovered that something beside piss could come out of the head of his cock. His formative years in Topeka were light years ago, but they flashed vividly to mind.
How well he remembered the delighted look on the queer's face that day as the man opened his door and saw the strapping muscular youth standing there with the two gallons of paint. He'd been invited in for some orangeade. He'd gotten the money for the delivery and a dollar tip. Before he'd finished the drink he knew the man was eyeing his crotch and ostentatiously licking his lips in hint to the teenager.
The other boys had talked about going to the park after their paper routes and before dinner and getting blow jobs from the geriatric set. Sometimes the guys would turn over in the summer grass and let the young boys fuck them in the ass. Some of them had even gotten gifts of money. Rod's family had been socially acceptably poor, but the economies this necessitated burned under Rod's skin and he never missed an opportunity to make a buck. The old farts in the park provided the necessary source of pocket money. Soon he was making more than pocket money.
So that afternoon delivering the paint, when the man made overtures to sex, Rod had quickly quoted a price. It was readily met.
The man had taken his Levi's jacket and hung it up. He offered a drink; being older, he knew Rod would find the offer of a drink an adventure. Looking back, Rod suspected he'd gotten a well-watered Scotch, but at the time it was nectar from Olympus. He'd felt drunk. Since it was a new experience, it was like a trip to Heaven.
The man led him to the bedroom, dimmed the lights as they entered and turned the radio to one of those wallpaper music stations. Rod remembered his curiosity at the jar of Vaseline on the night table.
The man took off his clothing. Rod had done the same. He showed a slender and muscled but not fully developed body. His hips looked almost babyish, except that his thigh muscles were long and full. It was apparent that he was going to be a big man. His stomach was adolescent-flat and the man took great appreciation in that. A trickle of hair came up from Ins navel and fell like a waterfall down to his cock and piled up just above it.
At that age, kids grow in sections. Their ears, their nose, their arms or their feet are out of proportion to the rest of their bodies. Rod had been no exception. His feet were too big for his legs. And his cock was raging to full size with the help of a lot of exercise. Sometimes he exercised it five and six times a day. Sex thrilled him!
The man had sucked in his breath at the sight of Rod's first-class cock. It was long, well-formed and boasted a broad high cap on the head.
Going by instinct, Rod spread his feet apart to parade rest and said, "How about getting down on your knees in front of me so I can stand up and finish my drink while you're working on my dick?" He settled his stance and placed his hands on the man's shoulders. The man lifted his limp cock to put the head of it in his mouth. He sucked it in and continued to suck, pulling in the length of it. A few trips the length and it was firm; once more and it was as hard as a fifteen-year-old can get it, which is harder than it often gets in later years. And it was hot, so hot it was almost steaming.
The experienced cocksucker swallowed Rod's prodigious length with ease. Its head, being oversized for the cock it was on, was a thick thing in his throat. Thanks to practice, he easily handled Rod's shaft and he was able to suck up and down it quickly or slowly, depending on the inspiration of the moment.
It got hotter as he stroked and the man's mouth was expertly tightening each time he descended. Rod remembered how hot the man's mouth had been. Thinking about it now, that had been a turning point in his life. How many times before had he been sucked off? How many times after? Yet he remembered that particular session. It had been a milestone.
He remembered saying in his naivete, "Do you want me to fuck you in the mouth?" The man had happily agreed and grabbed his own cock and began beating it before Rod had had a chance to drive his thrilling prick into his willing throat.
Rod held the man's head in his hands and flopped his head back. His black, curly, thick hair, and the thick vein that stood out on his neck and his bulging arm muscles made the man aware of his own hard-on.
The man who'd ordered the paint closed his fist around his cock again and kept time with Rod's strokes.
Rod's John tried to jack off to the same rhythm as the fucking in his mouth, but he quickly got very hot and was afraid he'd cum. So he began gently running his loose fingers along Rod's cock like a milking machine starting up.
Sensing the man's temperament, an ability Rod thanked his lucky stars he had, he began fucking him more slowly in the mouth. He was tentative at first. Rod had always had a good sense of timing. The man's cooperative lips told him he could speed up. He rammed his dick into him all the way, several times. He varied his thrusts with circular motions. He got to liking it and pulled the man's bobbing head farther onto his cock, going up on his toes as he did so. He was getting hot and forced the man's head harder onto his organ.
He did it quicker. The man was beating his meat in a panic. Ron deliberately fucked his mouth hard. He got enjoyment out of causing the man to moan. It was power! Sexual power! Here he was at fifteen making a fully grown man quiver and shake with the thrill of his cock. He ruled the world!
Before he knew it, he was shooting quick hot spurts of cum into the kneeling man's mouth.
"Take it! Jesus, take it! Ohhhh!"
"Umph, umph, unnnghhh!"
Before the heat had left his cock, Rod pulled his instrument out of the hot chamber. The last spurt of cum sprang from its swollen head and splattered on the man's nose.
"Oh!"
Some ironic twist of nature made Rod delight in seeing his cum mar the countenance before him. He got even more satisfaction from humiliating the adult with cum on his face than he did in climaxing himself. Rod wondered for years why that should be so.
His empty cock was out of the man's throat. Rod started looking for something to wipe it off with. The man got to his feet, sighed with satisfaction and reached for a towel under the bed.
So Rod mused to himself about his past while looking at the subservient ass now offered for his pleasure. It had all led to this. He was able to make a sizable profit from the magnificent way his body had developed and the way his mind was able to turn other people's hang-ups to his financial advantage. Yet, as he wielded his straps and chains, his whips and burning candles and strips of leather, he sought some other satisfaction. It was a vague but real desire.
To avert the gnawing of his conscience, he stepped to the sideboard of his luxurious submission apparatus and took a white, candle from the stock there. He struck a match and lit the ten-inch candle.
"Oh!"
The exclamation of surprise was from his prostrate and patient follower crouched on the table. He was feeling the hot wax drip on the small of his back.
"Shut up! Priscilla, get out."
Priscilla unfolded her fleshy legs, plopped down off the table and left the room.
As the subsequent drops of wax landed in a colony on his backbone and the base of the lit candle was embedded in it, Rod patiently waited for it to cool sufficiently to hold the candle in place. When it was firmly secured, he took his hand away. It was a secondary thrill, but still a thrill, to fuck a victim with a lighted candle affixed to his body. It gave the poor sap something more to fret about.
Ha! Rod told himself, they want the most exotic sex thrill available and I'm it!
That was why he could demand such outrageous fees. B. T. Barnum's motto came to his mind. He felt supreme.
"Here's what you came for."
"May I please see it this time?"
Rod didn't answer. He liked not to answer questions.
Placing one foot heavily in front of the other, Rod walked around the table and reached for a chain hanging from it onto the floor. At the other end of the chair was a black leather collar with shiny silver studs in it. The smooth surface of the leather had the bright metal studs sticking up like pyramids. The rough side of the leather had sharp points sticking out of it. The prostrate youth with the candle on the small of his back stretched his neck as Rod began to buckle the collar around his obedient neck. The sharp metal studs dug into his flesh as Rod tightened the collar. The other end of the chain was bolted to the heavily timbered table.
Four other chains hung from the table as well. These were affixed to smaller leather bands about two inches wide. Rod fastened his guest's wrists in the bands. At his ankles, sturdy black leather restraints firmly held his feet in position.
There was one more strap to bind him to the smooth wooden pleasure board. It went around his ribcage.
The heavy metal buckle was fastened and Rod stepped back to view his handiwork. The obedient man was face down on the flat surface, his knees bent and his face looking at the grain of the wood in the table. Where his hands were clasped in the leather restraints there were deep grooves cut by the fingernails of frenzied men and women who had preceded him on Rod's table of pleasure. His bare ass stuck up invitingly.
As the leather strap tightened around his torso, he whimpered slightly. That made Rod feel very good. His chest puffed up as he strutted to the foot of the table. In the realm of S and M sex, Rod knew he was Numero Uno.
Standing at the foot of the table looking at the ass poked outward for his exclusive pleasure and personal release, Rod smiled to himself. As he went to the cupboard on the wall to select a whip he hummed to himself a song by the brothers Gershwin. As he fondled the leather and metal instruments, he burst into the words, "Treat me rough... " The prone man on the table, his expectant heart beating madly, wondered why his adored sadist was singing. He could only hope that it signaled a sensational session.
Rod turned around to see how the candle was burning. It was melting at the top, ready to drip down. He left the whiprack and got closer so he could watch the wax run down the side of the candle. He wanted to be close when the hot drop touched his skin.
It beaded at the top of the candle... Rod's eyes glistened as it swelled and then rushed down the side of the wax cylinder so fast the eye could not follow its descent.
"Ahhh!"
The heated ball of liquid wax touched his bound captive. Rod smiled proudly. He returned to the rack. The braided leather whip? No. The wide belt with the half inch holes in it? No. The studded belt? No. His eyes fell on the tit clamps. Hmmm. An interesting variation crossed his mind. He didn't feel in the mood to use the metal tit clamps but his hundred dollar trick didn't know that. He took the clamps from the rack and slowly approached the young man's head.
"Lookup!"
The young man instantly raised his head with wide-opened eyes. He saw the clamps of steel and spring with the hard rubber tips and drew in his breath. He remembered.
"Want a little titillation?"
He was afraid to answer. Rod waited for a few beats and placed them on the table close to his face. Rod half smiled to himself. That would do the trick.
He returned to the rack. None of the dozens of items patiently waiting there turned him on. He closed the cupboard and returned to the table.
His victim did not know if Rod had selected an implement or not. He could only crouch there, prayerfully anticipating Rod's pleasure.
Between the bare feet of his victim, Rod planted himself on his feet and sucked in his breath. The moment of truth had arrived. He liked fucking, but his ego demanded that each time he do it with a fresh flourish that no other S and M expert could match. Rod was his own challenge. He prided himself on outdoing himself every time he performed. It kept him young.
Under the table was a shelf which held several exotic cans and bottles. It had a roll of paper towels, a domestic brand, purchased on sale. He had a favorite dildo there which had been a Christmas gift from a faithful admirer. He was really more than an admirer, he was a sponsor. Rod still retained a special feeling for Boris. Boris had introduced him to discipline. If only Boris was around now. Rod knew he could still learn things from the bald-headed giant with one gold earring. Boris had been the inspiration for the genie in the bottle used in a television show, a series of magazine ads, two novels, a movie, and the private lives of thousands of masochistic people. Rod's ambition in life was to once again make it with Boris. Till then he did the best he could.
Rod bent his sexy back and took a tube of commercial lubricant from the shelf under the table. He didn't give a shit about the asshole he was about to penetrate, he wanted something to lubricate his cock so it wouldn't get sore while he fucked.
Once his cock was sufficiently swabbed in the jelly, he took a gob of it and poked it ruthlessly into the puckered sphincter of his bound visitor.
"Ohhh!"
Rod disliked the sound his victim made. He replaced the lubricant on its shelf and walked to the cupboard again. On the bottom shelf he found what he was looking for, a chain with a hard wooden ball affixed to it.
The ball was covered in black leather. The sturdy chain was about ten inches long, extending from either side.
It had a strong ring snap which was adjustable. He smiled to himself as he remembered how he'd acquired it.
A former visitor had annoyed him. In the middle of a session, when the whip was zinging through the air and the ashtray was full of roaches from a chemically treated weed, he'd stopped flaying the person on the pleasure board and unfastened the many restraints holding the person to the board. He'd ordered that person out of the place until he could learn to hold his tongue.
The chagrined victim had actually cried in the elevator going down to the street level and vowed to find a way to be allowed back. The "way" turned up in the catalogue of a San Francisco manufacturer of delicious devices for demonic devotees of deviate discipline. He hurriedly sent away for it. The mouth gag arrived and he instantly called Rod. At their next meeting he presented the gift, wrapped in a fifty-dollar bill, to his exquisite punisher.
"Please accept this, Rod, and use it at your pleasure. I hope my past disobedience will inspire you to new and excessive ways of punishing me. May I be the first to use it?" Rod had flogged him for presuming to outguess him. Then he'd made him hold the whip in his teeth while he went to a drawer and pulled out an identical device. Rod had been in communication with San Francisco, too, and already had a similar device. Ah, memories...
Rod walked to the head of the table and held the chain in each hand, the leather-covered wooden ball hanging between them, and religiously presented it to his startled victim.
"Open your mouth."
The young man did. Rod maneuvered the ball into his mouth and closed the snap tightly behind his head.
Then he moved to the foot of the table and unsnapped his codpiece. He could see the ass before him twitching.
He stroked his own cock a few times to insure its hardness and again balanced himself comfortably. The ass was at the right height.
Rod had a buckskin strip around his heck with an aluminum inhaler attached to it. He unscrewed it and brought the metal inhaler to his nose. One nostril then the other drew a deep breath from it. He slowly rescrewed the top. His cock was straining outward; his sensational cock; his well-veined cock; his massive cock; his over-sized cock; his expensive cock. His whole muscled, intelligent, selfish, sensual, selective, singular cock reared like a stallion. He wetted its already greased tip. Wham! He placed the head of it at the victim's anus and ploughed in with all his might. The wooden ball in his victim's mouth prevented him from crying out. Only a muted, guttural sound escaped from the prone figure.
Rod sank his sensational cock into his victim. He pushed as hard as he could. He knew he was pinching something inside him and took pride in doing it even harder. That would remind the guy that he was being subjected to a cock, a mammoth cock, a world-famous cock, a cock worthy of the most wealthy hedonist in the world.
Someday Rod would stand spread-legged over the wealthiest person in the world and force that person to do his bidding. It might take his lifetime but he'd do it. Damn it he'd do it.
He thrust deeply.
"Uglinnnnghhh!"
It was all the sound he could make.
"I'll make money!" Rod told himself firmly as he ground his teeth together and forced his hips forward.
The hairs on his abdomen hurt his skin, but he kept pressing his cock into the abused asshole splayed before him.
Rod rammed and rammed with all his might.
"Errrrahhhh!"
It came from the filled mouth.
Rod stroked all the way out and rushed back in.
"Eiiiiiiwwwkkk!"
He did it again. And again.
"Ununmmhhhhhgggghhhh!"
Rod was proud of the pressure he exerted. This was power!
The candle was bouncing with each stroke and the softened wax splashed on the bare flesh causing the strapped man to wince and twist and burn and squirm. The mouthpiece prevented him from calling out too loudly but his frantic agony could not be repressed.
Rod rammed home time after painful time. His cock's head was swollen. He sent the over-sized bulb deep within his prone victim. It gave him immense pleasure to do things to the bound youth which had never been done to him before.
Rod demanded that he be the one and only to all the people who brought their scarred and wounded bodies to the loft for sexual fulfillment. Only Rod could dominate them. Anyone who arrived with a mark, a burn or a scar or a disfigurement such as a shaved crotch or swollen tit, which had not been caused by his expert treatment, was dismissed without so much as a glimpse of Rod's face.
Rod loved to dominate. It was his life.
"Ughhh!"
The victim was responding to a twist of the hips from Rod.
CHAPTER THREE
Rod wondered if he ought to put some joy jell on his cock. No, the kid might enjoy it. He would prefer doing only things which appealed to the kid's masochistic sense.
Rod mounted him quickly, his weight resting against the willing victim's ass. Rod's cock was so hard by this time that he didn't have to guide it. He just let it slide into the well-greased hole. It went in straight. His tantalized victim pushed his grateful ass up in the air. Rod liked to see his guests be cooperative. The asshole grabbed Rod's cock's head. The head slipped beyond the tight sphincter without the slightest resistance. The cock separated the tender ass flesh like the prow of a ship skimming the sea.
"Ooohhhhuuuuggghhhh!"
Rod knew he was enjoying it. When his cock was all the way in, he put Ins weight on his arms and thrust his hips forward as far as they would go. He was extended as far as he was capable of extending himself. The burning candle was too hot and he went backward.
Rod fucked fast. The victim rotated his hips, moving in a circle. Rod's weakness got the better of him. He was a fool for rotating hips. He loved to rock and roll against a pair of moving hips; male, female, it didn't matter. Once he'd done it against a sheep's ass. Also against a goat's, a dog's, a calf's and a Boy Scout's. That last one didn't count, however, because he was a Boy Scout himself at the time. All things considered, he mused, he still was.
; Rod discovered he was making circles with his hips, not of his own choosing but in rhythm with his victim's hip rotation. He released the hips, holding the candle, and unscrewed the inhaler again and brought it to his nostrils.
While he inhaled he held still. His victim kept moving and his movements brought different sections of the flesh of his anal canal into contact with Rod's cock. The victim shuddered. Rod grew more aggressive. He rotated in the opposite direction.
Rod didn't realize it, but he was humming to himself again, the words to that song, "... muss my hair, don't you dare to handle me with care, treat me rough... " Rod found new inspiration to push even deeper into the trim body strapped to the festive board. He was banging against something solid so he tried to angle his cock to get under or over the obstruction. It didn't work. His victim kept trying to communicate pain. Rod pressed harder, "... treat me cruel... " Rod was banging up against a bone, he thought. He tripled the speed of his fucking.
"Ekkkkk! Euuuggghhhhhh!"
"Give your ass! Give! Give!"
Rod anchored his cock deep within him and rocked back and forth on solid feet. He rammed his cock.
"Ummmmhhh!"
The candle threw hot droplets of wax around the burdened backside. Each drop of hot wax caused a new sensation in the victim. Rod was proud of himself for thinking up such a subtle addition to sex. He wondered how many people, outside his patron saint, the Marquis de Sade, had invented new sex thrills. Rod honestly believed he deserved a place in history. In fact, he intended to create a place in history for himself. If only something sensational enough would present itself, he would be worthy of the challenge. He willed it!
"Gimme your ass! Give it!"
Rod stretched his stomach muscles to embed his cock inside his asshole. It almost felt painful to stretch his muscles so, but he drove his blood-flooded cock into the defenseless ass. Smash! Smash! Smash!
"Innggghhh!"
"Ha! Cock-lover! Serve! Serve! SERVE!!!"
Rod's body was banging frantically against the subservient body. His head was reeling from the inhaler.
His legs seemed to move without his willing. His hips threw his hard cock into the hopelessly open ass as hard as he could. His victim squirmed and struggled but the well-designed devices held him in bondage. Red and pink areas began to appear oh his skin. Rod wished he had used the cat-o-nine-tails on this one.
Another nasal inhalation turned Rod into his prime pagan self. He fucked with fury. He thrust his cock deep within the malleable flesh. His hands gripped the burning ass and he pulled it toward his swollen cock as the hot rod sank into his prostrate victim's asshole.
"Ohhhhh, phhhh."
"Pain-lover, get your thrills! I'm in the mood to fuck you to death!" The word caused his victim to hold still. The ultimate sensation. Rod was even frightened by the use of the word. Could he do it? Did he want to? Suddenly he thought of all the times he'd gone to the bank and all the nice clear figures which appeared on the tiny sheets of paper that were his deposit slips. No, death was not productive. This number was wealthy. If he wasn't, he at least saved up his money for such visits as this. No, Rod would refrain from fucking him to death. He was no fool, he wouldn't kill the goose, or the gander, that laid the golden eggs.
Calmly, Rod rocked back down onto his feet. He stroked in the streamlined ass carefully and drove his cock deeply and sensuously, allowing the ass, to grip and absorb. He wouldn't overdo it. He would save some for next time. This kid would be back. He'd been coming for two years now, and he was good for a decade or so. Rod was a businessman, after all.
Slow, steady, thoughtful, cerebral strokes replaced the frantic forceful maddeningly aggressive thrusts of a few minutes before.
The steadiness of the rhythm of Rod's powerful fucking caused a different sensation in the abused flesh of his victim's ass. He was continuing to tighten against the stroking cock as opposed to trying to avoid the rubbings. He eagerly clutched the hot cock how. Rod could tell the difference and welcomed it. It felt good on his much-experienced cock. This kid was learning.
Rod fucked harder. The victim clutched harder. The candle was almost burned down. Hot splashed wax was all over the victim's back and buns. Some of it had landed in Rod's pubic hairs. He'd have one of the girls chew it out later. The one with the charge account at Bonwit's. He needed new shoes.
Rod could feel his own balls churning. That meant he would shoot any minute. Try as he would, after all these busy years, he wasn't able to control his cum once it got started. He knew many gigolos who could stop cumming at win. He felt himself a failure because once the juices began to flow, he was their victim. He could not stop the forces of nature. This mother-fucking son of a bitch was causing his cock to swell and the juices manufactured in his balls to begin racing through his body.
When he realized he was cumming, he smacked his victim on the ass with his flat hand. Whack! Whack!
Whack!
His palm made marks on his brutalized ass. The candle, firmly held all this time in its own wax, toppled over and extinguished itself on the table. A mountain of hot wax lay atop the victim's ass. Whack! Rod slapped his buns again.
"AhhWUghhh!"
Rod was cumming. He shot repeated spurts into the heated ass. Big gobs of-it swam freely inside the reddened inner flesh. The ass tightened. Rod's overworked cock spat gob after gob of hot cum.
"Ummmmm."
The victim went limp just as Rod pulled his fatigued cock out of his warm flesh.
The rest was routine. Rod dizzily turned from the table.
"Priscilla!"
She waddled in obediently. "Clean this place up!"
The victim dragged himself off the table and Rod disappeared through a black curtain without a word. He never said goodbye or thanked him for coming or anything which could be considered amenable. It was part of his mystique. His followers saw him only in his role as master. Once he'd gotten a cold. He'd checked into a hotel and hid out till it went away. He knew it would whittle away at his image if his followers saw that he was subject to the laws of nature like other mortals. Part of his power over them was the aura he created of being superhuman.
Now he was resting. That was ritualistic, too. He had a very comfortable double bed. He slept alone in style. Priscilla, or whoever was around, would wait on him, prepare his, bath, pick up his clothing and put it away, have a drink waiting for him on the file cabinet he used for a night stand and put by his bed the things he'd mentioned he wanted to read. Just before retiring was the time he put aside to do his homework.
After the workout he'd given the generous young man, he wanted to recoup. The room was darkened and Priscilla warned those in the dormitory Rod was napping. All was quiet.
About five Rod rose, checked his appointment book and stretched his generously muscled arms. He bent at the waist, exercising his well built body. He looked at himself in the mirror. The mirror was as big as the bed and had once adorned the walls, of a famous ballerina's apartment.
Rod liked to look at himself in mirrors. He studied his face and form carefully and often. Each hint of a blemish was hastily treated. His hair was always well kept and frequently cut. Rod knew the value of a stunning impression on those who flocked around him.
A bright pink and white pimple had formed on his smooth shoulder. Moving under a light bright enough to perform brain surgery, he delicately squeezed it till it burst through its surface and lost its power in an eruption of waste matter. A fresh tissue was its coffin.
With greater care he examined his body. No other imperfections were found. On firm handsome feet, he padded to the bath and showered. He carefully rubbed his body with oil. He brushed his large solid teeth with care. He employed a dentist's tiny mirror to inspect the cleaning. He was satisfied. It took him ten minutes to get his hair in place.
Still naked, he softly padded to the closet and flung wide its double doors. He had an appointment in just fifteen minutes.
Before him was a mammoth assortment of leather harnesses, form-fitting vests and jackets and-Variations on the basic tee shirt, all in black leather.
Shiny metal studs glistened on some of them, large metal rings and chains, even a motorcycle chain, hung from hooks in the wall and were piled on shelves.
He carefully pondered his selection. He considered the personality of his appointment, he consulted a diary of his previous appointments with the same individual. A note was carefully made of what he'd worn and the reaction. He also listed what he had done with the person so that, like Cleopatra, he could provide "infinite variety."
He selected a "Y" shaped body harness, a four-inch-wide cyclist's belt and mid-calf boots. He put a leather-covered ring over one ball, then the other, then he patiently worked his soft cock through it. The black ring fit snugly against his body. One more inspection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror and Rod was secure in his belief that the visitor would be fascinated. He fitted a black leather codpiece over his now-growing cock and shut the bedroom door behind him. He heard the antique elevator climbing up to his loft.
A very chic woman stepped out of the industrial building's elevator. She knocked on the door in a hand gloved by Gucci. Rod had decided on being alone with her so he had put those in the loft in the dormitory with orders that only soul music could be played on the radio while his East Side visitor was in the loft. Such orders were never disobeyed.
"Come in, Karin."
The brunette opened the heavy door. It was dimly lit inside. She knew her way to the room he was always waiting in. Her heart beat faster just to be in the place he lived in. Rod was delighted with the sight of her. Her clothes reeked of money. Her jewelry was the best quality and taste and her body was as sensational as intelligence and the best of everything could make it, Nature had helped a lot. She was tiny-waisted, full-hipped and had a nice pair of jugs. Best of all, her carriage was perfect which put everything in proper alignment. Her rich long hair was tossed back defiantly as she approached him.
Karin smiled a half smile hoping to intrigue Rod. She liked the challenge of seducing a man. Rod was one of the very few she'd never been able to fully capture. They were perfectly matched. Each was calculating and cruel. Both of them had egos matched seldom in history. They both possessed tremendous intellects and finely honed tastes. She felt she had the advantage because she came from a wealthy family where large amounts of money were as normal as air. He thought he had the advantage because he had a hold over her no one else could match. He knew he could thrill her more than any man she'd ever met and so she came to him with gifts.
Karin gave gifts as easily as John D. Rockefeller had passed out dimes. She had three charge account plates for nothing but gifts, and she had an as-yet-unchallenged method of taking the whole accounts off her income tax as business expenses. She was smart.
Rod sat on his throne-like chair and smiled warmly while she advanced across the room. He waited till she was nearly to him before he rose. Karin smiled to herself; he's a shit, but a magnificent shit.
"It's nice to see you," he oiled.
"It's always good to be here."
"How have you been? What have you been doing?"
As she complied with the smiling invitation to ease into the nitty gritty with idle small talk, he poured cocktails out of a superb shaker into properly chilled glasses. He indicated a Victorian-looking overstuffed couch at the side of the room. He carried her drink and she sat on the beautiful furniture in her Chanel suit. As he handed her the drink he fixed his eyes on the emerald ring covering a great portion of her finger.
Karin gave a few details of her activities since she had last visited and asked a question.
"Would you be interested in coming to a rather private party next weekend? I'm entertaining a dear friend from Rome. He has an impressive friend who I think you would enjoy meeting. It won't start till midnight and I'd be glad to send the car so you won't have to change. It's Saturday."
"Thank you for asking me," he smiled. "I will have to wait till tomorrow to let you know because I have a tentative engagement myself Saturday evening. It won't be confirmed till tomorrow. May I have my secretary call you tomorrow?"
"I'll be out but my secretary will take the message. I hope you can join us, I think you'll like meeting these people. They go to Caracas, but they want to see Price at the Met, so they're coming to New York this time as well. Do try and join us."
"We'll see."
They smiled like Cheshire cats at each other. Karin sipped her cocktail. Rod said nothing, just kept smiling at her the way the snake must have smiled at Eve in the garden of Eden.
Without taking her eyes off his big smiling masculine face she reached in her purse, which matched her suit, and drew from it a small glass vial. It had a black plastic cap and was filled with white powder.
"I thought perhaps you might enjoy this."
Rod took it without looking at it. His eyes were still on her face as he hefted it ha his hand. It looked tiny on his broad palm.
"It's lighter than last time."
"Yes," she was slightly embarrassed but determined not to lose her cool. "I wanted to present a young man with some as well."
Her two-edged sentence did not miss its mark. Karin had calculated the amount she'd put in the vial. She wanted it to be a generous amount but just enough less than last time so he would sense the difference. She knew full well he could compare them. The inspired mention of a fictitious "young man" planted the impression in Rod that she was getting laid elsewhere, too, and that the stud was younger than Rod.
Rod didn't lose his cool either. "You must bring him with you some time so he can witness how fully and thoroughly you are capable of enjoying yourself."
"I'll speak to him about it."
"Another cocktail?"
Thank you, no."
"Shall we sample your thoughtful gift?"
Rod had eased into it nicely she thought. He really did turn her on. His evil smile made the juices flow in her abdomen. He was so sexy!
Rod knew he was in charge again. He'd smoothly turned her dig into a challenge to her. He suspected there was no "young man." Now she'd at least have to consider digging one up with which to trump him. He'd also turned the conversation to the sex she'd come for.
He slowly got to his feet in one graceful movement. He stood spread-legged a few inches in front of her.
He towered over her. Slowly, with the perpetual smile clinging to his lips, he unscrewed the vial and dipped a tiny brass spoon into it. She bent her lovely head and held her nostril over the white powder on the spoon. She sniffed. When he'd refilled the spoon, she sniffed that into her other nostril.
Rod patiently raised the spoon to his own nostrils and followed suit. He gave her his hand and led her across the room to the festive board.
"You've made some improvements."
"Yes, I've added more straps. I like to have as many options as I can. I learned that from Watergate testimony."
"I see you've padded the table. What's under the leather?"
"Cotton padding. I, er, acquired it from one of the establishments downstairs. It works quite well. I had to pad it because I had a carpenter in to make some improvements on the table itself. I'll demonstrate them later." His total smile showed perfect teeth. As casually as if he were picking up a martini glass, he opened one of his cupboard doors and brought out a big black whip. Instantly, the polite smile was gone and he cracked the whip in the air over her head.
"Now pull off those threads, bitch, and make yourself useful. Move!" Karin's twat tingled. Quickly she was piling jewelry and shoes, skirt and jacket and blouse on the Victorian sofa at the other side of the room.
Rod sat majestically on the edge of his padded table and dangled the thick whip like a fishing pole between his knees.
Karin pulled her panties down her shapely legs and let the hairs of her crotch breathe. Her bra was holding up generous ivory tits. A ringlet of dark hair curled down to rest on one's creamy surface. Her big dark aureoles accented her milk white flesh. Rod was always impressed with her physical beauty. Rhonda had bigger tits, and beautiful blond hair, but Karin had class and carried herself with an air which stirred something in his groin. Jesus, she was fabulous.
Knowing full well how good looking she was, Karin walked like a beauty queen across the room and stood with one foot in front of the other before him.
"I'm glad you're not wearing your mask. I like to see your eyes in relation to the rest of your face."
"Ummm hmmm."
She smiled again. He cracked the whip over her head.
"Harden your tits."
Without losing her smile, Karin brought her lacquered fingers up to the nipples on her pleasant tits and began working them between thumb and index finger. Rod watched calmly.
After a minute or two he nodded and she dropped her hands. Her tits appeared to have swollen and stuck out more prominently than before. Her aureoles were much larger and now looked like dark circus tents.
"Lie down on your back."
She did so.
"Knees up, feet flat on the floor." She complied.
"Put your palms on the floor beside your head, your thumbs against your ears." Karin was beginning to feel she was in yoga class but she did what he asked.
"Now raise through the hips, up, up, up, up, as high as you can go." She arched her buttocks and back, vertebra by vertebra.
"That's it, make a bridge."
Karin was supported on her flat feet and flat palms, her body arcing between and her head hanging down, her hair touching the floor. Rod was sitting on the edge of the table with the whip in his hand pointing it straight at her cunt. He raised the whip a few inches and poked at her pussy with it.
At the touch she quivered. "Ohhhh!"
He twirled the whip in a circle over her body like a whirling helicopter blade. It zinged in the silent room.
Only the muted sound of soul music creeping from the dormitory was audible besides the singing whip.
"Down."
She lowered herself. Rod allowed her a minute to rest flat on the floor.
"What did you come here for?" he asked when he thought her patience was ending and her desire for sex was mounting.
"To have you fuck me."
She didn't mind admitting it; she knew he was thrilled to have her, and she longed for his rough take-charge abusive love making.
Almost every man she knew was less masculine than Rod. She'd never regretted anything he did to her.
Sometimes she thought Rod Anger was not just one more self-indulgence she allowed herself; sometimes she thought he was the king of sex. She wanted him to be the king of sex, she felt she deserved nothing less. She fed his ego because she wanted him to be the biggest and the best, her own head demanded it.
Rod was drunk with his image of himself and truly believed he was more than the king of sex; he wanted to be the God of sex.
He raised himself from the table and walked to her, straddled her prone nude body and stared down at the dark-eyed beauty. Without a word, he lowered himself to his knees and made her kiss his codpiece.
Karin did it quickly and thoroughly. She loved this part of his ritual, whenever he included it in his repertoire.
"Umm. Oh, Rod."
She pressed her lips against the black leather. She could feel the blood flowing into his cock. It was swelling so it could hardly be confined behind the heavy leather codpiece. As she gummed its girth, it swelled more. Snap! It had gotten so big it burst the snaps holding it to the thin leather strap around his waist. He allowed her to unsnap the remainder of the snaps and his codpiece flopped down and hung below his balls as his cock straightened itself out in front of her appreciative eyes.
Karin glanced up at his eyes smiling happily. It was beautiful. As always.
"Oh, Rod."
"Worship it."
"Oh, yes, yes."
Eagerly she enclosed its broad dimpled head in her mouth. With verve she sucked on-his big mushroom.
He pulled it from between her full lips. She thrust her mouth back onto it aggressively. The exciting combat which drew them to each other had begun.
"Suck, bitch."
Straddling her bouncing body, he cracked the whip in the air over them both. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head down hard on his straight cock. She propped herself up on her elbows and tried to take all of it in her mouth. The angle wasn't right and she could only manage half of its prodigious length. If only it wasn't so fat. But that was part of the thrill, its fatness.
"Gobble me up, pig woman!"
Rod was walking backward on his knees. She lost hold of his wet tool. It flopped side to side as he moved down her legs. Quickly Karin got on her knees and began trailing his retreating cock.
"Crawl to it, that's right. C'mon, you hungry whore, on your hands and knees crawl to that cock. Eat!" He stopped. She was able to catch up with his cock and greedily sucked it into her mouth. Her head was straining and her neck was stretched. It was a matter of pride to her to get the whole thing into her mouth.
She'd done it before. But, damn, today it seemed bigger than usual.
Their heads were reeling from the delicious effects of the white powder they had drawn into their nostrils which were flaring like those of overworked horses.
The red patches which appeared on their chests seemed to give a rosy glow to their whole bodies. As their breath came in labored whines, they continued to, push their bodies against one another; her mouth swallowing the full length of his swollen prick.
Rod got one knee up in the air. He placed that foot flat on the floor. With his hands in her hair, he guided his other knee up and got that foot on the floor as well flat. He was now rocking his hips fore and aft with his gigantic straight cock going directly into her throat. Her eyes were bulging. She dared not breathe. He would rock back and forth as if his weight was suspended from his knees. His hips moved to her face and his pubic hairs touched her skin. He pulled back and the veiny length of his cock glistened. If she crossed her eyes she could see the wetness on it.
"It looks like a train going into the tunnel of your mouth." His words caused her cunt to convulse. There was nobody like him.
In a surge of passion, Karin closed her hands around his ankles as if to anchor herself there, her neck bending up to take all of his swinging cock swinging like a pendulum into and out of her mouth.
"Beautiful bitch. You're one (he threw his hips forward) hungry (he did it again) insatiable (again) horny, cocksucking piece of ass. I ought to take you down to Marty's hotel on the Bowery and rent you out at fifty cents a mount."
With her mouth full of cock Karin groaned in ecstasy at his wicked suggestion. He had her hot enough to thrill at the mention of being so abused. She sucked even more vigorously on his hard prick.
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah!
His pelvic bone was hurting her upper lip. He sensed it; this was one of his biggest assets, his sensitivity to his own limitations. He stopped fucking hard against her mouth. She was grateful. Damn, Rod could sense her every nuance of feeling. He was something more than human. She was so lucky to have found him.
And she remembered exactly how that had come to be.
CHAPTER FOUR
After her divorce, at the age of twenty-eight, Karin had found herself a rich, educated, tasteful, lonely woman. True, the marriage had never been classified as "happy" by any of the people she had known before it took place or by any of those New Yorkers she'd met as a married woman. Randolph had been a shit He still was, as a matter of fact, but another woman was finding that out now.
She'd taken courses at the New School. She'd volunteered in a hospital but that had definitely not been to her taste. It was more like drudgery. She preferred the world of international society and sophistication to the humdrum tasks of Florence Nightingale.
She-tried charity work. It was time-consuming and shallow. Sure, the causes were worth helping, but the act of helping meant endless lunches, dinner parties, meetings and balls, all in the name of sweet charity.
What they were, in reality, were contests. Which of the organizers could claim the highest revenue from, say, a gala at Tavern on the Green. She'd scored a coup with a Monte Carlo Night aboard a bankrupt luxury liner which was about to end up in the hands of receivers because the Greek owner had over-extended himself one night at the real Monte Carlo.
The ship had sailed at two in the afternoon down the Hudson with seven hundred wealthy locals who switched to evening dress, ate an overpriced meal, danced to an over-paid orchestra gleaned from the musicians union hall at the last minute when a name bandleader found the sheriff after him because of back alimony and had had to fly to Canada at dawn.
Karin had been a nervous wreck. The complimentary booze she'd inveigled from a wholesaler helped get everyone in the mood and she found the guests got a kick out of the inexperienced Puerto Rican street kids she'd gotten in the emergency to wait tables. Thank goodness there was a recession, or whatever euphemism it was known by, or else this quick quasi-experienced labor source would not be available.
She had heard rumors that several of the young waiters had made some handy pocket money by allowing the tuxedoed escorts, who were often hairdressers, stray men about town, and climbers, to suck their cocks in unused cabins. It was the talk of the town, but she preferred not to hear it.
However, for months afterward, many of the men at that gambling night referred to her as the best charity evening organizer in the country. In point of fact that evening's cruise had launched her into international society, an elevation she hadn't even contemplated. Because she had not expected it and because she was practical as hell, she later became quite successful in international society.
Shortly before she met Rod, a Prime Minister had sulked for a week because he had not been invited to one of her dinners. She would have invited him except that that particular dinner had been arranged so her guests could meet one of her staff. The new staff member she'd discovered driving a taxicab.
Sitting in his cab she had been turned on by the back of his neck. He was a tall, black, smooth-skinned, muscular bachelor. He was about twenty-five and had big bright eyes. His name was John and she chatted as the taxi took her uptown from a meeting with her broker in Wall Street By Twenty Third Street she had the hots for him and by Forty Second Street she had found out he was not a celibate.
At Fifty Ninth she made an excuse to make a stop. This ploy gave her the time necessary to think up an errand or two so she could extend her conversation with Lance.
After the second stop he'd agreed to have coffee with her. By the second cup of coffee, laced with Irish Mist, John was tapping his sensuous fingers on the table top. A moment later he stood up, rubbed his bulging crotch and said, "Look, sugar, I'll get a ticket down there if I don't get back behind the wheel. I'm quitting at ten. Do you want me to come back here then? If you do I'll expect you to be bathed, scented, made up and in a see-through peignoir with chilled martinis waiting. I'll bring the smoke. I'll leave before seven and I don't expect we'll get any sleep. That's my proposition."
"See you shortly after ten, then."
"You're on."
He arrived at ten twenty-five. He stayed all night. Karin had to call a carpenter to repair the bed's frame.
She saw John sometimes three times a week for months. She talked him into working the dinner party when she found out he sometimes made a little extra by working for a catering outfit.
She point blank asked him if he swung both ways.
"Mama, I swing any way I can, as often as I can."
She carefully arranged the dinner party guest list so every one of them would be someone inclined to make a pass at John. They all did. John and Karin had schemed up an arrangement so all the guests would be led into the bedroom separately, bidden in separate places under the pretense that a lingering guest was still in the bathroom beyond the bedroom and the hidden guest would have to be silent till that guest had gone.
In a comic opera ballet of movement, the guests, men and women, scurried into closets, under the bed, behind screens, on to balconies and in hallways leading to the large bedroom.
John and Karin had stood naked in the room and he called out, "It's okay, you can come out now, baby." All seven guests had emerged from their hiding places to the horror, chagrin, bewilderment, embarrassment, fascination, and eventual delight of each other. The cum was so thick on her sheets, she had to destroy them.
She'd have loved to invite the Prime Minister to that dinner but the world is a small place and she knew his career would be destroyed if word ever got out that he'd attended an orgy. She protected him from himself by not inviting him.
As a result of the evening her underground reputation was even greater than her gossip column one. She had a scheme in the back of her mind to give the hurt Prime Minister an orgy when he retired from politics.
After all, another man of the same ilk had found a happy and full retirement in Jamaica with an estate full of international hustlers, why shouldn't His Excellency do the same? She'd see.
John had called one day saying he'd just met someone Karin would love. Could she join them?
He sounded high on something but she never refused an invitation from John. His own thirteen-inch cock was enough for her to fly home from Borne a day early just not to miss their date.
As she scampered around her apartment, hurrying to get to the address John had given her as fast as she could she forgot to take off her emerald. She never liked to wear her expensive jewelry to a first-time address.
The west Twenties did not make her think of security. Her cunt's burning desire drove all thoughts of its being stolen from her mind and she didn't notice it was on her hand till they were undressing.
The address had turned out to be Rod's loft. John knew she'd get a kick out of the bizarre atmosphere. He also knew she'd get a kick out of Rod; a strapping, broad-shouldered, handsome animal.
John had liked Rod the minute he'd seen him standing on the street waiting for the light to change. He'd circled the block and refused a fare to follow Rod up the street. At the next intersection he'd called out the window to Rod to get in. Without batting an eye, Rod got in the cab.
"You're sensational looking. I got a hard on just looking at you standing there."
"That's cool," said Rod who knew he had that effect on both sexes.
"You've got me in your cab�_"what are you going to do next?"
"When my meat gets hard, I act!" said John.
In his next sentence Rod laid on John what he dug in the sex department.
"Shit, man, I ain't nobody's whipping boy. Wouldn't you be more interested in having my cock up your ass? When I get in gear I'll present the planets to you, baby, the planets!" Rod had taken him up to the loft and pointed out various devices and toys which made John's brown eyes bulge and caused him to whistle low under his breath.
"Well, I'll say this, you're the best-looking fruitcake I ever saw. You seem like you like to make a buck, too. How about you and me forming a little business? For some reason I get propositioned a lot, and they don't even see me standing up. A lot of 'em suggest I treat 'em the way you do. What say I bring 'em over, you service 'em and we split the proceeds?"
New York is a money-making town. What in other communities is seen as an opportunity to do something friendly, is seen in New York as a chance to make money. Rod was a New Yorker. So was John.
The big black cab driver and the big white sadist formed a partnership. It had worked well for a long time.
Rod kept trying to get John to act as his partner in more than bringing in new recruits for Rod's particular brand of sex but John refused.
"No way, man, you sell your funny cigarettes and your little pills on your own. I don't want to know nuthin' 'bout that jive. Here's one dude who's stayin' free and easy!" He had brought Karin over in his cab one night and collected a fifty from her for the contact and a twenty from Rod for the same thing.
In addition to making a lot of money through Karin's contacts, he genuinely enjoyed fucking her. She was a greedy cunt in bed and it gave him great satisfaction to make her whimper after several hours of enthusiastic fucking.
Her mind came back to the cock in her mouth. Rod was once again outdoing himself. Their relationship had ripened in the year she'd been coming to him for his cock. They understood each other perfectly. They could both be free with each other. They took pride in surprising each other with new feats of sex.
Neither of them knew anybody more challenging. John had a bigger cock, but he was basically a gentleman, which prevented him from using his prodigious hunk of meat to humiliate her. She hungered for Rod's sadistic treatment.
Her throat hurt from his fucking her mouth. He quickly pulled his dripping cock out into the light and air.
"Don't take it away!"
"Karin, you horny sow, I have to pull my pecker out of your mouth if you want it stuffed into your cunt.
Look at your pussy, look at it�_"it's dripping little droplets of love juice in anticipation! You hungry bitch!
What's the matter, haven't you had your supply today? Have they blocked off all roads to Harlem? Try El Barrio, there has got to be at least one hung little dropout looking for trouble and snatch to get into. You could have your chauffeur drive up and down the streets with the window open. You can toss out dollar bills until you spot the kid you want and then you can entice him into the back seat with a twenty. Who knows, you might even want to learn Spanglish to facilitate matters."
"You animal! What you must think of people."
"I don't have to think of people. All I have to do is drag my big cock across the face of some sour cunt like you and make you whine for it in your pussy. You like that big piece of meat laying across your face, don't you? Open your eyes! Watch it swing in front of you. That's it, follow the pendulum. Lick it! Ahhhh!" Try as she would, Karin could do nothing except kiss and lick his big cock lovingly. She clasped him around the ass and hung on to the metal straps of his harness, pushing her mouth as far down his swollen cock as she could.
"Umph, umph."
She struggled to swallow more of his cock. Her full breasts pressed against his legs. He bent at the knees and took a handful of her hair to force her head even farther down his straining cock.
"Gobble it, bitch. Let it ream you out."
She was sitting on her buttocks and calves when he began dragging her torso forward. She had to rise to her hands and knees. He continued backing and she crawled after him, his hand still clutching her hair. His straight cock was held steady in her filled throat. Her boobs swung to the sides in a rhythm as she crawled after the grinning sadist.
Karin's plump ass was up in the air and looked invitingly like two pale moons separated by a ravine. His powerful hairy hand slapped her soundly on the ass.
Whack!
"You look like my trained mare. That's what you are, my trained mare. Do your tricks. C'mon, prance for daddy. Prance. Prance. Left knee and left hand up, right knee and right hand up, that's it. Left knee and hand, right knee and hand. Left. Right."
Karin tottered from side to side, her mouth still impaled on his bolt-like cock. Every other time she raised her left side, he smacked his palm firmly on her buttocks. The impact was heard in a loud sharp thwack! Her eyes were tearing., She could feel the heat of his body. Her tits hurt they were so swollen.
"Mount the table, mare, I want to ride."
At last! He was going to fuck her. She happily crawled up on the table and turned over on her back. Her body bounced as she got on the table and her bent knees spread wide apart to facilitate his coming between her legs and sticking his sensational cock into her warm pussy.
On his way over to the table he picked up his whip, put on metal-studded gloves and a Waldo Pepper type black leather cap. He strapped a leather vest over the body harness.
He didn't come directly between her legs as Karin had hoped. He walked deliberately around the table coiling the whip in his hands. His heavy boots echoed as he slowly circled her prone body expectantly waiting on the leather-covered wood.
Almost casually, he reached down for a dangling shackle at her left foot. Calmly, he brought the three-inch wide leather ankle binder around her ankle and buckled it. The heavy aromatic leather was attached to a steel chain which clanked as it brushed against itself. Links moved against one another. They were bolted by a six-inch eye bolt into the leg of the table. No amount of twisting or turning or yanking would loosen it in the least.
Karin waited patiently, expecting him to next secure her right ankle. But he did not. He strutted to the head of the table and brought the collar up to her ivory neck.
"What are you doing?"
He'd never collared her before.
"Is this something new?"
Rod didn't answer, just firmly buckled the collar with both sturdy buckles. Similar to the ankle restraints, the collar was attached to the bottom of the oak table by a long chain which gave Rod the freedom of repositioning his victim without having to release the person.
"What the fuck are you doing, Rod? I'm not sure I want this." Rod laughed out loud.
"You're not sure you want this??? Who the fuck asked you? You smelly cunt, I don't give a shit what you want. I feel like doing this�_"" In one leap he sprang onto the table landing on both feet and one hand. He had straddled her shoulders with his booted feet, and his ass hung inches above her face. Her one restrained hand could not come between his ass and her face but her free one did. She pressed her hand against his ass as if it could hold back his weight.
She could clearly see the hairs growing from his smooth tight ass. The crack of his ass was just above her eyes. She could plainly see discoloration of his rectum. Oh, God, she thought.
"Move your hand!"
She didn't.
With a twist of his hips and a quick movement of his arm he pinioned her free hand to the table and had the crack of his ass on her nose. He rubbed his hips hard against her face.
"Umph grrhhhhuummph."
"Like that? Hot whore, you like that? Smell it, baby. Taste it! Rub your face in it. Get-to-know-your-daddy."
As he said each word he bounced on her face.
Karin was getting dizzy with conflicting emotions. He was disgusting. He was exciting. He was an animal.
She wanted him to be even more animal. He was selfish. The challenge was thrilling.
"Umummph umph. Um, urn, um."
"That's all you get."
He bounded down from the table backward, landing on both feet. As he walked around the table again, he placed one gloved hand on her swollen breast and squeezed it hard. Karin was panting from trying not to breath in his ass and the excitement his mistreatment had sent churning through her. Her pussy twitched with the anticipation of his hot cock in there. Already she could feel the intense hardness of her clitoris.
Rod uncoiled the whip with a sharp snap! When he put one magnificent and heavily muscled leg against her leg, she knew he was standing between her legs. She opened her eyes.
Rod stood with both feet wide apart between her legs. His massive, heaving chest covered with dark curly hairs forced his leather vest apart. His harness underneath came down in one piece of leather to his abdomen, separated into two thinner straps which parted around his cock ring and came together somewhere between his buns. She'd felt that when he was sitting on her face. Now he had picked up some bands of studded black leather and was putting them around his biceps.
He didn't have to attract attention to his bulging muscles, she'd never been able not to drool at the sight of them.
His Waldo Pepper cap was replaced by his lightweight eye mask. His fine nose flared sensuously. As he opened his mouth she saw all his perfect teeth and the lust in her cunt formed droplets of sweet oozing juice.
He placed one foot on the table top and in one smooth movement he brought himself up on the table and stood once more between her legs. She savored the sight of this masterful man with the whip stretched between his big fists. He slowly stepped over her hips. His swollen cock was red where she had run her lips over it and over it. Its head was swollen and enlarged. The hole in its end seemed, even to him, to be three times its normal size.
"Oh, damn, Rod."
"What are you going to bring next time?"
His voice had menace in it.
"A full vial."
"And?"
"And?"
"What else?" he thundered. "My credit card." He cracked the whip ominously. "Whatever you ask," she cried out in fright. He had a look on his face she'd never seen before. "Cash. Lots of cash."
"But Rod, I don't like to carry cash. Just tell me how much and I'll bring exactly that."
"Do you want those lovely tits welted with the marks of this bull whip? I can fix you so you won't be seen in a bathing suit for this whole summer. I said cash! You know how much your pussy's worth, bring that. And don't underestimate. This is a busy cock and it has to go to the highest bidder. Supply and demand, dig?"
"Haven't I been generous to you in the past?"
"I keep letting you come back, don't I? Just remember, costs are rising." Karin suspected that each time he ran out of delicious injustices to inflict upon her, he raised his honorarium as a humiliation. God, she'd like to get even with him!
"Ouch!"
"Answer me. Are you going to bring a full vial?"
"Yes!"
"And something substantial?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"Hot as hell, ain't yah?"
"Yes."
"And you want a stud dick in your pussy, don't yah?"
"Yes."
"Been lonely, hasn't it?"
"Yes."
"Hasn't even gotten any cab drivers lately, has it?"
Karin wondered how he knew that. "No."
"Poor lonely pussy. Poor empty pussy."
He stretched his broad back and bent at the waist to poke the butt end of his braided whip into her soft pussy folds.
"Got to wake up things in there. Find your little button and�_"Ring the Bell!"
"OHHH!!!!"
"My East Side slut likes that, huh?"
"Oh, Rod."
He took his hand off the whip. Her gripping pussy held it in place.
"You had better take belly dancing lessons so you can not only hold a whip in your cunt but snap it around as well."
"Oh!"
His words filled her with fire. She humped her pussy and tried to make the whip crack. She didn't succeed but the long whip moved like a lazy serpent when she flexed her pussy muscles.
Rod took up his scepter of power and zinged it through the air. He crouched down and poked one finger in her pussy, then two. He had four fingers inside her wet lips before he withdrew them and aimed his ramrod-hard cock into her cunt.
The inhaler was hanging from a hook on one of the table legs. He reached for it and watched her eyes follow his hand as he unscrewed the aluminum device. His nostrils drank in its nectar. She wet her lips in anticipation. For an instance she thought he'd refuse it to her just to be mean, but he wanted her hot and horny so he pressed the cylinder to her nostrils. She put her soft hands on his hairy ones as he held it to her nose. In a moment her head would swim and her pussy would be filled. Rod was a trip to the moon!
"Oh, Rod, I can feel your cock riding into me. Oh, give it to me. Pump me!" She hissed her request between tightly clenched teeth as her body burned with passion.
Rod grinned as he rammed her even more sadistically, exulting at the way his cock banged the back end of her cunt. He drove her into the table. Her pussy burned with his enlarged and hard cock filling it. Her soft pink flesh was stretched. He tried to sink his whole cock in her so that his cockring was pressing into her.
"I want to see the imprint of my cock ring against your hot flesh like it is my brand on you."
"Anything you want, do it."
"I want to see the head of it coming out your throat!"
"Oh, Rod!"
Her legs were vibrating from the pressure of his fucking. Her forehead was damp and her body heat was rising. He put the inhaler back against her nostril. Karin drew in her breath noisily with one finger pressed against her vacant nostril.
"Oh, take me. Fuck me. Pump me good. Oh! You horse fucker! Savage! Oh!" Each name she called him made him proud. He tried to ride her harder. He pumped his cock into her faster.
Rod tried to be even more of a stallion than he was. His veins were standing out on his neck and on his cock.
He was red in the face. She strained against her neck collar and rattled her chains as he fucked her.
"You rich bitch crawling up to this loft to get yourself stuffed with big mean dick... "
"Ummrnhhh."
"You dirty slut, take that! Whore... you ought to work the docks, crews get shore leave every hour, you'd never have to get off your back!"
"Oh, Rod, you demon."
His swollen cock pumped her pussy juices out of her cunt with each masterful stroke. The head of his cock had swollen so much it was like a battering ram inside her inflamed pussy. He was bending and rebending her clit which had seemed to grow fantastically. Each time he advanced within her she could feel it bend.
"Fuck me. Do it dirty. Mistreat me. I don't give a shit what you do to me, just do it, do it. Oh, Rod!!!"
"Whore!... Pig!... C'mon hot cunt, eat it up."
Her hips were swiveling madly and her breasts rolled over her chest.
For no reason at all he clasped one leather hand over her mouth and pressed her head into the table. Her free hand reached up to claw at his wrist. He bent and sucked her nipple into his mouth and pulled her tit up in the air. She pounded his upper arm with clenched fists and bounced her pussy up onto his cock even harder.
Her chains rattled noisily.
Rod released her mouth. He dropped her tit and put both his hands under her hips to draw her overworked pussy up into the air. When her hips were free of the table, he got a firmer grip on her soft flesh and bent his torso backward, changing the angle of his fucking.
"Oh, my God, oh, you're killing me with cock."
"That's just the way you want to go, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes. Oh, fuck me forever."
He was leaning far back and bouncing her on his hips. She had enough play in her chains to sit on his thighs and get her feet flat onto the table top. She braced herself with her free hand in back of his neck and rode his cock. She took long rises and let her own weight bring her body down the full length of his swollen organ. Up she'd go, down she'd plummet.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah."
He watched her hardened nipples bounce before his masked eyes. His big muscles were straining and the light which glowed on their sweaty skins gave him the look of a golden God in all his majesty.
"Rod, you're fucking me to death!"
She stopped going up and down, held tightly to his neck and started working her hips around in a generous circle. He kept his rampant cock all the way in her as she churned on him. Her clit slithered around his giant-sized cock.
He put the base of his palm against her chin and pushed her head backward, straining her neck. Another blast of the inhaler filled her nostrils, then his. He pushed her head even further back and began savagely fucking up into her stretched cunt. He banged with noisy grunts.
"Umph!"
She couldn't talk back in her stretched position but her clutching fingers told his arms how hot she was.
Her body was quivering involuntarily. With all his force he bounced her up into the air and rammed his over-sized cock into her dripping cunt. The fluids he forced out were wetting his bouncing balls. The drops were accumulating on the leather surface of the table.
"I'm going to flood you now. Your pussy's going to drink in my cum. Here's what it's all about, bitch, here's... what... you... crawled... up... here... for!! Ughhhhhhh!!!"
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!!"
"Keep it in you!"
Rod's gigantic cock had reshaped her pudenda. His cock flexed with each spurt of his hot acrid cum. Try as she did to keep her pussy tightly closed against his slithering cock, she could not prevent the mingled love juice and cum from oozing out, running down his scrotum and puddling up on the table.
Rod allowed her to fall back on the surface on her back. Slowly he disentangled himself from her perspiring body. Her hairs were stuck to her face by sweat. He could feel his own aromatic sweat trickling down his underarms. It was a moment to be tender; they both lay there panting.
Rod knew his public. Tenderness would queer the whole-thing.
"Next time you come in here with a dripping cunt I'll let you play musical chairs on a series of dildoes."
"I don't want even one dildo. I just want your sensational cock to fuck me everlastingly."
"You'll do what I say or you won't even get to smell my cock. How many times did I make you cum?"
"Four." She lied by one because she knew what kind of an ego she was dealing with.
Rod would jot that information in his diary. Someday, he figured, in the very, very distant future, he'd be over the hill and need some source of income other than the gifts which would no doubt diminish. He calculated he could barter, shall we say, his record for additional funds from those who were still around. His alternate plan was to publish his memoirs. No work of fiction could match his achievement over the years, he was sure of that. He dragged his exhausted body across the room and lit himself a cigarette.
Only after he'd calmed himself with a few drags did he saunter to the table and nonchalantly unbuckle her collar and the restraints on her ankle and wrist.
The ritual was always the same. If he didn't speak it meant she had to dress and leave immediately. If he felt like a little chatter, he'd start the conversation.
"How's John?"
"I haven't seen or heard from him in over a week."
"Tell him to call me. I have an idea."
Karin waited for him to elaborate. He did not. She anticipated at least a few words. None came. She sighed in disappointment and walked to the Victorian couch to begin putting her clothing on. He walked up behind her. She was just putting the giant emerald back on her delicate finger. It shimmered in the faint light of the candles. The beauty of a lustrous gem cannot be matched by anything on earth. Rod's beautiful eyes burned like a fire in the pure light reflected from the exquisite facets of the stone.
"Some day you're going to give me that," he said with total confidence that he was predicting the future.
Not on your tin type, buddy boy, she thought to herself. Your ego's almost as big as your cock, but this little beauty is mine and mine it's going to stay. "I know you, you hungry bitch in heat, and I'm going to fuck that jewel off your finger onto mine. Now get out, I've got important people coming."
Karin almost told herself he was right. Just the way he talked and treated her like dirt turned her on. He was the hottest and the best and he knew her inside out.
The weather in Manhattan was pleasant enough that day, but she felt chilled as she stepped onto the dirty sidewalk. Her body was still heated from her exercise. Her pussy felt full of cum. She found walking to the corner difficult. The garment district workers, usually burly men with a hip-shaped bottle of gin or rum sticking out of their pockets as they pushed the unending network of garment racks through the crowded streets, whistled, called put, brushed against her delectable figure and propositioned her in a myriad of tongues.
She flagged a cab at the comer. She never used the car for trips of this nature. People, even trusted employees, talk. The fewer who knew about her private, private life, the better. She wasn't taking any chances of becoming the talk of the town unless she chose the subject.
As the cab honked its way through the canyons of Manhattan she smiled to herself; it would be delicious to let someone in on her secret. Who could she bring to Rod Anger's table of sexual pleasure? She'd have to get out her address book when she got home. Before that, however, she was going to take one long warm soaking bath.
CHAPTER FIVE
That slimmer Karin went to Rome where she stimulated interest in Rod and his exotic tastes in her two friends. After taking in the museums and the young men, she skimmed across the Mediterranean to their villa in Tunisia. It was on the sea and had, in addition to all the comforts of the twentieth century between its eighteenth century walls, a steady stream of visitors from all over the world.
Her first night there she dined with an industrialist from Milan, an architect from Madrid, a married couple who'd spent the past four years in Zaire studying gorillas, a Scottish missionary sadly heading back to the Highlands after a life of evangelizing work in Vietnam and a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman. The missionary had swum and drifted on logs down the Mekong after his flock fled in the last weeks of the pointless war there.
Also at the elegant dinner were two blond and tanned young men. Neither their educations nor their social positions granted them entry to such a sophisticated grouping, but their cocks did.
The hosts, Carlo and Tommy, an Italian film maker and his British lover who was rumored to be a secret agent under the cover of an Interpol investigator, found almost everyone on earth fascinating. They enjoyed the gorilla people although they were rather bookish scientists and the dedicated missionary who could barely go fifteen minutes without sobbing to himself about the fates of those he'd loved and nurtured for most of his life and who were scattered and maybe dead. They enjoyed sharing their sexual shenanigans with the architect who more than once was able to top their accounts with those of his own. They found the industrialist a bore but he was related by marriage so they could hardly deny him a place at their table.
The next night at the table the gorilla people and the industrialist and the blond boys were gone and in their stead were three bright-eyed and bright-thinking young men who were hitchhiking across Africa. Their tanned faces bespoke the months of travel they had endured. One of them had been deathly sick with dysentery and was just recovering. What they enjoyed most about being invited to dinner was the side benefit of getting to take baths. Warm water had been a dim memory for them.
Carlo, laughingly delighted in their young enthusiasm, had his servants wash all their clothing. Nobody who had ever met Carlo disliked him.
The third day Karin was astounded to see one of the world's brightest movie queens at the table with her gorgeous young gigolo. The three hitchhikers were there again and the guests were joined by a retired school teacher from Rosebud, Oregon, whom Tommy had found picking up sea shells that afternoon. She asked everybody questions and answered theirs as if she were passing out grades for their remarks. Tommy was doing nip-ups of delight watching her chat with the odd assortment of dinner companions. He'd hated school and symbolically, through this bespectacled woman, was showing off to his teacher, "Look, I've collected this fascinating assortment." For impish Tommy it was show and tell time.
Karin laid plans for Tommy, who never traveled without a pair of thumb cuffs he'd been given in grateful appreciation by a policeman in Los Angeles. They were a symbol of the S and M treatment the cop had only dreamed of receiving but never felt he'd be lucky enough to undergo at the hands of a brutish and captivating man.
Carlo, behind his bright dark eyes and perpetual smile, had a brain like a computer that was always working to the maximum. Next to his bed he had a camel hair whip of fine Moroccan leather, tit clamps from Chicago and a curious assortment of whips and belts. On his ass was a finely executed tattoo of a magnificent butterfly.
Karin laid plans to introduce this dynamic duo to Rod Anger. She wanted to see the sparks fly.
Who'd be the master?
While well-heeled Karin was enjoying her vacation from New York, Rod was falling on hard times.
Rhonda had left him. He missed her greatly, not for her oversized knockers, but for her productive power.
She could get him more money in an afternoon than most of the people in the dormitory could corral in three days. The youngsters, for the most part, who bedded down in the dormitory each night, were getting less and less reliable. A new generation was shifting to New York and Rod found truly subservient men and women were harder to come by. Oh, they were ready enough to submit to the whip, even crying for it on their hands and knees on several occasions, but they had no compulsion to support him.
The thought of working was detestable to him. He realized he fulfilled a need on this earth and it was the duty of the earth's creatures to support him. His tastes were expensive. One young girl had come in from a day of pan-handling and turned over four dollars and change. He threw the coins across the room and slapped her after them. She was temporarily deaf as a result and that night the dormitory cleared out. He was left alone.
There was nobody to cook for him. There wasn't even enough food in the larder for him to put together something.
Panic was not in Rod's nature. He'd been broke before. Calmly and systematically, he listed his assets. One of the dormitory departers had handily helped himself to the little glass vials with the white powder. Rod had counted on the sale of those items to bring in the next month's rent and keep him going.
He had a little grass he could sell. But what was a hundred dollars or so? He could spend that in a few hours and come home with nothing in his hands. He ignored the grass as an asset. He went to his address book and curled up in his throne with the telephone on his knee. There had been a notice in the mail that day that it would be turned off unless $97.54 came to the public utility. He kept accurate accounts but could ignore a bill easily when there was no money in the account. Where had it all gone so quickly?
Just keep cool, he told himself. God will smile on you. He wouldn't have given you this gift of enjoying life if He hadn't intended to provide you with the means of doing so. Those field lilies got theirs, he'd get his.
He could pawn his jewelry, but he didn't want to let the baubles out of his hands. They looked so regal against his beautiful skin. While he contemplated, he got out the box of gold chains, amber, jade, gold and topaz. He tried on one ornament after another. Rings slipped on and off his fingers while he turned them to catch the light. No, no one deserved them more than he did; he would not part with them. There would be another way.
Rod was shrewd but, like all idols, he had his feet of clay.
The something else which presented itself was Third Avenue. He needed new contacts. His address book, that hot August afternoon, turned up three busies, two machines telling him the machine owners would call back, about a dozen no responses, and one person so drunk he couldn't comprehend who was calling. Rod crossed that name out entirely. The rest of the phone calls were enthusiastic responses answered by people anxious to see Rod; but not now. He was astonished to hear a hysterical female voice on the other end of one call who screeched that if he was the goddamn queer who was messing around her husband she'd come over there and castrate him with her sewing scissors! She had two children and they needed a father; no goddamn mother-fuckin' faggot was going to break up her home. She was still spewing forth when he put down the receiver and noted in his book for the future, to call that one only at his office.
New York in August, for Rod's purposes, was as empty as Paris in August. He had to bring in some bread and pretty damn quickly, too.
After sundown he prepared himself for Third Avenue. How the mighty have fallen, he admitted as he headed for the ordeal.
He outfitted himself in skin tight Levi's, a form-fitting tee shirt, heavy boots, a wrist band of studded leather, a motorcycle jacket with a chain in one epaulet and a cock ring in the other, some poppers in his pocket and enough money to get to his destination by cab. He figured if he didn't have the money to cab it home, he'd be forced to acquire it. He checked himself in the mirror for the eighth or ninth time. Yes, he was perfect.
With self confidence unequalled in the history of modern man, he advanced to the East Side.
He set himself up along the east side of Third in the fifties. Young men in proper attire stood in doorways hungry-eyed but conceited. Their baskets were showing predominantly. He'd have to find someone pretty damn quick. He didn't want to cruise Third Avenue, he considered himself above such things, but he didn't have the time or money to get duded up in a suit and work the Oak Bar or one of the expense account hotels.
This would have to do.
He had judiciously not worn underwear so his genitalia showed to advantage. A woman walking her dog was the first to glance at him. He knew guys walked their dogs to cruise, but he wasn't too sure if women had discovered the technique yet. In any event, she did not look wealthy enough to interest him. When she looked over her shoulder, ostensibly to glance at the dog, but in reality to glance at the Adonis, he ignored her eyes.
She went on.
Finally after about forty-five minutes of sauntering up and down the five blocks he'd decided were his territory, a fortyish man who he took to be a lawyer stopped him and asked for a light.
Immediately Rod took him to be horribly square; no one had opened a conversation by asking for a light since Jimmy Cagney had stopped making movies.
The small talk was just that, small. Rod grew impatient and was about to move away when the man suggested a drink.
"Mister, I haven't got the bread to pay the rent, I'm not about to spend what I've got on a drink in a cruddy bar."
"How about having the cocktail in my apartment? I'm not very far away. I'd love to invite you up." Rod knew he had him but as insurance he said, "Look, you're a nice guy. I don't want to spring anything on you. I'm broke and I'm out here tonight to earn some dough. Dig?"
"That's clear. How much do you want to fuck me?"
"I'm expensive."
"You look worth it. How much, stud?"
The man's not unattractive face was alive for the first time. Rod guessed he was used to laying it on the line.
"Fifty bucks."
"Does that include using your belt?"
"Yeah."
"You've got a deal. Let's go."
Rod walked with the slender, well-dressed man down a side street, up three flights of stairs in a chic-looking restored town house, into a comfortable living room and accepted a Pernod in an expensive glass. He wished he'd asked for seventy-five.
After a few sips of the Pernod, Rod grabbed the man's ass.
"You're an aggressive mother, aren't you."
"I'm up tight."
"Take it out on me, oh, take it out on me, please. You're one hell of a man, I dig looking at you. Do anything, anything you want."
"My price has gone up."
"I figured it would. How much?"
"Seventy-five."
The man nodded agreement.
"�_"and cab fare."
"I'll give you eighty and not a cent more but you've got to be memorable. No maiming."
"Dig."
"Another drink?"
"Not during business hours. Let's smoke."
"I don't smoke grass."
"Poppers?"
"No, I go in for pure unadulterated sadism."
"It's nice to meet a purist."
The man smiled. He hoped that this time it would be worth the money.
Rod looked at his belt buckle; he'd chosen a two-inch wide black leather belt with the pyramid-shaped studs spelling out his name. The buckle was a heavy wing-spreaded eagle. He undid the buckle in silence. He grabbed the buckle in his hand and placed his other hand on his jeans. He pulled hard and the belt whipped through the loops. He held the belt dangling from his hand and started wrapping it around his big fist When he had about two feet of it left to wind, he stood to one side of the man.
"Strip!"
Without a moment's hesitation the man pulled his shirt and trousers off. He kicked off his loafers as his pants slid down slightly hairy legs. His body showed his occupation involved a lot of sitting at a desk. His flesh was flabby, not unattractively so, but he no longer had the body of an athlete. He was nicely hung if not out of the ordinary, at least he could display his cock without feeling ashamed of it.
"Turn and spread those cheeks."
"You won't overdo it, will you?"
"Bend!!"
The man quickly turned and cupped his balls in one hand, reached behind and pulled one ass cheek to the side. Rod smiled to himself, this guy has done this before, he told himself. He must have gotten one helluva whack on the balls to know to protect them so early in the session.
"So you're experienced, huh? I won't have to warm you up then; you'll get a full blast the first swipe.
Down!"
The man's legs shook as he obediently bent forward.
Whack!
His ass had been protruding toward Ron when that first swipe of the thick black leather belt caused it to turn red and show the marks of its two-inch outline. He tottered forward, his head below his knees.
"Jesus!"
"My name is Rod and you'll address me as such!"
A second whack and the welt had a companion. "Yes, Rod." Rod brought the belt well behind his shoulder and carefully calculated the distance to his host's ass. He placed his free hand on the man's bent back and lashed out with force and fury.
Swack!
The man's head jerked with pain and excitement. Manfully, he refused to utter a sound. This presented a challenge to Rod. He pulled his arm back high above his head and flayed the air as the heavy leather belt swished to his bare flesh.
Thwack!
Rod stepped back and admired his handiwork of four red welts burning on his ass cheeks. He directed the man to go to the sofa.
The man supported himself against the sofa. Rod, in his tight jeans and heavy boots, positioned himself and raised the belt once more. Thwack! The man buckled at the knees under the impact.
The sofa moved a few inches. He straightened himself up and with his teeth biting his lip he steadied himself once more. Thwack!
He bent over the sofa, his face down on the cushions. The bright red marks of Rod's strokes stood out prominently even in the soft, subdued light of the tasteful living room. Rod thrashed out again. The man's body shook under the impact of the weapon. Another welt was forming. Rod thought the marks were sexy. He suddenly realized how hard his own cock was.
The host turned his head around and peered over the edge of his shoulder to see what Rod was going to do next. He saw him undressing.
"But I like to see you dressed that way."
"Who asked you?"
"I'm paying for it!"
"Mister, you already got what you paid for. Anything else is pure gravy. Now shut up or I'll leave." That silenced him.
Rod punctuated his remark with a quick slap with the belt just to frustrate the man. He stopped eyeballing Rod. Rod swung again. The lawyer-type winced and groaned. Rod decided that as long as the man could take it, he'd dish it out. He was in that kind of mood.
The man's ass was almost all red by this time.
"Will... will you fuck me?"
"When your ass is warmed up enough."
Rod swung the belt. It slapped his stinging ass.
"Oh." Rod lay one more burning slap across the exposed thighs which caused the man to collapse to the floor.
Rod tossed the belt onto his pile of clothing.
"Grease your asshole and hurry up about it."
The man quickly led Rod to the bedroom and pulled back the Bloomingdale's spread which matched the curtains. From the night table drawer he brought out two kinds of lubricant.
"Which would you prefer?"
Rod took the one he liked, squeezed out a gob of it and swabbed it around his bare hot ass, making sure to smear it inside the rectum. The man patiently endured all the rubbing and stretching Rod did.
"Go spread-eagle onto the bed."
He did quickly as Rod commanded. Rod told him to tuck his head down. When the man looked neatly tucked up, Rod stood back, took a deep breath, raised his arms together and stretched the belt between his hands. He brought it down on the bare ass with force. It landed with a loud crack. As soon as he pulled the belt away a-new red welt appeared to criss-cross the others. The man's wince convinced Rod he'd had enough.
Rod's cock was so hard he could easily have cum right then and there but he wanted to postpone the climax for a while.
His cock was standing at attention. The man turned and saw the rigid organ pointing at him. He grimaced.
His fists clenched the bedding. Good, Rod thought, he thinks it's going to hurt like hell.
Rod looked at the welts he'd raised. The man was trying to move his ass to seduce Rod into sticking his big cock in it. Patiently, Rod wiped some of the grease on his cock. He put his hand on the burning buns to spread them apart. The heat from the welts startled him. He'd really been banging hard. Rod felt the excitement in his loins.
Rod's finger fished for the opening in the man's ass. Then he directed the head of his cock to it. Rod went at him with force. Once he'd seemed his coronal ridge just inside the lips of his asshole, he raised and lowered his hips by bending his knees. He worked the anal opening in order to create a larger target. After a few circles he felt it was ready for the thrust the man was paying for. Rod estimated the amount of resistance he could expect. He calculated that it would not be much. He rammed. It was tighter than he expected.
"Ohhhh!"
The man was in pain, Rod thought. "I'm glad I please you." He exhaled a slow, controlled amount of air. It was a nice sound, hearing him breathe like that as if to say, "I'm ready, willing and able to take what you've got." Rod pushed his straining prick in even farther. His hot buns warmed Rod's crotch. The hot body under his cock felt good. He pulled his prick out and thrust it into him again with force. Again. He took it. How he took it Rod would never know, but he did. The man kept his burning ass up in the air to let Rod's cock go as deeply as it could. He was game. Rod speeded his thrusts. Each stroke went to the hilt. The hotness Rod felt when his body got next to his was unforgettable. Rod kept racing back to the buns which put his cock deep inside him.
He could feel each gate of flesh inside as his cock passed inward.
Each hard-pumped stroke brought some of his heat to Rod's cock and it was heating up as well.
Rod knew that meant he'd soon cum. He fucked him in the ass even faster. He hoped it hurt him at the same time. He was pissed off he had to do this to pay the fuckin' rent!
The, host moaned and groaned. He tried to wiggle but he was too stiff. Rod fucked him continually. The man could only breath to the rhythm of Rod's fucking. Rod put one hand in his hair and pulled his head up and clasped his other hand around his mouth. Rod's climax was building. He pulled back on the handful of hair.
He took his hand out of the patient mouth and put it in his hair as well. Rod was pulling on the stretched hair as if it were reins.
Rod's hips were at the edge of the bed, so, with a minimum of thrust, he could sink his cock very deep very easily into the inflamed ass. With an extra hard thrust and an extra tight pull on the reins, Rod's climax took over. His body contracted and he clenched his teeth. A contraction deep in his balls threw buckets of cum into the burning ass chamber. One after the other the spurts�_"hot, sticky, pale globs of cum�_"rushed out of his cock into the invaded ass.
The man's legs quivered uncontrollably as he half cried into the sound absorbing pillow. His spasms grew less convulsive as he relaxed one muscle after another. The last bit of cum dribbled out of his cock just before he let it slip out of its hot chamber. He rolled over on his back on the bed. He was spent.
He panted a few breaths and felt the need for a smoke.
"Get me a cigarette, will you?"
The man laboriously got up off the bed, weak yet willing, and fetched the cigarette. Looking to the night table for matches Rod noticed the wet spot in the bedding. Well, what do you know, he'd fucked the guy so hard he'd made him cum. Rod mentally patted himself on the back for his achievement.
The man lit his cigarette.
"Thank you."
Rod thought at the time that expression sounded funny coming from his lips; he himself so seldom said it.
The man placed the money on Rod's clothing.
- Out on the street Rod wondered if he ought to call it a night or continue to scrape up some cash. He felt fresh; swinging the belt had worked up more energy than he'd utilized in cumming. He'd try another score.
It wasn't long in coming. A drunk staggered by giving Rod the inspection only bombed people can manage. Rod smiled.
"H-how much?"
"It depends on what I do, pal."
"I wanna suck your c-cock."
Rod knew instantly that as drunk as he was one good swallow of Rod's cock would make him gag, spoil his sexy mood and end the evening.
"Fifty clams."
"Shit."
"'bye."
The drunk staggered off. He reached the end of the block before he turned around and came right up to Rod.
"I'll give you forty and cab fare."
"I live in Newark, that's a twelve dollar ride."
"Okay, forty and twelve, that's fifty-two. Is it a d-deal?" Rod laughed to himself at the Pyrrhic victory the man had made for himself and then nodded agreement.
The second score hailed a cab and took him half a mile up town. They rode the elevator to a badly furnished apartment where the latest record seemed to be "The Fantasticks." The potted plants were flourishing.
As Rod had surmised, a few good swallows and the man was gagging on his knees at the edge of the bed.
One more try finished the man who had to go to the John. Rod dried off, smiling to himself all the while. The man returned, the color drained out of his features and his eyes glassy.
True to his word, he counted out the agreed-upon sum. Realizing how intoxicated the guy was, Rod could have palmed some of the bills and made him give him an even larger sum by confusing his counting, but he didn't bother. The poor sap had only been with him for five minutes and fifty-two dollars for five minutes is mighty expensive entertainment.
The man suggested the best place to get a cab. Rod tried to sound convincing when he thanked him.
He turned one more trick, then went back to the loft.
A telegram had been slipped under his door.
Inside he read the telegram while he sipped a drink of Scotch. He'd taken off his boots and had his feet up.
It had been a long evening.
The message was from Johnny Bassoff and Raunchy Randy Hollis up the Hudson. "Deal brewing. Need organization already operational. Clean up time. Will call." Those two had never stirred him wrong yet.
He'd gotten half a boatload of Colombian through them and had set up his loft. Operational organization, that's what they needed, Rod told himself. They need runners. They paid for what they got. He had to bring some people back to the empty dormitory.
The next day he got another telegram, this time it wasn't from Ossining, but from Rome. Leslie was coming back to town and wanted to arrange that introduction quite soon. Tommy and Carlo would be with her. Well, well, he laughed, it never rains but it pours. He lit a generous joint, refilled his glass, held them in separate hands and twirled around and around in a circle, laughing to himself, musically, his beautiful eyes sparkling.
"It never rains but what it pours, ah ha!"
He began singing. He started taking off his clothing and when he was stark naked he danced happily like a gamboling satyr of mythology.
He decided to trip.
With a hop and skip he opened the chest of drawers and took out the antique leather cufflink box from London. An old and rich admirer had presented it to him before he got into the leather scene. Inside the red velvet lining he had a tiny envelope big enough to hold two aspirin. In it was a sheet of paper with almost invisible black dots on it. He carefully cut out a square of the paper around one dot. He placed the communion on his tongue and swallowed it.
Within the hour he was dancing through the loft flaying his whip and clanking chains. At one point he was shouting to the world that he was Jacob Morley's ghost. He even opened up the window and screamed into the night that 'Ye Must Repent!' and followed that performance with a loud rendition of "Sing, You Sinners" on key.
The colors he saw were new to the spectrum and he distinctly held a conversation with Thomas Edison on how to get an achievement room table which would turn the human body to his master's will without the time consuming interruption of having to strap and unstrap, chain and unchain, each time. He thought of Karin and broke an older whip beating the "T" cross set up behind the table.
At one point he found himself sitting in the full lotus position under the table trying to make music out of the jingling of the various chains hanging from it. He thought he'd gotten the finale to Beethoven's ninth, but maybe he was wrong.
In any event, in the next several hours he gained some real insights into himself. He was magnificent! He was spell-binding. He was regal. He was insatiable. He was a marvel that would never grow old. He would last longer than the Catholic Church.
He touched himself and delighted in the texture of his flesh. He looked down at his erect cock. It was perfection, flawless. He stood in front of the mirror and let the reflector mirrors on the sides send his image off into infinity. There it was! The most sensational cock in the universe! He stroked it lovingly. How lucky he was that it was his!
He climbed up to his throne and spread his symmetrical legs apart, the dark hair adorning his muscles bowing to his magnificence. He ran his finger under his balls and cupped them in appreciation for all they'd done. He closed his fist around his cock and climbed its grandeur. He rested his fist under its eaves. One finger climbed up onto its roof and nestled itself in the soft indenture capping it.
His hand stole up and down the hot silo. For about the fiftieth time he put the inhaler to his nose. The fucker was empty. He grabbed the bright yellow fibered thing and broke it and stuffed it into his nostril. To hell with the inhaler. His hand raced up and down his cock, squeezing it tightly.
The silo's roof blew off and popcorn went to the four corners of the earth. Every taxi horn in New York sounded and the streets of the garment district were mobbed with people waving their arms and cheering at the top of their voices.
Floats from every parade he ever saw plus those from all the New Orleans Mardi Gras and all the carnivals in Rio drove past just to get a glimpse of his life-giving organ donating its bounty to the world.
The next morning he had a headache for all seasons and had to make coffee with his eyes squinched shut as tightly as possible.
After an hour's shower and his thirteenth cup of instant black coffee, he set about filling the dormitory so the Messrs. Bassoff and Hollis could make him rich again when the time came to fill him in on their money making proposition. He'd have something to show off to Kirin's friends from Rome, too.
CHAPTER SIX
Filling the dorm up again was going to be time consuming. He didn't want to risk not having the operational capability the two men would want. He started calling every phone number he had.
Dixie was the first girl he tried to inveigle into coming over.
"Rod, you're too mean."
"It's just because you excite me so. I get carried away."
"You won't hurt me this time?"
"I can't promise you anything. I just woke up this morning and had the hots for you so bad I'm sitting here with a hard-on that won't go away.. C'mon, baby, move back in."
"I'm living with someone else now, Rod."
"Is he as good as I am?"
"You know nobody is. But I've got a nice set-up here. He takes me out. He's sweet to me."
"But does he turn your twat on the way I do? You know that's where it's really at, don't you? Your cunt can only respond to my vibes."
There was silence at the other end of the line. She knew he was seducing her, but damn it, he did turn her on, he did dominate her. Rod was the one man she'd experienced who could fly her to the moon. Shit!
"I'll be over this afternoon," she said in a defeated voice.
"Bring a variety of clothing�_"you'll be going out day and night, probably."
"Are you going to make me panhandle again?"
"Honey, you know the score around here. Just bring in the bread, I don't care how you do it. Be here by three, I'm going to need somebody to fix my lunch." Rod hung up without giving her an opportunity to protest. He dialed Shirley. The routine was almost a duplicate of the one he'd had with Dixie. Shirley had left when she got pregnant and Rod refused to accept responsibility for fathering the expected child. Her abortion had soured her on men. Now, nearly two years afterwards, she felt strong enough to resist him. But she was wrong. The memory of his domineering masculinity and egomaniacal conceit fascinated her. She was like a moth going to the flame, only she knew exactly what destruction she was headed for. She didn't want to go back to the loft. Yet the lure of his pagan delights and the force of his personality and the delicious way he fucked undermined her resolve.
She packed a bag. Why did he want her to dress up now? Before he'd always preferred his followers to wear casual clothing.
As she packed her bag and prettied herself she grew excited. Maybe he'd fuck her on that delicious table right away. She put perfume behind each ear. It was her most expensive scent; she wanted to be seduced by him as soon as she walked through his door. Her cunt began to itch.
His third success was Pug. Pug was a street kid, ideal for ah sorts of things, not the least of which was a highly gratifying desire to be bound and held captive. He thrilled to being locked in a room for days at a time.
Rod often thought there ought to be a name for the neurosis Pug had.
Pug was working as a houseboy for a stockbroker who had fled from Arizona to avoid court action. He was loaded with money but could not step out of his apartment for fear of being served with one of several subpoenas. He'd advertised in some of the cheaper publications for a live-in houseboy. After Rod had gotten sick of Pug's whimpering to be chained to the wall, he'd sadly spent days and days in cheap movies, hiding in corners and living on popcorn.
In the men's room the John had run out of paper and someone had left parts of one of the newspapers for use much as the old mail order catalogues had been used in similar chambers.
Pug had seen the ad and bummed a dime to call to see if the job was still open. It was and he got it. He liked the staying at home part but he disliked the duties of doing the shopping, picking up the cleaning and going out for various and sundry supplies. When Rod called and asked him to come back, he jumped at the chance. Rod would chain him up at night, his employer would not. He might have to go out and panhandle but if he was sorrow-eyed enough, he could crawl back to his mat and feel the comfortable weight of his shackles which Rod was only too glad to put on him.
Pug had spent most of his life in prisons and felt very much at home in any kind of incarceration. He thanked his lucky stars all the way to Rod's and was the first to arrive. He dropped to his knees and kissed Rod's boots the moment Rod opened the door for him.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Rod had dressed to greet his guests. He wore black leather from head to well-booted foot. The aroma from his outfit filled Pug's nostrils. His neck was wearing a wide metal-plated choker and he had put an eye patch over one eye. On the other side of his head he was wearing one evil-looking earring. It was a silver skull hanging from a loop. He wore slave rings of leather on each hand.
The rings were around one finger with a black leather strap running up the back of his hand and attached to a black leather wrist band. He held a horse whip in one hand. Crack!
"Get off your knees, Pug, and crawl into the corner and keep quiet till I tell you to come to me."
"Yes, Rod, thank you. Thank you."
Rod had contacted two other possible disciples but had told them he was just checking to see how they were. He periodically called everyone just to keep in touch. These two were a Utile too willful and he only kept them on the string in case of an emergency.
Dixie, Shirley and Pug would form the nucleus of whatever organization Johnny and Raunchy Randy might need. Karin would call before she brought her European friends over.
Shirley, dressed in a safari jacket and Pucci blouse with a culotte skirt, had a small suitcase with her. She stood shyly in the doorway. Rod's attire inspired her to lust. She was always turned on by big, muscular men and seeing Rod standing there with his demeaning smirk of a smile, his leather jacket open to the navel with his great black hairy chest firm under the leather, melted her. She knew she shouldn't have left. She'd been a fool.
Rod poked the horse whip between her legs to see if her outfit was a shirt or actually culottes. It was a humiliation and Shirley was reminded of why she'd left originally�_"Rod was a selfish pig. She couldn't help herself, however, he was a gorgeous selfish pig. Nobody could fuck like he did.
She unconsciously touched her neck. Seeing him standing with his feet spread apart and humiliating her with his eyes, she remembered the rub of the collar around her neck when he fucked her. She had a feeling that this time she would stay.
When Dixie arrived Shirley was serving Rod a chilled martini. It was perfect. She was pleased to remember how he liked them. After leaving him she had gotten compliments on her excellent martinis whenever she prepared them. There had been times when she comforted herself for not feeling Rod's big prick in her with the knowledge that at least he'd left her with the ability to make the world's best martinis.
When he heard the anxious knocking at the door, he remembered that Shirley and Dixie had not gotten along too well together. Dixie had been jealous of Shirley's class and good mind. They shared the hang-up they had for Rod's authoritarian domination. It would be a coup to humiliate Dixie by making her instantly realize she'd have to share Rod's favors with the woman she did not like.
"Go to the door, Shirley."
The door opened on a happily expectant Dixie. Her face fell upon seeing Shirley. Her debasement was starting again.
"Hello."
"'lo."
Rod sent Shirley to the kitchen to make a pitcher of drinks for all of them and he welcomed Dixie by complimenting her on her looks and suggesting she take advantage of how good she looked by going out and selling her cunt for some bread later that evening. He was doing it as a test; he'd brought home enough the night before to see his needs were met for a few days till Johnny and Raunchy Randy showed up. Dixie agreed. There was a hesitancy in her voice as she did it though.
"You have some reservations?"
"I haven't been laid in three weeks. Can I... may I get it from you first?".
"That'll be fine. Shirley will enjoy watching."
He knew he was twisting a knife in her but she did not object. Good, he told himself; she's solidly hooked.
He'd fuck her but he did not like the idea of Shirley watching him do it. He had said it in an inspiration of sadism, now he was committed to it. He had an idea; he'd position Shirley to watch all right but he'd blindfold her so she couldn't see and make it a noisy fuck. That way her imagination would drive her crazy. He was pleased as hell with himself for thinking up such a scheme. He was really brilliant; there was no one on earth like him. God, he was proud of himself!
He barked at Pug who hurriedly came to his master like a dependent dog.
"In a few days we're going to embark on a terrific scheme. I'll tell you more about it when my associates arrive. Till then you'll carry on as before. Tomorrow I want you to bring me a hundred dollars each as a sign of your good faith. If you can't come up with it, don't come back. Dixie will be working outside tonight, but before she goes I'm going to give her a taste of what she's been missing. Drink up! I'm going to thrill you like you've never been thrilled before."
The drinks did their work and an hour later they were happily bending Dixie backward over a leather covered sawhorse, her feet shackled to the sturdy legs of the equipment. Her arms were chained to the festive board and pulled taut. Rod sat in his throne and watched as Pug stripped her clothing off her. Shirley sat between his legs and hugged his boot.
"Pug, you've got a hard on, fuck her for awhile."
"No! You promised me you'd fuck me."
Dixie was straining against the restraints, her hair falling down toward the floor as she raised her head to protest.
"Bitch," Rod roared as he sprang from his throne.
"Nobody asked you to complain. I want Pug to warm you up. You think I'm going into a cold pussy. And how dare you question my truthfulness?"
He cracked a small whip across her thighs. The sharp welt it raised shut her up.
"When I say I'm going to fuck you, I fuck. When I tell you to do something, you do it and no back talk.
When I'm through with you, you go out on those streets and don't drag your ass back in here until your box is stuffed with not one but two hundred dollars or don't come back. You insolent slut! I ought to brand you on the face for your big mouth. Shirley, bring me the tit clamps." Dixie was more upset that Shirley was witnessing her humiliation that she was at the prospect of torture from sexy Rod.
"Please Rod, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. Forgive me, I have been away for a long time. I forgot how honest and straightforward you are. I didn't mean anything by it." Shirley stood by the sawhorse holding the clamps attached to each other by a length of chain. Rod yanked them from her hands. "Please, Rod, please!"
Rod let the clamps and chain fall on her belly.
She strained her neck to see the equipment resting on her stomach, the chain piled up between her breasts.
"I don't like back talk. I want that two hundred bucks so I'm not going to use these on you at this time. I don't want to reduce your earning power. Yet. Now shut up! Pug. Fuck her." He got back to his chair and hooked one heel on the edge of the seat. It was one of his favorite positions.
He snapped his fingers and Shirley unscrewed a bottle of olive oil and oiled his legs while he watched Pug taking off his jeans and Dixie, her long hair falling to the floor, staring over her tits to see the jailbird disrobe.
Pug's body was squat. His cock was squat. His neck was short and his head was overly large. He was not attractive. Naked, he stood at the foot of the sawhorse between her spread legs. Her mound of Venus stood out because her body was stretched mostly through the groin and stomach. He put his hands on it. He knelt down and drew a long breath through his nose. Rod could feel Shirley's body flex when she heard him do it.
"Ohhhh," Dixie sounded wounded. It was a pitiable utterance but Rod heard its desire, too. She loved to be humiliated; it turned her on. He didn't quite understand why it gave her kicks but he knew the genuineness of it from his own thrill at dominating another person.
Shirley was rubbing his legs with slippery strokes and noisily sucking the air into her lungs. Dixie felt her heart race at the touch of Pug's bulldog-like hands. He stuck out his tongue to begin separating her cunt lips.
His tongue was very pleasantly pink and had a dull blue vein running like a biology illustration on either side of its underside. Stretches of white complemented the pink. The warmth of his breath was comforting on her flesh. She felt her own heat.
Dixie rolled her head from side to side and she awaited the touch of his lips and the tang of his tongue against her sweet folds. Their soft fleshy weight landed on the tender tissue of her pussy. They quivered. Pug put pressure against her pussy. He spread his lips apart slowly. His tongue made itself soft. It edged outward benignly.
Their flesh meeting caused a moisture to spontaneously generate and the meeting place was wet. A soft coo escaped Dixie's lips. Pug banged his head from side to side and made circles with his chin.
He pursed his lips together and pushed them to her. She rolled her pelvis. He sucked a little. She struggled to tip her ass higher so his invading mouth and tongue could service more of her soft inner flanges. On his knees between her legs, his tongue sliding excitingly up and down her wet pussy slit, his abbreviated cock was jerking with the joy of mouthing her heavenly pussy.
"Deeper! Oh, go a little deeper."
The warm honey was gathering in her pussy. He could feel it on his lips and it was beginning to invade his mouth.
"Ummmm."
Dixie could barely make out Rod and Shirley as they watched, enthralled. Shirley had her hand in her pussy as she drank in the spectacle of stocky Pug slurping and sucking between Dixie's spread thighs. Shirley was musing to herself that an active male tongue in her cunt was almost as good as the sound of Rod's voice when he wanted something done.
Dixie loved the glide of a cock in her cunt but she adored it when a man's mouth worked against her pussy.
She took pride in making them groan in ecstasy just as she suspected most men got their kicks from making her squeal and mewl and moan. She was getting off on his aroma, too. Damn, men smelled nice.
Pug, his face flushed and his eyes bulging, lifted his mouth from her drippy, opened cunt. He drew in a long, badly needed breath. His face was contorting. He sucked in a great amount of air and dived back into the crinkly hairs of her warm pussy.
"Eat her, Pug, eat her up!"
Pug did not need to be encouraged. Like a starved man at a banquet table he slurped and grunted as he slobbered and sucked her lips into his mouth. His fingernails dug into her smooth, hairless flesh. When Rod realized this he sprang out of his throne and was across the darkly lit chamber in two bounds. His whip stung the air as it was propelled across Pug's back.
"Mother fuckin' asshole. Don't mar her flesh!"
He laid the leather across Pug's back a second time. The end of the whip caught Dixie on the calf. She screamed. Pug tried to cower under the table.
"One more bruise or even a discoloration and I'll reduce you to a whimpering cur and throw you out." Rod strutted back to his throne and looped the whip around Shirley's neck. She patiently let her shoulders act as a holder for the whip. She was surprised to feel its warmth from only two lashes.
Pug had crawled back out from under the table, smarting from the put-down as well as the kiss of the lash.
He positioned himself on his knees and patiently returned to his cunt lapping.
"I've warned you, Pug," Rod said ominously.
Pug's face was hungrily buried back in Dixie's pussy and Rod was rubbing his crotch. Shirley put her hand back in her twat and was fingering her clit in soft easy, circular movements. She rested her head on Rod's thigh.
Dixie was straining for breath as her body undulated to the pressure of Pug's moving jaw. His hand was working frantically up and down his own cock in no time. His mouth began to take its rhythm from the speed of his stroking hand. Rod watched with detached amusement. Shirley was getting heated up from watching the facial flesh tones of Pug and Dixie change as their passion mounted. Her finger worked faster.
Pug was about to cum.
"Pug... Pug!"
"Don't waste it, Pug, put it on her," cried Ron in excitement as he strained forward in his chair.
Bright red in the face, his fist moving frantically, Pug managed to extract his wet face from her pussy and stood almost erect on cramped legs. His hand was still flashing up and down his cock as if it were in a race.
Shaking all over, he reared forward and tried to aim his swollen cock at her upturned cunt.
"Oh! I... I... I... !!!"
Dixie struggled in her chains. Quickly, she moved her knees apart, the only part of her body she could move at all. His cock was throbbing of its own volition. He could not get up high enough on his short legs to get it into her pussy, which was tilted upward but its volcanic eruption was upon him. He aimed it at her chest.
The white cum erupted. He groaned. He lurched. His sperm sprayed over her breasts. Her clit quivered as it fell upon her. The cum seemed to steam as it came in contact with her flesh.
"Uhhhhhh! Eeeiiihyyyyy!!!"
His cock was still shooting out volley after volley of hot sticky cum. Rod sank back in his chair smiling broadly at the miracle he had brought to pass. He was responsible for Pug coming. He felt divine. Dixie went limp on her sawhorse. Pug braced himself on the edge of the torture table and panted as the last drops dripped exhausted from his cock. Shirley sort of crumbled into a warm heap with her finger idly diddling her twat.
The droplets of cum began to dry on Dixie's body as her breathing returned to normal.
"Good job, Pug, now get away from the cunt. It's Shirley's turn to show what she can do." Shirley was taken aback by the sudden change in Rod's commanding voice. He bad grown sinister. She felt a black cloud pass over the sun. Suddenly everything was no longer pleasant; evil had entered the room.
"Get away from her, Pug!"
Rod bellowed it as he ripped the whip from around Shirley's head and cracked it above Pug's drooping head. Instantly, Pug moved backward from the chained Dixie; so fast, in fact, that he lost his balance and tripped over his own feet, landing on his backside on the floor. He didn't wait to straighten up. He crawled backward, propelling himself on his hands and pushing with his feet, scurrying his ass along the floor to get out of the range of Rod's whip as fast as he could. As soon as he saw he was far away enough so Rod's painful lash wouldn't reach him, he cupped his genitals with his hand as he watched with wide eyes for Rod to get out of his raised chair.
Something in the way Shirley had smirked to herself to see Pug's cum landing on Dixie reminded Rod that the girls were not the best of friends. He got a fiendish idea. "Shirley, lick the cum off Dixie's pretty body.
Shirley turned pale. She loathed Dixie. Dixie was a common thing. They were world's apart. No way would she do such a thing. It was unthinkable. She didn't move. Her body was frozen and the only indication that she had heard what Rod commanded was shown by the fact that her jaw had dropped open.
"Move, bitch, lick that cum off her skin."
"You can't ask me to do that."
Rod was on his feet instantly. The whip was hurriedly coiling up in his hands and he stepped off the dais to have enough room to lay it on her hard. It was unthinkable that this creature should even suggest that he couldn't ask anything he damn well pleased from her.
"Move!"
"I won't!"
The whip flayed the air. His booted feet stomped the ground as he lashed out fiercely with his whip.
Shirley's abused body tucked itself around the back of the chair. She dragged her legs as if she were a mermaid and her legs could not function except as a unit.
"Rod, no! Please! Oh!!! Rod!"
The whip was slashing through the air and crackling on her tender flesh sadistically. Rod had never been so furious.
"Get up! Clean her off or I'll dangle you out the window by your ankles." A shudder independent of her current fear swept through Shirley. She remembered the horror they all felt when he had threatened to do that with one girl who had gotten pregnant. He ordered her to get rid of the fetus. The poor girl didn't know what to do�_"it was before legal abortions. Rod had not touched her. He only ordered her to have it done.
She had stayed in bed for three days. When Rod realized the dormitory was supporting her in her opposition, he had come in with his whip and lashed at everyone.
The girl had been protected under a bed and one of the guys (who later had been found murdered on a deserted west side dock, his fingers, toes and cock cut off) had volunteered to take whatever punishment Rod had planned for the girl. The others had gotten her down in the elevator while Rod was tightening weights to the volunteer's balls and clamping sharp teethed clamps to his tits. Burns Rod put on his ass never had gone away. The marks of the chains around his wrists and ankles were still on his body when he was fished out of the Hudson.
Rod had ordered hot enemas for him and dildoes of an unhuman length and width put down his throat.
He'd lost three teeth that night.
When his body was full of plastic devices and water, Rod set to work with his whip and lashed him while reciting "Ten Little Indians" backward and forward, each number corresponding to a crack of the whip.
Somewhere around the second "five" the guy had passed out. Shirley still remembered the stench of the mess she and another girl had been ordered to clean up as a result. She was ready to retch.
"Move!"
Shirley felt the whip across her shoulders, breast and waist. Her head dizzy, her mind telling her there was no man worth it, she painfully got up off her ass and hurried over to where Dixie was bent over the sawhorse, her feet firmly held by shackles chained to the floor.
"Lick!"
Rod had gotten off his throne and was standing over her, the whip menacingly coiled in his big strong hands. She could feel the viciousness in his voice. Even the hairs on the back of his hands seemed to hold menace.
"Are you going to obey orders or do I have to beat obedience into you, you small-titted puss bag?" Dixie was looking up at Shirley with horror in her eyes. Instantly, Rod was behind Shirley, forcing her head back by pulling a handful of her luxuriant hair and shoving an inhaler into her nose.
"Deep."
She drew in a deep breath because she had to. He moved the inhaler to her other nostril with such force she thought he had ripped the cartilage of her nose. Her head hurt from the pressure of his pulling her hair.
"Lick, you patent lesbian."
Shirley felt hurt. After all the sexual performances she had engaged in for his stimulation and pleasure, after the total offering she had made to him of her body and soul, to think he would be cad enough to accuse her of being a lesbian. That was a lash far more painful than the leather implement he'd laid across her naked body. A tear formed in the corner of her eye and rolled down her flushed cheek.
Rug watched with a fear he did not understand. It was dawning on him that Rod's mind was likely to change at any moment. There was no guarantee that Rod wouldn't turn on him the next moment and flay him alive. He felt the terror that must be surging through Shirley. He was scared.
Dixie had the fear that Rod would lose his temper with Shirley's resistance and start slashing her with the whip. He didn't care where it fell and he might easily hit her more than once in his fury. She'd already felt the sting of one lash; in her helpless condition she didn't want to feel another. She was without defense, at least Pug and Shirley were able to crawl away. She closed her eyes and prayed for deliverance.
Another burning pain fell across Shirley's pampered body. Her tits grew hard at the touch. Her cunt was already hot from the fingering she'd given it and she gasped for breath as Rod's hot breath blasted against her chest. He meant business.
Dizzy from the lash, she got to her knees and tried to apply her mouth to Dixie's skin. She could feel the bound girl quivering under her. She pressed her lips together to give them some moisture; they were too dry.
She had to run her tongue around them several times before she was able to get them moist enough to move easily.
She knelt and reverently placed her lips on Dixie's cum-smeared body. She let her tongue steal out of her mouth. She licked.
She licked and tasted the cum Pug had deposited on Dixie's skin. It didn't taste any different than any other cum she'd tasted. If she didn't think about it she could do it.
"Lick, you cock-loving public whore."
Shirley, from a good family, smarted. Why couldn't she resist?
"Lick, I said, you cunt."
She licked again. The lash fell across the soles of her feet. Tears appeared in her eyes. She tried not to let them roll down. But they did. Dixie felt them burn into her skin. She felt a comradeship with Shirley, whom she'd never liked. This poor girl was being humiliated beyond anything she had ever suffered; she actually liked the degrading Rod put her through. Shirley was whimpering and crying. But she kept licking. The spots where her tongue had moved felt warm and wonderful to Dixie. She raised her head, which was a painful movement in her position, to be with Shirley as her tongue absorbed Pug's quickly caking cum.
"I'm sorry he's making you do this, Shirley. I know you don't like me." Dixie's voice, coming as it did from her fettered body, struck Shirley as so compassionate, so pitying, so sisterly that Shirley broke into tears. She continued to lick but the touch of her tongue told Dixie that Shirley didn't hate her any more. They were two women together in the same prison. They were sisters. Dixie felt the tenderness of her tongue. It was no longer following orders but its touch told her it was doing something kind, it was getting the burning cum away from her flesh. Shirley was her friend. Dixie whimpered to convey her new feeling to Shirley who moved her hand up to let the back of her fingers dust Dixie's cheek.
Rod was busy on his throne rubbing his crotch with the coiled whip. What is it about a long piece of leather that changes people so when it burns into their flesh, he thought, as he put the inhaler to his pose again.
Leather has a magic of its own. He was somehow a priest of that magic. He had a responsibility to leather. He had a responsibility to sex. He was not a young, man with exotic tastes and pleasures, he was high priest of some unknown God who somehow manifested himself in black leather. There was a reality to the whip which did not exist in cotton or gabardine or wool and acrylics or any other fiber. Leather was where it was at.
He stroked his crotch and brought the whip up to his lips and kissed it. It was the same adoration Pug gave him. It was the same adoration Dixie and Shirley had for him. What power was it he had? He was a custodian, he knew that, "but who were the other custodians? He couldn't be alone. On this earth the leather God must have other priests. He looked at his whip. He looked at Pug cowering in the corner. He looked at lovely Dixie stretched out, beautiful and desirable, held down by chains. He looked at Shirley, her delectable back and arms and hair stretched over Dixie's legs, her head resting on Dixie's knees. What power did he possess?
"Who wants my cum?"
All three of his victims called out at once, "I do!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Perspiration coated Rod's muscular body. It made some of the dark hairs of his body stick together. He put Shirley to work eating Dixie's cunt while he perched on the foot of the torture table and lowered his legs between Dixie's chained arms. He told Pug to release his subject's arms and when Dixie had moved them a bit to restore circulation, he guided her head to his cock. She was bent over backward trying to take his massive cock into her mouth. Pug's duty was to move from one to another administering the exotic vapor from the inhaler.
Rod cracked his whip in the air again and his startled crew rolled their eyes to see what his instructions would be. They were to Pug; he was to lie on his back on the floor half under the table so he could eat out Shirley's warm cunt while she did the same to Dixie. Dixie kept straining her back and neck to absorb more of Rod's rampant rod. Rod had his gloves and his leather slave rings off and was fondling Dixie's swollen breasts, pinching the nipples so their pink tenderness protruded between his fingers. He rubbed the tip of his fingers over them. The rubbing stimulated Dixie and her chest turned even more red than it was.
From the grubbing and the urgent gulps coming from the floor Rod knew Pug was enjoying himself. As his cock disappeared down Dixie's throat, his temperature rose. Shirley's slobberings were becoming more energetic. She was forcing her moist tongue deep into the soft pussy folds and steaming around her cheeks and nostrils. The weepings of Dixie's pussy were running over Shirley's chin. Her clit was steaming to grow.
Pug slurped joyously.
"Eat, you mothers," Rod cracked his whip!
Dixie's freed hands were holding onto Rod's thighs and occasionally she grabbed him by the ass to pull her mouth farther down his cock. The heat of her mouth was working on him and his cock was taking on a life of its own. He was reaching his climax.
"Faster, slut!"
He squeezed her tit. She contracted. Shirley felt this and moved her tongue even faster. She pushed her pudenda in Pug's face.
"Harder!"
All three victims were getting excited. The handsome, virile man they worshiped was going to shoot his load. It was a thrill they all lived for. The quickening movements of Dixie's exhausted body only heightened their excitement.
"Look, all of you," Rod ordered as he dragged his long cock out of the cave of Dixie's throat. It was wet with saliva as it came into view, hard and straining and shaped by the big veins running around it like a vine.
It was twitching; it was that ready to spew forth its treasure.
Rod got to his feet on the table, his body harness catching the light as he stood hot and panting on the table, his firm legs wide apart, his whip dangling from one big hand. Dixie stayed on her back to watch Rod's fist move up and down his cock. Shirley kept her face between Dixie's thighs and looked up at the apparition of domineering Rod towering over them. Pug was quickly crawling out from under Dixie's back, sticking his head up at her side to watch his master ejaculate.
Rod jacked himself furiously. His face was turning red. His body tensed. A small groan began in his diaphragm and started to race through his body and out his mouth. As it traveled through him, he raised his whip and let it crack down over Dixie's stomach and Shirley's shoulder. Pug brought his arm up and laid it across Dixie's stomach so the next lashing would touch him as well. Rod tried to combine the whip with his climax whenever he could so his followers would associate the sexual excitement with the pain and be able to enlarge the feeling of the one with the other. It was part of the head trip he laid on those he wished to dominate. "Ahhhh!"
The whip smarted onto their flesh again. The first spurts of his cum sailed out of the cannon he held in his hand and soared through the air, raining down on his three devoted slaves.
Shirley opened her mouth, hoping to capture some of it in her mouth. Pug turned his arm over so his palm was up. Dixie tried to spread her legs and arms wider so she could catch the drops which had eluded her. It took all the strength Rod could muster to raise the whip once more as his final spurts of cum flopped down on Dixie's neck. Crack The pleasure-giving whip hit all three of then, again.
There were tears of joy in Shirley's eyes as she relaxed her muscles and sat in an exhausted heap at the feet of the prone girl. Pug let his body go limp on the floor and Dixie rolled over onto her stomach and let out a sigh of exhaustion, laying limp over the torturous sawhorse.
Rod drew in a deep breath and expanded his chest like a mighty stag over his victim. He stood like a victor in triumph. The air was filled with their sighs of satisfaction.
"Into the shower�_"I'm going to hose you down."
Shirley sighed and forced her hands to undo the restraints binding Dixie's ankles to the sawhorse. Pug got to his hands and knees as the whip fell from Rod's hands and landed next to him on the floor. He knew what that meant, he was expected to coil it up and put it away. It was an unwritten rule that whoever Rod tossed the whip at was to clean up whatever paraphernalia was lying about.
The shower Rod ordered them into was not really a shower. It was a long, tiled piece of wall. There was a trough at the base of it In all, the tiled area must have been eight feet long. The tiled floor sloped and a drain decorated the middle of the trough. It had been a communal urinal back in the days when the loft had been a shirt manufacturing plant. There was still the copper pipe running along the top of it to dispense water. Rod had secured heavy metal rings to the wall in four places above the tiled wall. More heavy metal hooks were embedded in the ceiling above the "shower."
The three victims stood as if before a firing squad on the edge of the trough, the girls' long hair dangling down over their shoulders. Shirley was in the middle and Pug turned his face to the wall as Rod stood in front of them and aimed an abbreviated length of garden hose at them. Reaching behind him to the sink, he turned on the water. When he got a temperature he thought they could tolerate, he washed them down, sending the sweat, cum, slobberings of all kinds and a few drops of excitement-produced urine down the drain.
When he had turned off the water and the three stood dripping wet awaiting their dismissal orders, Rod casually dropped the hose and announced his plans for dinner.
"I want a Porterhouse steak rare with onions and a green salad. No tomatoes. Have it ready at eight o'clock."
Rod let Dixie dry his cock which he had wetted to remove any little lost drops of cum. Dry, he walked out of the shower room and into his sleeping chamber. He closed the door behind him and slept till seven. He got up, did his exercises and prepared himself for dinner. Dixie presented him with his martini. While he drank it he questioned them about what they'd brought in. Shirley was high man with $124 and two big steaks. She'd stolen the steaks. Rod didn't bat an eye upon hearing that she'd stolen them. He wanted to know if they were well marbled. She presented them for his inspection. He chose the one he wanted and told them they could divide the other amongst them.
Just before Shirley served him his salad and steak smothered in onions, the phone rang. It was Raunchy Randy. They'd be over in an hour, would he be alone?
"Yes."
At the end of the meal he ordered the three out into the night to bring back cash. He told them under no circumstances to come back that night, but not to stay up all night; they'd be embarking on a major mission the next morning.
Johnny Bassoff and Raunchy Randy stepped out of the elevator. Rod greeted them in black leather pants and jacket with a motorcycle cap on his head. He wore a dog collar around his neck. He had spurs on his motorcycle boots. It was his "no nonsense" outfit.
Johnny did the talking while Raunchy Randy held a large bundle wrapped in newspaper and tied with cheap white cord in his lap. He wouldn't put it down.
Johnny, in his gruff prison-trained voice, wanted to know what kind of operational set up Rod had to distribute large bills and bring home smaller ones.
Rod said he had contacts at pimp bars which were very used to large bills. He also could change large denomination currency at three whorehouses and could do the same with a Harlem numbers kingpin. Johnny was satisfied.
Raunchy Randy never took the gum out of his mouth as he said, "Look, pal, what kind security you got, huh?"
Rod took them on a tour of the place. Raunchy Randy kept muttering under his breath at the sight of the pleasure table, the chains hanging everywhere, the handcuffs, the whips, the eye bolts in the floor and walls.
"Jez, youse can smell nutt'n but leather. What'd this used t' be, a tanning joint?"
"It still is."
Johnny caught the joke but it was wasted on Raunchy Randy.
"Christ, you got a fortune in leather alone in here. You're one kinky dude, Rod." Rod led them to his sleeping area. It was against a wall of the building. At the head of the bed was a large oil painting. It was eight feet tall and in somber hues. It depicted a brutish giant with bulging biceps. His body was nude and rippling with usuable muscles; his cock and balls were harnessed by a leather cock ring which wrapped around each ball separately. The penis was long, fat, heavy and crowned with a prodigious head. In the bit of flesh left from its circumcision hung an actual gold ring. The face was stern and angular. The hair was short The whole head sat on a bullneck which tapered into wide heavy shoulders. The chest was powerful and the definition of all his muscles was breathtaking to Johnny.
"Jes-us! Friend of yours, Rod?"
"That's me. I posed for it for three weeks. A dude I used to know was so taken with the way I looked that he paid me to model and promised me the painting as well. I told him the size I wanted and he agreed. He even paid for the gold ring in the cock, see there?"
Johnny sucked in his breath. The painting seemed alive with menace. It looked as if the figure would jump off the canvas and smother the viewer. "Goddamn, it looks three dimensional."
"That's because of the technique the painter used. He didn't do it with a brush, he did it with a trowel. See, it's layered on. Now watch."
Using the gold ring attached to the painted cock, Rod lifted the painting forward. He scrambled backward on the bed, the two men crawling backward to get out of his way. The ring pulled the entire picture up as if it were the lid of a bin. Rod got to his feet on the bed and stood up to hook the gold ring to a hook hanging on the bottom of a lightweight chain which was all but invisible because it was painted black. Behind the gigantic portrait was a series of shelves. It looked like a huge medicine chest made entirely of chrome steel.
"Of course I can use the combination lock but no one ever comes in here. It's just like a vault, I got it on sale. It was a demonstration model, but it didn't sell. People didn't like the idea of all their stuff being available right up front on shelves. All a dude would have to do is open one lock and Zap, he'd have his hands on everything. But it fits my purposes perfectly. I can store all the junk you want right here."
"That's all the security you got?"
"My real insurance is that the people who are around here, my devotees, shall we say, worship me. They'd crawl through fire for me. Anybody breaking in here would have to kill them to get at anything. They're that loyal. And there is always somebody here. There's three out there now."
"Let's take a look at 'em."
"I sent 'em all out so we could rap alone."
"How reliable are they?" Rod explained they were not compelled to stay. "My best hold on them," he said with pride, "is that they think I'm terrific and they want to be around me. If I abuse 'em too much they take off. Fine with me. I sometimes overdo the whip, you know, lay it on 'em too hard too often just to get rid of those that bore me. Mostly, however, I psyche 'em out and don't give 'em enough, ever. That's how come they keep coming back for more because they're never satisfied. It's my best insurance." Johnny was impressed. Raunchy Randy thought it was double talk, but Johnny trusted Rod so he'd go along.
The safe contained on its six shelves: a picture of him in his Army uniform, a ring which had seventy years ago belonged to his grandfather, a deck of cards with the seal of the President of the United States, some cufflinks a girl he used to go with had given him, and a brown paper bag. The bag had about three ounces of grass in it. For no reason except that he didn't want to throw it away and there was no place else to keep it, he had casually placed on one shelf an old address book. Most of the space on the shelves was empty.
The portrait came down into place and Rod smartly knocked it the last quarter of an inch. Raunchy Randy was impressed with the fit of the portrait in the frame. The naked eye could not detect that there was anything at all behind the portrait.
"Now we'll get down to the nitty-gritty," Johnny said as he laid the newspaper-wrapped package on the table at which the three men were seated.
Raunchy Randy sat backward on the chair, his arms resting on the back and his chin on his arms. Johnny did the talking.
"Rod, we got a gold mine here. I just got paid off by a dude I'd helped out. He was a little behind and so Raunchy Randy and I paid him a social call."
Rod glanced at Raunchy Randy. Randy was running his fingers over the knuckles of his right hand. The knuckles were freshly scabbed over.
"He paid off in this."
He patted the newspaper bundle.
"Now we got one problem solved but that always creates another so we come to you, see? We got thirty-eight thousand dollars here in funny money."
Rod's eyes zoomed to the bundle. The pulse beating of his heart seemed to make the package expand and grow. The simple bundle suddenly had a hypnotic power such as magnificent jewels have, like Karin's emerald had. Rod couldn't take his eyes off it.
"Not only cash but the plates as well. We need two things; A, a place to stash the plates till we can unload 'em; and B, a way of breaking down the bills. They're hundreds. We may be hot�_"the creep took offense at the methods Raunchy Randy used on his wife to convince him to pay up. He just might rat to the pigs. We don't want the plates to be found. There's no connection between us and you on paper. Unless the boys in blue tail us, they'll never know we know you so there's no heat on you. You let us store the plates in your safe and we'll pay you five hundred a day like rent Deal?"
Rod thought quickly. Johnny began to unwrap the package.
"Don't unwrap them," Rod said.
Rod thought that if the cops did come in and find the plates, he could say he didn't know what was in the package. He could truthfully say he'd never seen the plates.
"Swell. That's A. Now B. Can your people pass the bills? We don't dare, but there's no legal connection between us and any of the weirdoes you got hanging around. You can have ten percent of the dough." Rod's mind raced again; it sounded good. Ten percent of thirty-eight thousand bucks was nearly four grand, a windfall if ever there was one.
"You're on."
"Terrific. I got to unwrap the package; the plates are wrapped separately inside so you're covered by not seeing. That's what you had in mind, wasn't it?"
"Dig."
Johnny unwrapped the bundle and brought out brand new crisp bills wrapped together with the kind of band that comes on shirts from the laundry. Again Rod's eyes grew.
"Why don't you see what your people can do? If they spread the bills around nicely, we might just have the nucleus of a very nice business. I'll be by tomorrow to see how you've done. Here's my number." He began writing his phone number on a match book from one of his pockets.
"You will refrain from mentioning anything which could be picked up on tape. 'Bout the only thing that son of a bitch Tricky Dick did for this country was teach us not to speak where we can be picked up on tape.
Everything copacetic with you?" Rod nodded.
"Oh, one more thing. Don't let 'em pass too many bills at a time. And never, never, go back to the same place or person twice. That's bottom line. And one more thing," he stood up as he said it and measured his words with frightening care. He continued in a low-pitched, sincere voice.
"You won't be imprudent enough to try and do us any dirt like walk out with our little bundle? That would be very unwise."
Rod automatically glanced at Raunchy Randy who grinned up at him from his resting place on the back of the chair. He rubbed his knuckles.
"I don't think I have to make myself any clearer to a smart operator like you, Rod. Keep your nose clean and you'll make a profit. Think of all the fun you can have with four thousand dollars. Don't be greedy. It's unhealthy."
Johnny and Raunchy Randy got up and walked out the door without a formal leave taking. Rod was left with the plates still wrapped in newspaper and the stack of fifties.
He took the precious parcel to the bedroom and put the plates under a brown paper bag. He counted out ten fifty-dollar bills and put the rest in the shelf. He went to the Achievement Room and summoned his subjects.
As always, the light in the achievement room was subdued. He lit one candle. It did little to illuminate the chamber but it cast an unreal shadow across his face as he gave them their instructions. He liked candlelight and he liked the dream quality it cast. The myth he created for himself in their obedient eyes was enhanced by the candlelight.
He gave each of them three bills and told them to bring back fives and tens. He wanted smaller bills to pay off petty debts. They were to deal only with places and people they knew casually, no close friends or associates. He wanted them back in two hours.
Thus, he sent his little army of devoted followers out into the streets of New York.
Pug took the TRT to Eighty-Sixth Street where he walked into a bar he occasionally patronized.
"Congratulate me, Pete, I did good at OTB."
He paid for his drink with a fifty. The bartender congratulated him and he bought Pete a drink.
"Gotta split, I'm going to Queenie's for a hot piece to celebrate. See you, Pete." He then went to a bar on Amsterdam Avenue. He repeated his story and walked out with four tens, a five and three ones after leaving half a buck tip. So far it had only cost him four dollars. Rod had indicated he could spend up to ten dollars in bringing back the correct denomination bills.
Pug's third stop was at his grandmother's. She always lent him money when he was broke which Was not infrequently. He owed her twenty right now. He asked her if she could change a fifty. She could not, being a prudent New Yorker she kept as little cash as possible about her home. The grocer, down the block would, however. Pug accompanied her to the all-night store and she bought coffee. That took care of his third bill.
Rod would be mad he had given her twenty, but he'd pay Rod back. After all, he could have ten dollars to spend, Rod had said, and so he'd only owe him about five dollars, counting the ten he could have. Pug liked to do arithmetic in his head.
Shirley called a lawyer she knew. He always paid well for a lay. She had been introducing him to her more sex-oriented girlfriends for years. He always gave her about twenty dollars for the introduction. He was not very social so he found it difficult to pick up his own women. Shirley knew he'd have a lot of tens and twenties on him. He was not a prudent New Yorker.
She was able to change two of the bills at his place but when he handed the bills to her he wanted sex for the favor. She said she didn't have time.
"Just a quickie, Shirl�_"I'm hot just staring at those damn tits of yours." She protested there was no time.
"Gimme some head then. I'm ready to pop."
Shirley instantly knelt down in the middle of his living room at UN Plaza with the drapery open on the floor to ceiling windows. The lights of Manhattan sparkled outside as she unzipped his fly. His limp prick came out easily and she held it in her hand to put into her moist mouth.
"That's it, honey, suck it into your sweetmouth. Oh, that feels terrific." Shirley could feel his cock growing hard in her mouth. It stretched itself and moved ever farther down her throat. She swept her lips over its velvety surface. It slid smoothly. As it filled her mouth she sucked in air through her pretty nostrils and worked her lips farther along his swelling organ.
"That's it, baby, suck me good."
Shirley stretched her torso so she was at the proper angle to blow him to get the quickest climax. She had another bill to change before she could go back to Rod. Maybe she could give him some head. If she was lucky he would tie her to the table and she could feel his hot breath as he worked her over. She tightened her mouth and stroked it up and down his jutting cock.
She rolled her tongue around the head of his uncircumcised cock. She could feel the foreskin oozing back off its head. She rubbed her tongue over the expanded head. "Oh, baby, you're doing me. Keep it up." Shirley closed her hands around the back of his knees and bounced her head up and down his shaft, saliva covering it and reflecting the light as she let it slide out of her mouth. Quickly, she recaptured his organ and slathered over it again as it raced over her tongue. She pulled back so just the head of it was between her lips and then raced down it once more.
"Oh, oh, oh, baby, oh."
She could feel his body tension. His hand was rooting through her hair. "Oh. OH." Suddenly she could taste the sharp cum in her mouth. His cock flexed as more and more of the precious fluid flooded into her mouth. She could feel the contractions as his body automatically pumped it into her. His knees began to vibrate. His body quivered as if he were standing on an earthquake.
Shirley pulled her mouth off as soon as she decided he had shot his wad. She looked up to his face; he was flushed.
"Wow, baby, you're getting better!"
He hugged her in appreciation and she could feel his heavy breathing. His body was damp from the perspiration his climax had caused.
"Thank you, honey. You're an angel from heaven."
Shirley felt cheap. She mumbled some explanation and apology for rushing off as she was but she had things she simply must do.
"I'm grateful when I'm lucky enough to see you, even if it's for a few minutes. I hope it won't be long till next time, You have other talents I'd like to experience again."
"I know, Steven, I'll see you soon, I promise, but right now I've simply got to get going. Bye." She kissed him on the cheek and reached for her bag. She walked deliberately for the door, smiled to him as she closed it, and hurried to the elevator. One more bill to go.
Dixie was having more difficulty peddling her money. No one she knew seemed to be home. Even Chester, the lab technician for the bicycle riding doctor, was out at least he was not answering his phone. Lillian and Monica were out. As Dixie heard the phone echo in their empty apartment she had no idea they were bound and gagged scratching desperately to move their naked bodies across the floor to the phone. Monica was terrified they would die of starvation. The burglar had raped Lillian but ignored Monica sexually. She was flat-chested, and terribly thin everywhere else. He had taken the engagement ring off her finger; she'd gotten it only four days before.
Lillian was scratching, sliver by sliver, toward the phone. They were bound back to back so it was difficult moving. They had been edging for forty minutes to cross the room when the phone rang. Now they were sweating in their attempts to knock the receiver off the cradle. If only the caller didn't hang up till they got there. The phone stopped ringing.
Their overworked hearts sank. Lillian's face hurt terribly, her whole body ached. She was black and blue and one eye was horribly bloodshot; he'd beat her mercilessly.
"Oh, please, God," she thought, "don't let us die like this." Their bodies were bound so tightly, circulation was cut off in their hands. Desperately, they inched their way along the floor. The thoughtful burglar had ripped out the phone in the bedroom but his brutish fucking of Lillian had distracted him so he forgot to disable the one in the living room.
Monica kept thinking of what her mother constantly worried about in Morristown; that she wouldn't be safe in New York. If only Bart were here! Her jaw ached from the tightness of the gag.
"We'll make it. We'll make it. We'll make it. We'll�_"" Dixie hung up. Damn! Nobody was home.
In exasperation she stood on the sidewalk tapping her foot as she puffed on a cigarette. What the hell could she do?
"Aren't you going to ask me if I want to go out?"
Dixie blinked as she realized the voice was speaking to her.
"Wh-what?"
"I said, 'Aren't you going to ask me if I want to go out?'" Dixie started to walk away.
"I don't mean to be rude. I just thought you were attractive and I was hoping you'd like me. I know I'm not as good looking as some other guys, but I'm a nice guy. I wouldn't hurt you. Honest." Dixie stopped in her tracks. It dawned on her. She was being mistaken for a prostitute. Of course, she was on Eighth Avenue near the theatre district. This was hooker territory. She turned to the young man talking to her to tell him to fuck off. She opened her mouth; Nothing came out.
He was slender. His voice had a slight Southern accent. He was large-nosed but it was not unattractive. His eyes were expressive and his mouth had a smile which automatically caused her to smile.
"I've never had a professional and you looked so damn good to me I was hoping we might make it together. I'd be gentle."
"Mister, you're barking up the wrong tree�_""
"I swear I wouldn't hurt you. I'd like to kiss you all over and suck on your breasts and fuck you so well you'd be glad you got me, but I wouldn't bruise you or hurt you or be mean or not pay you or anything.
Please."
Dixie was unhinged by what she was hearing. "Look-"
"If the going rate is twenty, I'll pay forty�_"" Her mission flashed before her eyes. "OK. What hotel are you staying in. You're from out of town, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am. Auburn, Alabama."
"Lead the way."
"Oh, wow. Let's get a cab." The attractive young man dutifully stood on the curb and called "taxi" to the flashes of yellow that whizzed up the avenue. Amid the sidewalk traffic and automobile commotion Dixie saw how shyly this sweet tourist with the Sears and Roebuck clothes was trying to flag a cab. She stepped into the street, put two fingers in her mouth, and with a piercing whistle brought a taxi to a screeching halt.
CHAPTER EIGHT
They were right inside the door when he grabbed her by the upper arms, pulled her to him and kissed her sweetly on the mouth.
"I wanted to do that before, 'cept I didn't want to be too familiar." Dixie didn't pull away. He gave her plenty of time to do it, but she stayed right there, thrilling to the feel of his strong hands on her arms. He kissed her again, longer. She kissed him back. When they broke, she kissed him gently on the cheek.
Dixie led him to the bed. They sat down and their arms were all over each other. Dixie liked his kiss. It wasn't the best she'd ever had but had a certain pleasantness because he was so intent about it. He didn't bend her neck till it hurt or anything, Dixie clasped her hands behind his neck, and they bounced their lips on each other's. They rocked their faces. He began growing bolder. He let his hands explore her back.
His tongue began penetrating her mouth. She let her fingers wander in his hair.
Johnny let his fingers wander down her body and glide along her leg. She thought it was silly for him to wear his tie so she began undoing it He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple moving up and down like an antique elevator. Since her hands were on his shirt, she unbuttoned it.
Quickly his hands left her and his nimble fingers were undoing buttons. His shirt was off him in a flash. He wore a tee shirt and that flew over his head and landed on the floor. His body was wiry, muscled and slender.
His chest was flat, but attractive. He had practically no hair.
Dixie stared at him. He suddenly seemed afraid to move. She threw her arms around him, kissed him all over his face and tongued his ear. His arms were around her in a bear hug. She let her kisses go over his neck and then dot his blank chest.
His big hands gently caressed her hair. When her lips had surveyed his body, Dixie followed his slender muscled arms to his hands, and with eyes closed, guided them to her breasts. He slowly polished them through the material of her clothes. He planted a patient kiss on her forehead and his fingers began removing her clothing. Her temperature was much higher.
Dixie waited till he guided the garment off her shoulders. Her breasts were exposed, but he didn't look at them. Instead, he kept his soft lips on her face and his eyes closed. His fingers and palms massaged her breasts. He bent and kissed each petite tit and the space between them. Reluctantly, he took his hands away and bent over to pull off his shoes. His socks followed and landed somewhere dose to the shirt.
Johnny stood up and reached for his belt buckle. The leather belt opened, but Dixie put her hand on his to prevent him from opening his trousers.
She looked at him, smiled and then reached for his belt herself. Johnny unzipped his fly. That was ah he did. She reclined. Both arms were over the back. She watched him take his pants off. He slid them down his slender legs. Dixie was surprised to see how powerful his legs were.
He hesitated before he reached for the waistband of his shorts. Dixie gazed at his face. Half a smile crossed her countenance. Johnny removed his underwear.
At first she didn't look at his cock because she didn't want to care what it looked like. It would be what he did with it that would be important. But she couldn't help herself, curiosity had killed the cat.
Dixie opened her eyes and let them take in the sight. They started at the top, at his face, and dropped down his hairless chest and gazed at his organ which hung between his straight legs. It was long and slender like the rest of him, with a fine crown and a deep circumcision mark. It wasn't hard either. It just hung there. Dixie reached out her hand and held his penis in her palm. Slowly, so she could still hold the fat sausage-like instrument, he descended. Dixie had to let go then, and he kissed her mouth tenderly while his hands began taking off the rest of her clothing.
Her hips were naked as he pulled her to his smooth skin. His buttocks felt firm under her hand. She loved the smooth feel as she ran her hands back and forth across his big ass muscles.
The movement was imperceptible, but it gradually brought Dixie underneath him on the cushions. Neither realized she was on her back until she felt his penis hard against her thigh. Its increasing size sent it against the point of least resistance, and it slid between her pale thighs. Dixie shuddered when it touched her crotch.
The feeling of his body and the considerate way he kept his weight off her torso caused her to undulate one part of her body after another in order to touch him with her flesh in every possible place. Dixie's hands played on his ass. His lips began to decorate her face and neck and he exhaled softly on her collarbone.
His hands molded and fondled her breasts, and it wasn't too long before he dropped his mouth down and sucked subtly on her firming nipples. Imprisoned in his mouth, the nipples felt his tongue pass back and forth like a metronome.
Johnny realized before she did that she was shifting her hips. His cock strained to be enclosed in her warm and supple body. Dixie's hands were back in his hair when he finally nudged her knees apart. She raised them without flunking. Johnny didn't move his strong shoulders when he eased the grown organ between his legs to her tingling cunt. It was a slow hip movement which drove the head of his cock to explore the hairs of her cunt. He was so delicate, so subtle. Most young guys betray their youth and inexperience with a girl by rushing as if it were a race.
Dixie didn't have much time to think about that because Johnny was nudging the head of his cock into the tiny crevice between her moist labias. His long, slender cock moved into the quivering space like a 747 lumbering along the ground. It must have been a full minute before it was securely embedded in her eager cunt.
"Am I hurting you?"
He kissed her mouth. His body didn't move.
Dixie tightened her muscles, around his prick. Only then did he tentatively push his hips toward her. His hot cock parted her flesh with an easy advance. He drew his ass back and his healthy prick pulled out. A ripple of pleasure radiated from her cunt all through her body. Johnny sent his proud organ forward once more. Lovingly, he filled her body with even more ripples like the first one. A soft "ohhh" came out of Dixie's mouth.
She moved her hands a lot, but mostly they rested on the sides of his hips. His mouth was puckered and pressed every bit of her face and neck. He was nibbling on her earlobe and her hips were going around in circles when she heard him breathing. It wasn't exactly breathing, it was more like whispering.
Dixie discovered he was saying something. She strained her ears to hear what it was he was repeating so softly. "Sweet lump."
She was thrilled and almost cried. It was so Southern.
Dixie was so grateful she tightened her whole body on him. Moist with the exertions of their copulation, Johnny moved his hips with more verve. Each advance into Dixie's slender body by his strong hips sent her torso deep into the bed. She worked to meet his thrusts with comparable undulations.
They were breathing to the same rhythm. He felt the slippery smoothness of her cunt gripping and swirling around his expanded prick. The head of it was deep within her, even when he drew its sizable length back.
The coronal ridge of his long cock rubbed against the firm knob at the top of her cunt. Each movement of his smooth body put pressure on it and she was awash with ecstasy.
They both wanted to say how good it was, but neither had the courage to speak for fear it might break the spell. Instead, they tried to convey with their bodies the rapture conveyed by the touch of the other.
Their hips moved with force and his cock slid in and out with increasing speed. Dixie's breathing was controlled by the movements of his body. Her body was bouncing. He was fucking so hard she was actually bouncing up off the bed. His cock seemed to fill her and her vagina clung to him when he retreated.-That's what pulled her ass up off the bed. His fiery cock had grown a lot since it was sheathed into her warm pussy.
Johnny's breathing was getting noisier. Climax was coming. Dixie could smell the perspiration that was dampening his back and neck. She kissed the area between his ear and his cheek. She was making muffled noises in her throat. His cock was pressing her clit with each advance. She could feel her hardened bud being rubbed by his fast-moving prick sliding in and out of her wet pussy. Dixie dung to him to enhance the thrilling fucking.
"Ahhh!"
Dixie groaned. He hiked his hips and drove into her faster and clutched her warm body with his firm hands. His throat began to growl in a quiet way, but it got louder and more intense. Dixie couldn't control any part of her body, the juices were making noises�_"slurping and shushing with each stroke.
She locked her ankles together behind his ass., She clutched her arms together around his neck and hung on while he rode her first up and then down into the mattress.
Johnny's growl became a shout and his cock threw gobs of cum into her hot body. She tried to tighten all the inner muscles she could and pressed her lips against him as hard as she could.
They must have quieted down because the next thing she remembered was waking up still clutching his torso. Her stirring woke him and without thinking, he was gently kissing her on the cheek.
Dixie returned to the loft at noon. Rod was stretched out over his throne wearing black leather chaps. She'd seen him in this costume before. It had the ass out so his cakes protruded.
They zipped up the inside of the legs, the only way to get them on. His cock and balls were cupped in a heavy leather codpiece. Actually it was a leather jock strap he had especially made for himself. His hard chest was exposed but around his neck he wore the two-inch studded collar. He wore motorcycle boots on his feet which dangled over either arm of the chair. When Dixie saw him with his crotch exposed like a woman's cunt when she spreads her legs as fax as she can, she wondered why he chose to sit in that position; it had to be uncomfortable. "Come here!"
She approached the raised throne with trepidation. She couldn't determine what kind of mood he was in, his face was unexpressive.
"Kneel!"
She knelt on the top step, her face poised between his wide-spread knees. "What have you got?" Dixie opened her bag and brought out the smaller bills he had sent her out to get. He counted them.
"Your arithmetic is good, but you don't know how to tell time. You were supposed to be back last night."
"I... I couldn't get the bills changed and had to keep going till I could. It was late when I finally got them changed and I was tired so I stayed at a friend's house." His feet hit the dais with such force Dixie in her fright lost her balance and tumbled backward, landing on her shoulders on the floor.
"A friend's house? A friend's house?"
From out of nowhere came his long, black braided whip. He laid the heavy leather across her legs. She slid backward in a sitting position to get out of range but he was on his feet, standing with his powerful legs spread apart like a furious overseer and lashed out with his tongue and his whip. She turned so her back was to him and crawled as fast as she could till she could get to her feet, all the time his whip cracking across her back.
"You diseased cunt! Scum bag! Who the fuck cares if you get tired? You stayed out all night with my property. You did wrong! You... were... wrong!! I tell you where you sleep. I tell you when to sleep." His whip was zinging through the air and landing with a loud ear-splitting crack across her back and buttocks. The sting through her jeans and shirt seemed worse than usual because of the material. He had maneuvered her into a corner and she was scratching at the wall but there was no place she could go.
When he drew his massive arm back to lay the whip on her with even greater force, she scurried out of the corner and cowered behind his chair. Like two wrestlers approaching each other, she jockeyed to keep the chair between them and he tried to get enough of her exposed to whip her.
Dixie couldn't understand the extraordinary fury he was displaying. This was out of character. He liked to approach punishment slowly. It was obvious he was just waiting for her to come in so he could dump on her.
Why was he so uptight today?
Dixie didn't realize it, but Raunchy Randy and Johnny were out of sight in his sleeping chamber. Rod was demonstrating his discipline for their benefit.
"Please, Rod, please. I won't do it again. I really was pooped. I might have lost some of the money if I kept traveling. I only did it for you! I was trying to please you, I made a mistake. It won't happen again."
"Pig woman! Slut! Bitch! You're good for nothing. Only one thing you're good for and that's to work for Barry."
This sent a shudder through Dixie. She knew who Barry was, he was the night manager of a flop house hotel on the Bowery. Once to punish a girl Rod had made a deal with Barry to put the girl, one of his followers, in a room there all night. The manager charged the derelicts whatever he could get out of them to fuck her. The dirty men had stunk of cheap booze and unwashed clothing. They got sick on the floor, they got on her with their shoes on, their pants shoved down just far enough to get their cruddy cocks in her. They'd pulled on her tits so they were sore for a week. In several places her skin was cut.
Barry had sent her back in a taxi and Dixie remembered how she had gone down and helped her up in the elevator. She was in bed for three days. It was all the girls could do to give her first aid. They were afraid they'd have to call a doctor. As soon as she was well enough, she left. Dixie didn't want that to happen to her.
When Rod said "work for Barry," all she could think of was leaving too. She worshipped Rod, but she had to think of herself. Her father had been mean, but he'd never sent her to Bowery flop houses.
Rod threw the whip on the chair. Dixie breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Get out of my sight." As she hurried from the room she left her bag behind. Rod opened it and took out the money. He noticed a slip of paper with Johnny's phone number on it. He clenched his teeth. This might mean trouble. She could have told this Johnny on this piece of paper where she lived, he might come calling. She'd stayed out all night.
Anything could have happened. Dixie was attractive. He couldn't allow any blossoming love affair to queer his distribution deal with Johnny and Raunchy Randy.
Realizing this he was scared and furious.
"Stop! Come back here!"
As Dixie turned she saw him holding her bag in one hand and the slip of paper with Johnny's number in the other. She knew instantly she'd made a mistake. In terror she turned and bolted for the door.
Rod dashed after her. Raunchy Randy, watching through the slightly opened bedroom door flung it open as he realized she was making for the elevator. He collided with Rod as they both raced to stop Dixie's flight.
Their bumping into each other threw both men off stride long enough for her to get the door open. The elevator was across the hall and about twenty feet away, the stairs another twenty feet or so farther. She was afraid to wait for the elevator so she planned to run past it to the stairs. As she was approaching the elevator, it opened. From it stepped a well-dressed woman and two men.
"Stop her," cried Rod in a demanding voice!
The woman instantly stepped aside. The big man put out his arm and Dixie landed right in it. He held her tightly.
"No, no, let me go. Please. I didn't do anything."
"You folks arrived just in time," said Rod as he came up and took a handful of Dixie's hair. "Let's get her back inside before one of the garment workers hears her." The big man who'd stopped her picked her up bodily, Rod let go of her hair. Dixie started to scream as the big man with the bald head picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Her back was on his shoulder and her hair hung down in front, her legs in the rear. He firmly clamped one hand over her mouth as he carried her struggling down the hall.
Inside the loft Rod firmly bolted the door. Johnny came out of the bedroom to view the struggling captive woman. She had nice tits, one was exposed almost entirely. The well-dressed woman followed the little entourage. Rod led the way to the Achievement Room. He didn't have to tell the big man where to put her.
Johnny gave a hand strapping her into the festive table. She squirmed and kicked and tried to cry out, but Raunchy Randy had his coarse hand firmly over her mouth and jaw, holding it so tightly closed she couldn't breath. Her ankles were put in the restraints. She was facing up so she could see everything that was being done to her.
"Disobedient cunt! I'll turn her black and blue. She's a cocky little bitch, but I'll take that out of her."
"Rod, who is this girl?"
"Shut up, Karin, or you'll get the same."
Karin, taken aback by his turning on her so sharply, put her Gucci bag down and lit a cigarette. The big man who had helped capture Dixie took off his coat, the exercise had warmed his big body. His companion took in everything with his dark, dark eyes. Dixie got the impression that the man with the black eyes was a foreigner. She felt Rod attaching something to the side of the table. She glanced that way. The cupboard door to his stash of leather and rubber goodies was open.
She couldn't see what he was fastening to the side of the table till he had whatever it was in place. Then he walked behind her head and brought a leather strap from one side of the table to the other. It had a small slit in it. Her neck was already held down by the chained collar. Rod was putting this new strap directly across her mouth. It fit snugly, almost as tight as that man's hand had held her. Dixie had never experienced this device before. Her heart doubled its beat.
Her big eyes watched as Rod went back to the cabinet Everyone in the room was watching him. He took out a small black dildo. It was only about three inches long. It seemed to have snaps on it or a leather base or something. Then she saw what he intended to do with it.
Rod bent over her and began inserting the dildo in the slit in the leather strap over her mouth. Trying to turn her head away was fruitless because of the way the restraints held her head in place. The dildo came through the slit It was pressing against her teeth. She had to open her lips or they'd be so bruised she knew they'd be swollen and she'd be disfigured for a while. The dildo moved steadily deeper into her mouth. She was afraid she couldn't breathe. But as she tried to draw breath in, she became aware that the dildo had a hole through its length, she could suck air through it like through a straw.
"She'll be so busy just trying to breathe she won't give us any more trouble."
"What are you going to do with her?"
"I'll call Barry. He can use her in the flop house near Chinatown. I think she's got a boyfriend." Johnny was annoyed.
"What do you care," he asked, "if she's got a beau or not? You get all the pussy you can handle."
"She was out changing bills. How can we be sure she didn't tell her lover what errand she was on? We've got to separate her from the organization. The Bowery is the safest place. Barry won't let a good pussy get away from him, not so long as she's bringing in as little as a quarter. I've never seen a guy as tight with a buck as he is. Hell keep her in bed for weeks at a time. She'll learn to obey rules down there. Any of you guys want to fuck her before he gets her? She's yours. Use any of the equipment you want." Karin spoke up.
"Since you're sharing your playmates with others I might as well introduce you. Rod Anger, this is Carlo Briaggi and Tommy Cornell, my friends from Rome."
Rod introduced Raunchy Randy and Johnny. He then suggested they have a drink and then whoever wanted to could fuck Dixie. Johnny reached over and felt Dixie's breast. He ripped her shirt open so he could put his hand on her flesh. He squeezed her nipple.
"Pretty good, those Bowery drop-outs will be getting a good deal." He calmly took his hand off her tit and walked away. The group left her alone strapped to the torture table and went into the other room and had cocktails.
Tommy was an enormous man. His smooth skin was hairless. He had impressive eyes and wore a magnificent gold earring in one ear. It was of Arabic design and well made. Rod coveted it.
Carlo was charming. He complimented Rod on his quick action in getting rid of a troublemaker. While they drank he related an anecdote about a film star and his chauffeur and a donkey. Everyone was much amused.
... and every time she's in Italy now she calls up to see if she can visit the farm. I told her we didn't have the donkey any more but had brought over a camel. She asked me if the camel was good for one hump or two." They all laughed heartily. Raunchy Randy excused himself and went into the Achievement Room. He looked at Dixie spread out helplessly on the table. He looked at the gears and the bolts and the restraints. He put his fingers on her crotch. He could feel the heat of her frightened body. He reached into his pocket and took out a jack knife. Dixie's eyes opened wide in panic. He calmly and carefully slit a hole in her jeans and started cutting the material away. He cut the jeans off her body. He cut the bottom of her shirt and took the two edges of her blouse in his powerful fists and ripped the shirt open, sending the buttons flying in all directions.
Dixie was apprehensive but so relieved when he put the knife away without cutting her that she actually relaxed. She could handle a cock, not a knife.
He dropped his pants and let them remain in a pile on the floor as he removed his tie and shirt. He wore boxer shorts which made him look silly standing in his stocking feet.
Raunchy Randy found the pin which held in place the section of the table between her legs. He removed the section. He cranked up the part under her hips so her pussy was high enough to meet comfortably with his cock. Dixie could no longer see his cock but the bulge she'd caught sight of a moment ago indicated to her that he had a fat cock.
His moist fingers played with her pussy lips for a while. She was so frightened her breasts quivered. He liked to see that. Her blood rushed to her vital organs and goose bumps appeared on her skin. He brought his face close to her tits to see the little clutches of flesh which were her goose pimples. He breathed on one tit to see what would happen. She vibrated all over. He held her nipple between his index finger and thumb. Her body was cold.
"Cold, huh? I'll warm you up."
He stood erect and slid off his shirt. He was now naked except for his socks. He wet the head of his cock with his hand. She could feel the heat of his body.
"Now I'm going to fuck you, honey. I want to get a piece of that before those bums on the Bowery get it all diseased and dirty. I'd hate to see scabs on that pretty pussy." Dixie's heart sank. She had never been in such a state. She was physically helpless; she couldn't even call for help. She was beyond panic. All she could think to do was cooperate so he would cause her as little pain as possible.
He drove his cock deep into her cunt. It filled her entirely. Her tender flesh was pushed aside as his blunt fat cock sank into her. He maneuvered his feet to get comfortable.
"I don't usually fuck standing up. You'll excuse me?" He said it as a joke. Dixie realized his whole object was to have fun with her; he wasn't horny. She felt cheated and insulted. At least the guys on the Bowery would be hot, they wouldn't be fucking her out of some sadistic impulse.
He stroked into her a few times. Gradually, it dawned on Dixie that his fucking wasn't brutal. He was actually fucking her decently. His cock was sliding slowly and not abusing her tender inner flesh. He was trying to stimulate her clit. He wanted her to enjoy him. She was thrilled. She tried to smile. Even if she succeeded in smiling he couldn't tell because the black leather strap over her mouth masked her expression.
She wiggled her fingers. She couldn't convey anything with them, however; to Raunchy Randy they looked like she was trying to get free.
Ha, he thought, she's here for good. Poor kid, she'll be turned into a two-bit whore and she's probably not more than twenty. He looked at her tummy; the soft flesh was flat. Age didn't yet show on her. He thought she'd bring a good price at the Plaza or the Hilton. Too bad she's going to go for loose change down on the lower East Side near the missions and the charity kitchens. Of well, some fucker was going to get a good piece.
She'd probably last less than a year. He wanted his while she still had something to offer.
Dixie knew it, too. If what that girl had told her was true, and she thought it was, and what Rod said was true, she'd be a diseased, shapeless, mindless, hunk of flesh in short order. This might be the last fuck she'd be able to enjoy. She couldn't even move decently to fuck properly. The best she could do was wiggle her hips from side to side, she couldn't get them up off the table. The elevated section under her ass gave her no base from which to lift.
Dixie was game. She made the best of the situation. She rotated her hips around his jutting cock.
"Oh, baby, you're terrific. Give papa some more."
Her pussy was beginning to get wet. He smiled. She tried to smile back. He noticed no facial change. She was still a female bound to a black leather table. Raunchy Randy could smell the oiled leather. Her own odor was overpowered by the wholesome smell of leather. It had a masculine aroma to it. He felt like he was inside a copy of Playboy, pressed into the centerfold. He fucked harder.
Throat gurglings came out of Dixie. He was impressed. He placed his callused hands on her round tits. He was surprised that her nipples were hard. Again he was impressed. He thought her tits felt warmer. He bent and kissed them. He sucked on her nipples which seemed to stand up like little mountain tops. The flesh below her dark hard aureoles was soft and tender. He let his fingertips rub across it. He felt her pussy tighten on his cock.
Delighted by what h e to ok to be her willingness, he lay on top of her. He took care to brace himself on his elbows. He put one hand in her soft silky hair. He kissed her on the cheek and arched his hips to sink his cock slowly into her open pussy. Her face was warm. The goose bumps no longer were visible. He rocked his cheek next to hers.
Dixie felt his warmth and was not unaware of his consideration. She thought of Johnny from the night before. He had the same sweet thoughtful-ness about him. He had been so tender, just like this bull of a man who fucked her so gently.
Her clit was swollen and excited. She hoped he'd climax in her. For some selfish reason she wanted his orgasm to coincide with her own. Oh, if only that would happen.
She tried to turn. Rod's leather and chain restraints held her fast. She couldn't give her body to this man as much as she wanted to.
The big muscles of Raunchy Randy's thighs and calves caught the light. His firm round ass glistened in the limited light. He stood erect and his cock extended at right angles to his body. It went directly to her clit and beyond. He put his big hands on her hips. He could feel her rolling them. He moved his ass back and forth.
Her tits jiggled. It was a good sight.
He wished to God they hadn't had to gag her. He would have liked to hear her call out for more cock, to be fucked harder, to be mauled and humped and fucked and banged. He wished he could hear her praying for dick.
With a firm drive of his hips he sank his cock into her pussy all the way. She tightened around it. He pulled out and sank it in again, he could tell the head of his cock was swollen and causing her excitement. He knew because her pussy was getting wetter and wetter. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours her pussy juice was dampening the leather-covered table.
Dixie felt Raunchy Randy's cock sliding faster and faster over her aroused clit. His coronal ridge bent it each time it passed. She was aware of her excited heartbeat. Oh, if only she could close her knees against his body, lock her ankles behind his back, hump up to him, caress him, kiss him.
She did the best she could. He was fucking even faster, that meant he was almost ready to cum. She hadn't been able to give him the fuck she'd like to. With a strength and a determination born of desperation, she strained to move her body to him. Raunchy Randy got, the message..
"Oh, baby, you're one hell of a cunt! I wish I could fuck you forever! Like that! And that! See?
Like-that!!!"
Her orgasm overwhelmed her. Her body shuddered. Her tits wobbled. The dampness on her brow was obvious. He felt the flood of her qui enveloping his cock. It was pulled to the entrance of her cunt each time he stroked backward and it sloshed as he rammed his cock into her. It's heat aroused him even further.
"God damn! Baby!"
His cock was swelling. He could feel his balls tightening up. The perspiration ran down his back and from under his arms. His breathing was labored. His fingers clutched her tighter than ever.
"Ahhhhh!!!!"
His body contracted. The full force of his energy was embodied in his cock as his cum galloped out of his straight shaft and expanded into the warm folds of her pussy.
He shot spurt after spurt after spurt after spurt.
His whole body shuddered with his release. It was a full minute before he exhaled. His gripping fingers went limp. His over-heated cock lost its power. The blood withdrew from his phallus and the exhausted flesh sank to the bottom of her tingling pussy. Gravity called it back to his body. It had done its job.
He wanted to tell her thank you. She wanted to embrace him and clutch him to her panting body. Her restraints and the gag in her mouth prevented her from conveying any of this. All she was able to do was wiggle her toes.
Raunchy Randy slid down her body and dropped to his knees. His face was at her dripping pussy and he licked her love juices as they seeped out of her hair-ringed pussy. Gently, he let his tongue stroke her cunt, licking, loving, lapping at her tight and quivering cunt.
"Raunchy Randy, you finished yet?"
The abrupt intrusion of Johnny's matter-of-fact voice shattered the spell the tenderized girl and her exhausted lover had worked themselves into Raunchy Randy sucked a kiss onto her pussy and rose from the floor.
"Yeah, I'll be right there."
He rose and stuffed his flaccid cock back into his pants and walked away, tucking his shirt into his trousers.
Dixie felt abandoned. Her body was still warm, her cunt still felt the driving force of his erect cock. When would she enjoy a decent cock again? A tear rolled out of her eye and down the side of her cheek. She could hear the voices of Rod's guests from the other room.
CHAPTER NINE
Karin was regaling the assemblage with stories of her ex-husband Randolph and his secretary, a girl named Rhonda. Rod blinked. Rhonda who? When the last name was mentioned Ron did some quick brain-racking. It was the same girl. He told Karin about a girl who used to "hang around." Karin quickly put two and two together as well. She bristled to think that this girl she hated because she was close to her husband had also been to bed with Rod. Karin knew Rod slept with anyone he felt like sleeping with but it rubbed her the wrong way to think that his special degrading pleasures had been available to Rhonda.
She had no control over Randolph now, but by God, if he ever asked for a reduction in alimony, she'd fight it tooth and nail so he wouldn't have as much money to spend on this new girl. She'd never met Rhonda, but she hated her with a passion.
Raunchy Randy was very quiet. He'd gotten his rocks off in the Achievement Room, they all knew, but he could have the good grace to contribute to the conversation or else find a corner to crawl into. Karin was getting impatient. Why couldn't Rod and Tommy and Carlo get into something? They were spending most of the time listening to Carlo tell some of his experiences in a life of jet setting. He was a natural story teller and everyone was fascinated.
Puck him, thought Karin. She sat closer to Tommy. Tommy was busy fiddling with his thumb cuffs and while he didn't out and out ignore her, he was definitely thinking of something other than her body. Shit! She had another cocktail.
Karin's glance fell on Johnny who was burning holes in her with his penetrating stare. She glanced at his crotch. At the angle she was from him she could tell nothing of his equipment. She smiled deliberately. He didn't change expression, merely rose, walked over to her and stood menacingly in front of her. His hand slowly came up and touched her hair. All conversation stopped. Her heart stopped. He stroked her hair gently all the while glaring at her with large saucer eyes.
Rod sensed that the center of attention was no longer fixed on Carlo. It had shifted to the sight of Johnny fondling Karin's hair. Rod had been quietly grinding his teeth. He didn't like anyone but himself to be the center of attraction. This would never do.
"Karin, come with me!" snapped Rod.
The room was hushed again as all the guests waited for the unspoken conflict between the two horny males, Rod and Johnny, to be settled. Karin didn't know what to do. Her heart was already beating fast at the prospect of feeling Johnny's hands on her breasts, on her skin. Rod was her host. She knew Rod's masterful power in sex. She felt a twinge in her cunt. She ached for him. The silence was deafening.
"I said, move your expensive twat over here!"
Carlo and Tommy fell silent, this is what they had come to this loft in the garment district to see; Rod proving his power over Karin. She'd confessed over and over how turned on she was by his whip and his leather outfit with all his muscles bulging out of the body harness. They knew she loved his authoritarian voice. Tommy was absentmindedly playing with his thumb cuffs.
"Tell you what, Rod, I'll take her pussy, you can have her tits."
"You bastards! I'm not some dumb chick just out of school who you can ball and maul and toss back and forth like a Frisbee."
"Shut up, rich bitch!"
Rod barked it out as he cracked his whip in the air. He grabbed Karin by the wrist and dragged her into the Achievement Room. As if on signal all the men followed him into the darkened room.
"C'mon, Rod. You'll make me snag my stockings."
Rod clamped her wrist tightly and pulled her along. Inside the room Karin was taken aback at the sight of Dixie stretched out on the festive board, her ankles and wrists held by heavy leather restraints chained to the table. Her pudenda was higher than her body, the result of Raunchy Randy having cranked up that part of the versatile torture rack.
"Carlo, Johnny, get her off there. Tommy, you strap this cunt on the table. Give him a hand, RR."
As if they were soldiers carrying out the orders of a general, the three men began to move without a word.
Karin cringed. Things were moving too fast for her; only a moment ago they were sipping cocktails and discussing Carlo's camel. She twisted her hand trying to pull away from Rod who she feared would try to show off for these jet setters and the others�_"obviously con men.
All thoughts of the delicious feel of their cocks in her cunt and down her throat, of their big hands on her bare flesh, of their warm breath close to her and the weight of their bodies, all this had vanished. All she saw now was the determination in Rod's cold eyes and the thought of having her clothing torn and mussed and having to go out on the street looking like that.
"Please, Rod, not like this. I haven't got time now." Rod wasn't listening. He was quickly pulling a bundle of leather straps out of his cupboard.
Tommy had stood Dixie on her feet and was dragging her toward a heavy metal ring bolted securely into the wall about six feet above the floor. He held her struggling hand by the wrist. She naturally reached up to scratch at his hand to make him let go. He fastened the thumb cuffs on her left thumb. He simply pressed her free hand against the wall, moved her cuffed hand toward it with the ring between her hands and with his superior strength forced her thumbs together and closed the cuffs on the free one. Securely hound to the ring, she was left struggling until they needed her.
They had fastened the ankle restraints on Karin. Rod was thus free to untangle the straps he had brought out. He stood on the leather table and attached them with naval hardware to the ceiling above the table. The straps ended in leather-wrapped rings.
It was a complicated system which reminded Carlo of the trapeze equipment used by traveling circuses in Europe. At the bottom of the straps, where they all came together, was an even heavier leather cinch, much like the rope ones used on horses' saddles. Carlo couldn't wait to see how they were used.
"Johnny, you're hot for this one; get in the swing and I'll mate you up." As Rod said it he was reaching up for two dangling chains with leather restraints on them. He attached one to each of Karin's wrists. He stepped to the wall and began cranking an antique handle. Carlo's dark eyes followed the chain from the crank up along the wall, over the ceiling and realized they ended in the restraints around Karin's wrists.
"Please don't do this to me, Rod. Not today. Another time, please." Rod ignored her pleas and sang softly to himself,"... now is the hour... " Tommy ran his hands over Dixie's curvaceous ass. Her pink flesh contrasted with the deep tan of his arms.
Without a word he reached up and undid the thumb cuff from one of her hands. My God, she thought, he's going to let me down.
She was wrong. He merely turned her around so she wasn't facing the wall and put her other thumb right back in the cuff. Now she was standing with her back against the wall and her bare breasts pointing into the room. Tommy ran his hands over her neck and down her body, weighing her tits and sinking one finger into her still damp pussy.
"Now you can see what's going on."
Rod was still cranking the heavy chains which were gradually lifting Karin off the table. When she was about a foot above its surface he stopped and secured the handle. With her fingers splayed out she was contorting and twisting as she bellowed, "Rod, you cheap son of a bitch, don't do this to me. After all I've done for you, you rotten no good selfish�_"" The back of Rod's hand slapped her smartly across the mouth. He spied her emerald ring on her hand. He stepped over and calmly worked it off her finger.
"Don't! No! Not my ring. Give it back you stinkin' thief! Cowardly rat! It's mine!" Tommy was busy taking off his clothing. Raunchy Randy stared at him in his nakedness. He was completely hairless. He must have shaved his crotch, Raunchy Randy thought. Tommy stretched his smooth body and patted his solid stomach. Karin was crying out for her foreign friends to help her. Tommy curled up his lip and stared at her. Rod had walked across the room and put something in a large Chinese-looking bowl.
He'd noticed it before; it had a couple of cellophane bags of grass in it and some money. Rod kissed the emerald and put it in the bowl. He came back to the table and asked Johnny to help him take Karin's clothes off.
Johnny was as hot as a pistol and couldn't wait. He began ripping her garments off. By the time they had the whimpering girl nude, her expensive clothes were rags on the floor.
At this treatment Karin's heart sank. She knew damn well she was going to be brutally raped. Rod had never destroyed her wardrobe before. He was like a man possessed. In her fury and terror she had a funny thought; maybe Rod was doing all this to show off for the Europeans. That son of a bitch, he always had to be one up on her. God, he was a chauvinist!
Why then, she tortured herself, why did she get so turned on by the selfish, money-grubbing egomaniac?
She cursed herself for being such a slave to his body and sexual talents.
"Too bad we only have two naked women. If we had a bevy we could make them trot around the room and lasso the one we want right out of the herd and send her back when we were through. Remember Buenos Aires, Carlo?"
"You want to trot them around?" asked Rod. Tommy didn't look at Rod as he answered his question, he kept his finger working up and down Dixie's cunt.
"No, it's a hot day, it'll be less tiring if they stay in one place. This one's got a nice warm cunt, doesn't she?"
Rod was taking more supplies out of the cabinet. He tossed a large pink dildo made of some kind of latex to Tommy.
"Here, if your pecker wears out use this on her." Tommy looked at the dildo. It had a rose painted on it. He smiled. Dixie cringed. Tommy knelt before her and smiled up into her petrified face. He nuzzled the dildo at the opening of her cunt. "Think you'll like this?" Carlo, Karin had told Rod, was loaded with oil holdings. Rod had dollar signs in his eyes as he judiciously smiled at Carlo.
"Would you like to be first to ride the mare?" Carlo didn't quite understand until Rod nodded toward the series of straps hanging above Karin on the table. Rod hopped up on the table. Karin had to bend away so he didn't hit her with his booted feet as he reached up for the straps, turned his back on them, bent his ass and sat across the cinch and demonstrated to Carlo how he should sit in the contraption.
"If you get dizzy, I'll stop it. You sit like this. She'll be impaled right on your cock and when I swing it with this rope you'll sway back and forth and the arc will produce all kinds of sensations as her weight is shifted. You don't have to work your balls off to fuck." He demonstrated by nodding to Raunchy Randy who grabbed hold of the rope Rod had indicated and pulled it. Rod's body was pulled backward and when Raunchy Randy let go he swung as if in a child's swing over the table.
"See how her cunt will move when you move?"
He came down out of the harness and Carlo hastened out of his clothing and climbed naked up onto the table. Karin was familiar with his cock but she was still apprehensive. Carlo's body was smooth and well oiled. He had very dark body hair which was attractively crowded into the center of his chest and creeped out only slightly across his pectoral muscles. He had maintained his waistline and with his Fu Manchu moustache looked like a Mongol lord.
While Johnny and Raunchy Randy fitted the harness to him, Rod was adding a thick body hoist made from the ubiquitous leather to Karin. She had gone limp; it was useless to struggle, she'd only wear herself out.
Dixie, ignoring Tommy's fingering of her cunt, was watching the proceedings at the table with great interest. She'd never seen this "Ride the Mare" harness used before.
One of Rod's greatest strengths was his ability to think up new and perverse ways to have sex. More than one woman put up with his selfishness and egomania just to experience his kinky new tricks. More than one follower had stayed on in the dormitory out of morbid fascination with his limitless imagination.
Carlo asked for tit clamps. Karin shuddered. When Rod handed the aluminum metal clamps attached to each other by a chain, she was so shocked she felt her eyes filling with tears. To her surprise Carlo eagerly closed one clamp on his own nipple and only put one on hers.
"Owwwwwwh!"
"She's not used to them. Why don't you put both on her?"
"I like it, too," was Carlo's simple explanation. He pulled his body away, the chain tightened. There was pressure on both their tits. "Ahhh," said Carlo. "Ouch!!!!!" cried Karin.
Carlo ignored her cry of pain and moved his body closer to her and farther away to tighten the pull of the clamps and chain.
Rod was impressed. He tried to quickly think of some way to give Carlo pain as well. He flushed with pride. This rich man from Europe could be putty in his hands.
Rod hopped back up on the table and snapped his fingers for Raunchy Randy to hand him his whip which was lying on the floor. Raunchy Randy cursed him under his breath but handed him the whip. He looked over the side of the table. There was enough play in the chains attached to Karin for her to be pulled by the rope hanging from the heavy leather girdle around her waist. Rod cracked his whip. Raunchy Randy took Carlo's rope in his hand. Johnny grabbed the one trailing from Karin.
"In unison. Okay, rock 'em."
Raunchy Randy pulled on his rope. Carlo's swing came back. Raunchy Randy let go. Carlo swung through the air and almost touched Karin before his gravity swung him back.
"Hold him."
Raunchy Randy held tightly to the rope and stopped Carlo's swing. "Now you." Johnny pulled on Karin's rope and her body did much the same thing as Carlo's had done.
"Now let him get his cock in her and I'll strap them together." Carlo put his feet down on the table and walked his sitting body till he was next to Karin. She kept her mouth closed as Johnny and Raunchy Randy spread her legs apart. Carlo's smooth black-haired cock slipped in between her labias easily. He was a little astonished to feel her pussy warm and wet.
"You're more turned on than you led us to believe, pigeon. I think you've been keeping secrets."
"When she was at our place in North Africa she used to sneak down to the servant's quarters at night and fuck with Abdul and Mohammed and Sheriff and... " Karin let out a wounded groan. Carlo's eyes lit up. She thought they didn't know about that. She was utterly embarrassed. Tommy and Carlo laughed heartily.
Carlo's cock was securely held in her pink pussy. Rod gave the signal and Raunchy Randy and Johnny, in unison, let the ropes pull the copulating couple back and forth. The swing got larger. Before long their bodies swung in a huge arc, going almost to the ceiling, dipping down to within Inches of the torture table and up again. Karin would be above Carlo to descend like an energetic pendulum and swing the other way so Carlo was on top.
Their bodies were held together by a large leather belt affixed around both their torsos. Karin's hard breasts were pressed against Carlo's tanned skin.
Dixie, pinioned to the wall with her twat being anger fucked by Tommy, was open-mouthed at the swaying couple.
"Stop pulling on the ropes. I can pump. See," Carlo said as they reached the apex of their swing, with himself on top.
He gave his hips a hump and Karin groaned, each time they got to where Carlo was directly over her, he thrusted his hips and kept their swing going. His cock was swollen from sexual excitement as well as the centrifugal effects of their swinging. Karin's head was dizzy. So was Carlo's. It was like taking powdered popper. He loved it!
"Oh, Tommy, we must add equipment like this to our play room." Tommy didn't answer, he was on his knees licking up into Dixie's cunt.
Johnny had gone to the cupboard and found some grease. He'd already dumped his clothes in the corner and now, stark naked, he was rubbing his big cock with the grease. He walked behind Karin and each time her body swung his way, he put some on her asshole.
"Don't do that to me, you."
Karin's admonition went unheeded. After several swings he was able to slide his slippery finger in her ass easily. Then he climbed barefooted onto the table and waited for her to be humped his way. As her wide hips came toward him he positioned himself.
He stood on bent legs bracing himself for the impact of her body. He had one arm behind him bracing himself against the wall, the other on the beam in the wooden ceiling. His cock was hard as hell He stood firm. Her ass swung toward him, Karin crying out, "Don't don't." Her ass was swooping toward his hips. Their flesh made contact. He missed her asshole and the impact of the two swinging bodies coming at him knocked him off the table.
Rod, Tommy and Raunchy Randy burst into laughter. Dixie dared not laugh at first but grinned like hell.
When she heard the men laughing, she lei her belly guffaw go and added higher pitched laughter to the spontaneous hilarity. Johnny was furious.
He wasn't all that proud of his body anyway and having gotten carried away with the sex circus he was furious they would laugh at his failure to fuck Karin's swinging ass.
He reached back with the whip.
"Careful, you'll hit Carlo, too."
He didn't care. He swung. The whistle filled the air and then the leather whip coiled around Karin and part of Carlo with a loud crack!
What surprised them all was Carlo.
"Oh, master, master."
Rod's eyes popped open. It didn't quite register on Dixie. Johnny was stunned. Karin, smarting from the lash, let silent tears fall from her eyes. This man was as evil as Rod!
Raunchy Randy was bent down under the table. He didn't know if Johnny-knew how to control the whip or himself and he didn't want to be the innocent victim of his lashing out. He knew how embarrassed he must be having been clobbered off the table like that. Johnny was thin skinned and took offense easily.
Johnny, to cover up his acute embarrassment, swung furiously with his whip as he flayed recklessly at the swinging couple. The lash mark on Karin's back was bleeding.
Crack! His whip sailed through the air and stung the fornicating couple again.
"Hurt us! Oh, divine devil! Whip us!"
Johnny cracked his whip on their backs over and over again. He reached up and yanked at the chain attached to Carlo's and Karin's tits. One came free and the chain with its gigantic metal clamp swung in the air as Carlo's body rocked heatedly against Karin's.
"Oh, whip-master! Punish us! Dominate us!" Rod felt out of it. He turned to his cupboard. Inhalers appeared. He tossed one to Tommy and held his arm up for Johnny to stop. Raunchy Randy grabbed one of the sailing ropes hanging from Carlo's waist and brought the swinging couple-to a standstill.
Rod put the inhaler first to Carlo's nose and to Karin's second. Tommy was stuffing Dixie's nose and then his own before he passed it to Raunchy Randy. Rod's went to Johnny.
Tommy got on all fours and was sucking at Dixie's dripping pussy while the aromatic vapors of the inhalers filled their heads.
"Um, um, oh, that's great, um, eat me some more."
Raunchy Randy grabbed for the rope again. Johnny stopped him from starting the swing and got back up on the table, this time carefully inserting his cock in Dixie's ass before the swinging started. He was rough because he was mad. Her ass burned with a terrible throbbing sensation. It was along time before her ass felt like there was nothing in it. Then he allowed his cock to flex and the sharp pain returned.
"Please don't hurt me."
"Cunt, I don't give a shit what you feel or don't feel. I wanna piece of that ass." Raunchy Randy began to tug on the rope tentatively. The combined bodies swung. Carlo's hard cock was well embedded in the dripping pussy Karin's bound body kept on him. The swinging caused their genitals to rub each other. The sensation was terrific.
"Ah, you ingenious Americans have come up with something we should have in Rome." Raunchy Randy took this to mean he was pleased and so pulled the rope more, increasing the arc.
"Not too much," cried Johnny. "I don't want my cock to slip out." Karin could feel her ass being stretched and penetrated. Sweat formed on her forehead and she could feel it on her sides as Well.
Raunchy Randy saw Rod coming with his whip and ducked down to get out of range. "Don't hit me," cried Johnny, flinching. Rod was an expert with a whip. He'd realized that Pug and those other fools who followed him around, stole for him, waited on him hand and foot and adored him were only slaves of the whip. He had bound above his torture table one of the wealthiest men in the world, his body grateful for the whipping pleasures he gave so expertly. With pride and arrogance he stretched out the warm whip. Crack! It curled around Carlo's shoulders, missing Karin by a calculated inch.
Carlo squirmed. His cock rubbed the side of Karin's pussy hard. She could feel his body tense under the weight of the leather blow. She also heard his soft pleasurable sigh.
Crack! Another lash mark appeared on Carlo's back.
"Grazie, grazie!
Rod continued to decorate Carlo's back with thin red marks. Occasionally a few appeared on Karin's back as well. She was warming to the rhythm of the lashes and found herself clinging to Carlo to share the ecstasy of the Mss of the whip with Mm. Crack!
Carlo's body tensed but did not relax as Rod's whip fell away. Karin felt something warm in her cunt.
Another surge of warmth and she realized he was cumming in her not because of their fucking, though that had warmed him up, but because of Rod whipping him. He loved it.
Johnny's cock in her ass felt at home now. She'd discovered something new; she loved being fucked in the ass. Wait till she told her black cab driver, John. He was always suggesting she join him in the Teresa Hotel so he could show her off to a few friends who were into anal sex. As soon as these red marks on her back cleared up, she'd bring up the subject. Oh, that hot cum feels good!
Rod saw the drops of white cum sailing out of Karin's overworked cunt and dropping heavily onto the leather surface of his table. He stopped lashing. Raunchy Randy got up off the floor.
Tommy had worked his chin into Dixie's cunt to the rhythm of the lash. When he stopped fucking her with his chin, he put his tongue back into her cunt, licking as if at an ice cream cone.
The action at the festive board had stopped so Raunchy Randy crawled over to Dixie at the wall. Tommy was squatting on his ankles, his hairless ass only a foot from the floor as he strained his bull neck to lick the juicy young girl's pussy.
Overcome with the excitement and the stimulants, Raunchy Randy got down on his back and worked his head between Dixie's feet. He opened his mouth and moved Tommy's moving hand off his prick and took the smooth hot organ into his mouth.
His eyes turned up to see the underside of Tommy's chin and his tongue easing into and out of Dixie's wet pussy. She was splaying her legs to make it easier for Tommy to eat her out.
"Oh, you're good. So good. Eat me!"
A drop of fluid fell from her excited pussy and landed on Raunchy Randy's cheek. He got all hot and excited at the realization that her cunt was dripping onto his face and worked his hustling mouth faster.
Tommy slurped and Raunchy Randy slurped. They competed to see who could suck in the most the fastest with even, steady strokes. Tommy gulped and swallowed what he could. Raunchy Randy stroked the erect organ between his lips. His own excitement kept his body hot. He could hear the satisfied moans coming from the suspended couple above the table.
Johnny was breathing hard. He had hold of Karin's hips and was fucking her ass for all he was worth. The swaying bodies were stilled now and only bobbed from Johnny's thighs hitting against the back of Karin's ass.
"Fuckin' cow, I need your tight ass like this. You beautiful bitch. Take cum up your ass! Pull it in. That's it.
Push your ass out to take more of my cock. Ahhhhhhhh!!!!!" Carlo grabbed Karin's tits in his hands as he heard Johnny's excited breathing as he came. Karin, turned on enough for a harem, murmured softly as she felt his hot cum invade her ass. "Ohhhh."
"Get her down."
It was Rod calling frantically as he unsnapped his cod piece. He was referring to a trembling Dixie, still quivering from her sixth or seventh or maybe twelfth climax. They seemed to have been coming for hours.
Raunchy Randy, his mouth and throat filled with Tommy's cum, scrambled to his feet coughing for breath.
Tommy released Dixie from the ring where he'd secured her with his thumb cuffs.
"Bring her over here. Tie her to the table next to Karin. I want to cum on both of 'em." Raunchy Randy helped Carlo out of the harness and began taking the apparatus down. Johnny, still weak from his own climax, helped the dizzy Karin to he flat on her back. Dixie was handed up onto the table, her head on Karin's feet. Another belt of leather went around her neck and the collar bound both her feet.
Rod sprang onto the table. He again formed the position of the Colossus of Rhodes and straddled the prone women, both their bodies trembling from the fuckings they had received.
The table was ringed by a chorus of men, each with his dick in his hand. Rod had taken off his codpiece.
His cock, long cramped under the tight binding leather, was flexing itself and jutting out to its full fat length.
Karin again teared up in wonder at the size of it. It was as fat as the handle of his whip and seemed to be as strong. A large dark blue vein ran up the underside of it. Its head was large and wide and deeply dimpled by the end opening. His balls hung free in crinkled sacks and his tight thighs made a smooth contrast for them to bang against. He was magnificent. The whip was coiled under one arm and his free hand was circling around his cock.
He stroked his cock. Johnny reached up and put the inhaler to his nose. His body harness seemed the merest ribbon around his powerful chest.
Carlo's big dark eyes drank in the sight. He was excited. Tommy, glad-eyed, twiddled with the thumb cuffs as he awaited what he hoped would be a gigantic climax. He loved to watch cum flow.
The girls' hands were free and Dixie began diddling herself. She was continuing where Tommy had left off. He had not paid sufficient attention to her clit. She set the tip of her finger on her hard little clit and worked it around in a circular motion, groaning softly to herself in happiness..
Karin kept cooing up to Rod who flashed his fist up and down his cock. Raunchy Randy stood at the foot of the table and took a handful of Dixie's hair, wound it around his cock and played with her hair and his cock in the same hand. The silhouette on the wall was remarkable. The big well-formed body of the man towering over the obvious female form.
Johnny was jacking himself off, too. Tommy had moved to Carlo's side and was twisting Carlo's stretched tits between his fingers. Carlo was murmuring almost under his breath, "Oh, oh, oh." Rod reigned over his pleasure table. The women looked at him adoringly, lust for his body in their eyes and in their heavy sighs.
He loved the feel of his hard hot cock in his hand. It flared magnificently at the head. He wondered if there had ever been a better cock in the history of the world; it was so long and so wide and had such a triumphant head on it. His cum was copious and sweet. The veins on his cock were fat and deeply colored. His balls swung with authority. His body glistened with strength and beauty. He was perfection.
"Ohhh! Ohhhh!"
He tightened internal muscles. His hand held still. From the head of his cock shot a comet of hot steaming cum. It arched into the air and like a talented Olympic diver, descended gracefully and with gathering speed onto the smooth skin of the women strapped to the table below him.
"Ahhhh! Let my cum soak into you."
"Rod! Rod," called out a masculine voice.
It was Pug bursting into the room quickly followed by Shirley.
"The building is on fire!!! Rod! Rod!"
Everyone was aware of the interruption but what they were saying didn't register right away. Rod was too dizzy from his own ecstasy; the others focusing their attention on the women panting under the heavy drops of cum.
Quick, alert Carlo realized the meaning of the "fire" cries before the rest. He turned instantly and was putting his pants on.
"Rod! The elevator's blocked. The dress factory on the third floor is blazing. Quick."
"How do we get out?" cried Tommy.
"I'm afraid of the stairs," gasped Shirley, almost in tears, "it's a long way to the street." For the first time Dixie smelled smoke. If they hadn't all been so intent on the inhalers they would have smelled it before.
Johnny was turning to ice as he undid the straps holding Karin on the table.
A loud explosion shook the building. Terror replaced the calmness they were all trying to maintain.
Tommy ran for his shoes. That was all he put on. Carlo and Karin scrambled for clothing. Rod ran to the window behind the heavy black draperies and looked down on the street. His view was obstructed by grey clouds of smoke rolling up the outside of the building.
A piercing shriek dominated everything. They all turned. Dixie was still strapped firmly to the table.
Raunchy Randy, wearing only a tee shirt, rushed to her and talked patiently to her as he worked with almost palsied fingers to release her.
"It's okay, we'll get you out. Hold still! I'll get you out. We have plenty of time. There's lots of time." Dixie ran for the elevator as soon as she was free. Surprisingly, the elevator was there but it was so full of smoke they were afraid to get in it.
"It's blocked. Don't get in."
Shirley ran back up the stairs she had just rushed down.
"The stairs are hot. There's so much smoke you can't see except where you can see flames."
"Oh, God."
"How do we get out?"
They were now gathered in a knot in the Achievement Room. The odor of smoke was stronger and it could even be seen billowing up the stairs. They all felt warm. Carlo held Rod by the shoulders.
"Is there another stairwell?"
"No."
Every heart sank at Rod's words. There was so much dark smoke clouding the hall that Raunchy Randy closed the door to it.
"Are we trapped?"
"Not if we can make the roof."
Rod led the way through his bedroom.
"My emerald!"
Rod yanked Karin by the wrist. "No time for that."
Rod was calmer than the rest. After all, he knew the building pretty well. The rest were relative strangers to the premises. He assumed the fire would be controlled and only smoke damage would be done to his loft. He would come back down when the danger was over, gather up the valuable stuff; the money hidden in his portrait safe, the plates, the powdered popper and the emerald. Everyone would think they'd gone up in smoke.
"You don't have time to go back, Karin."
As if to emphasize his point there was another explosion.
"They have some kind of fuel tanks for the sewing machines downstairs. Let's get to the roof and make it to the next building."
Raunchy Randy had a tee shirt on; Carlo and Tommy had pants and shoes; Carlo, ever a gentleman, had a shirt as well. The two women, Karin with the lash marks showing on her back, and Johnny were naked. Rod was still in his chaps and leather harness and motorcycle boots.
"We've got to take the plates with us!"
Johnny was beside himself, clawing at the portrait of Rod in his magnificence which was increasingly hard to see because the room was filled more than ever with smoke.
Tommy grabbed Johnny under the arms in a full Nelson and lifted him bodily from the big bed.
"Forget it. We've got to get out of here."
Rod led the way up the ladder to the trap door in the roof. It was a women-and-men kind of situation so he let them shove a naked Dixie first up into the wind on top of the burning building. Karin scampered out next and Raunchy Randy followed them.
Suddenly there were hands to help. Several garment workers had rushed to the safety of the roof and already they could hear the choppers whirling overhead dropping firemen on rope ladders who would help the survivors into the helicopters.
Johnny kept screaming for his plates and Tommy bodily thrusted him up through the opening onto the roof. His curses sounded like panic to those workers who ignored the nudity of the new arrivals.
"Not to worry, you're safe now. They're here with the airplanes to take us to safety. Stop screaming, you're okay."
Finally, to keep him from trying to get back into the now burning loft, Tommy slugged Johnny as hard as he could.
Clouds of dank smoke came up the ladder by which they had just exited. Karin realized her emerald ring was not going to be rescued. Her heart sank.
Carlo told Tommy that even if he was injured they should avoid a hospital because there might be reporters there. He knew a doctor they could go to if they needed medical attention. Jetsetters know everybody.
Garment workers, like most New Yorkers in an emergency, were helping the stunned people from Rod's leather loft into smocks and sweaters and any other clothing they could spare. They assumed the people were nervous about their nakedness. Everyone was too concerned about the danger of the situation to wonder why they were naked.
The people were being helped up the ladder to the hovering machines. Rod, with a cheap floral smock over his leather, was trying to pull open the hatch to get back to his apartment. At least he could rescue something.
Kind men tried to restrain him. He lashed out at them with his fist and scurried down the trap door.
None of them saw him again, but Dixie assumed he was cool enough not to risk his life for the stuff in his loft unless he was pretty sure there was a way to get out. He'd lived there a long time. He knew the premises inside and out. Maybe he did get out, she thought.
The TV headlines said one man perished in the fire. As late as two years later, disappointed masochists walked dejectedly up and down in front of the Twenty Fifth Street building site wondering where they'd go for the humiliation they'd gotten from the whip of Rod Anger.
SHE LIVED FOR PAIN The whip whistled through the air and embedded itself in her shoulders. Her eyes were tightly clenched but the tears flowed. She lay on her stomach, spread-eagled, "Please," she begged, "more... more... once more... "
