The pulsating roar of the throbbing motorcycle engine, the monstrous mechanical beast, whose control defies an average man, strikes terror in the hearts of the listeners. Of all man's mechanical masterpieces, the motorcycle embodies his very essence: Man, The Animal. Pure Raw Sexual Man.
The cult of motorcyclists and their individual clubs is the dreaded fear of every small town and every large city in this country. And at the same time, their fearless freedom is the envy of every man as they hurl through towns and cities, wreaking havoc in a cloud of ear-shattering noise and breakneck speed. They are irresistible to young girls with their lusty physical defiance of society, of law, and most important, of death.
Mitchell Latimore and The Stompers Motorcycle Club are not unique. The wild orgiastic parties at their clubhouse--drugs and alcohol and sex flowing freely, partners interchangeable (What else can you do with a woman but fuck?), the inevitable disintegration of the "brothers" in torturous battle with tire chains and studded belts are an undeniable, however appalling, part of our society.
Psychotics? Misfits? Lost Children? Whatever they are, our society created them and they will not be denied. The next time your local newspaper details a gory, torture slaying, by a suspected motorcycle cult, remember that the slain was there by choice and he--or she--understood the laws of the cult...
CHAPTER ONE
Mitchell Latimore was twenty-two, tough, wiry, and the undisputed leader of a weird assortment of vicious bikers who called themselves the Stompers.
Most of his days were spent in the Stompers clubhouse, which is to say, in the garage where many of the members, including Mitch, lived and worked. Their work consisted of stripping three or four motorcycles a month and reassembling them in new combinations. The bikes were simply taken off the streets, adorned with new engine cases, painted, chromed, and chopped.
They were then delivered to a local motorcycle dealer for resale. The dealer provided the bill-of-sale and no one was the wiser.
Cathy, who was Mitch's female counterpart as well as his girl, was a luscious redhead who had more or less complete control over the motorcycle gang's dozen or so names as well as nominal control over the members' individual girlfriends whenever they participated in any of the club's activities.
Mitch saw her walking in the street one hot summer day and immediately approached her. When Cathy coyly accepted his curt invitation to go for a ride, she had no idea that the handsome young motorcyclist was about to change her whole life.
She marvelled at Mitch's cool and confident handling of the monstrously powerful machine as they weaved and twisted through the city streets. The roaring motorcycle's seemingly endless capacity for acceleration and speed amazed and frightened her.
Mitch tooled the machine into a secluded park and turned off the thundering engine. The silence was deafening as he escorted up a path that led into a thickly wooded glade.
He grabbed Cathy by the arm, pulled her down onto the bed of pine-needles, pinning her there with his body. She struggled, trying to scream, but he clamped his mouth tightly over hers, forcing her lips wide with his lips and tongue, sending his probe driving into her soft, warm mouth like a cock driving into a vagina, like his cock was soon going to be driving into her tight little hole. The terrified young girl continued to struggle, but each motion only crashed her body harder against his and she could feel the hardness of his masculinity pressing against her bare thigh through the cloth of his slacks. He was going to rape her! She knew it, could sense it! She had often dreamed of the first time she would do it with a boy, and it had always been dreams of good, tender, gentle lovemaking... not to be ravaged by somebody she liked and trusted who had suddenly gone mad... noooo!
But the young teen-age girl was helpless beneath the powerful arms and body of the lust-crazed Mitchell Latimore. Holding her tiny hands together above her head in one of his own massive hands, the dark-haired youth pulled her T-shirt up with his other hand to expose the taut, bra-encased globes of her budding breasts. Then brutally, he hooked his fingers in the bra between the twin mounds of teen-age loveliness and jerked downward once, twice; finally, the thin material of the bra gave way, ripping free, exposing her breasts completely to his fevered gaze. His eyes feasted on her trembling flesh, and the one hand went up to the small, perfectly round breasts, pinching one tiny coral nipple until it stood firm and erect and then repeating the process with the other. And then his mouth pulled away from hers, swooping down to engulf one breast greedily, paying no attention to her gasping cries of protest and fear... they were too far away from the cabin here, no one could hear her...
Mitch licked voraciously at the chaste, pliant flesh of the teen-age girl's breasts and nipples, his cock near to bursting with desire, demanding to be freed. Cathy's body twisted and jerked beneath his fiery tongue, and he sensed somehow that her motions were not all due to fear, that at least in part his mouth on her naked tits was having some kind of arousing effect on her. Faster and faster his mouth and tongue licked over the trembling young globes, setting them afire with his liquid firebrand. Then his hand dipped down, caught the waistband of her shorts, and began to tug them down, down over her squirming buttocks and thrashing legs. Cathy tried to resist, but her twistings only succeeded in eventually helping the lust-fevered youth drag her shorts and panties down her quivering thighs, over her jackknifing knees and triumphantly off. She was naked now, except for the bunched T-shirt at her throat, and he cried out with desire at the sight of her young, developing teen-age body, the light tawny-colored down of her pubic mound, the tight wet pink slit of her virginal cunt. The sight sent him almost mad with desire, and his fingers crawled over her soft, fleecy pussy hair, dipped between her palpitating thighs, pushing them apart with cruel inexorability so that he could cup and squeeze the pure, hotly wet pubic mound and innocent pussy slit with wild abandon.
"Ooohhhhhhh!" Cathy cried out in fear, flailing her head from side to side as she felt his merciless touch on her secret parts. "Stop it, Mitch... oh God, help me, stop itttttttttt!"
But he held her wildly straining body helplessly pinioned to the bed of pine needles, imprisoning her with his weight like a great stone upon her. Her long silken hair was thrashing almost insanely from side to side beneath him, her lovely young face twisted grotesquely in terror. Her wide-open eyes stared up at the passion-contorted features of the dark-haired boy, and her brain screamed torturedly, helpless, No, no, no, please don't let this happen, I don't want it to happen, not like this! Oh please Mitch, don't do this, don't rape me, don't hurt me, oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
But as if in the telepathic contempt of her mute plea, Mitch began digging at the fastenings on his slacks, dragging them down, pulling his undershorts away from his huge, rock-hard, throbbing cock. Through fear-widened wet eyes, the lovely teen-age girl could see its massive girth, its hard blue-veined head, the wet droplets of seminal lubrication oozing from the glans opening. She tried to scream again, but her throat muscles failed her and she could only thrash insanely, futilely, under the heaving weight of the lust-incited Mitch Latimore.
Suddenly, the dark-haired boy moved over on top of the tortured teen-ager, forcing himself brutally between her slender legs, his hips falling heavily to wedge her tender young thighs into a wide-spread position, securing her jerking buttocks to the spongy ground. The soft down fleece of her pubic hair brushed tantalizingly against his throbbing cockhead, inciting him to unintelligible babblings of frenzied, uncontrollable lust which drowned out her low, tormented cries of fear and anguish. He placed his knees to hold her open to him, grinding his pelvis hard into her defenseless, squirming crotch. He clutched his cock and worked it teasingly up and down until he split the moist, tightly virginal slit of her cunt with his prick's swollen tip. Mercilessly, then, it discovered the snug, undefiled opening to the soft warm passage between her legs, poised there-- --And rammed home!
His long sleek cock slid into her tight, vainly resisting little cunt with a roaring fury, pushing the soft, moist flesh of her vaginal walls in pressured waves before it, deeper and deeper, tearing her hymen like so much tissue paper before its heinous assault. Her naked passage felt as if his plunging weapon had ripped it into a thousand tiny, painful shards, and then his balls slapped harshly off her wet furrowed buttocks and he was filling her completely with no thought of mercy or injury. His shaft lay sunk deep in her belly, like a white-hot pole of living fire rammed into her, and there wasn't one tiny ridge of its flesh the soft, tender walls of her cunt couldn't feel, a thundering weapon enclosed in the moist warm sheath like a lance driven deep, deep into a cowering victim.
Mitch lay unmoving for a moment, peering lustily into her wet, contorted face, his breath thudding into her face like that of a satyr's, mingling with hers, and then, suddenly, she felt a throb from deep inside, the breadth and length of his virile cock jerking up into her another half-inch as he flexed it into her virginal passage. Then he began a slow, rocking motion between her thighs, searing her soft sensitive flesh with waves of pain as his expanded prick widened the tight narrow passage with each short, smooth stroke. Cathy's legs jackknifed out wildly in a crazed effort to escape the barbaric impalement but it only served to worsen her position. Mitch heard the guttural screech of further pain which came tumbling piteously from deep in the subjugated young girl's throat as his rock-hard shaft battered deeper and harder into her warm, yielding flesh.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!" Cathy wailed again and again.
Her hapless cries of pain and fear only drove Mitch on to greater chargings deep into her soft, tight pussy; nothing was on his mind now, nothing except the tremendous load of semen which weighted his heavy balls. The twin blocks of lust slammed against her moist flesh as he withdrew his giant rod and plunged forward again, withdrew and plunged. Faster and faster his pelvis slammed downward against the sweating, defenseless loins of the naked young teen-ager, without giving her womb the opportunity to adjust itself to his cock. There was nothing for him but cumming, cumming...
Cathy's brain was awhirl with skittering thoughts, with pain and now, strangely, perversely, something else. It's inside me, she thought, a man's thing is inside me for the first time, sawing in and out of me and it hurts, ooohhhh it hurtsssss. It's so hot and hard in there, I thought it would kill me when he shoved it in but now it doesn't feel so bad even though it still hurts... it's so hot inside me, oooohhhhhhhh so hot and hard...
Then, all at once, her body, as though it was severed from her futilely resisting mind, began an involuntary reaction to the fierce hammerings of Mitch Latimore's monstrous weapon inside her tight, tender vagina. Her whole being began to twist and writhe beneath him and she groaned incessantly. Mitch's hot, hungry mouth sought hers, closed over it, and she moaned into the moisture of his mouth and then shoved her tongue reflexively, wildly deep into his throat. Faint mewls of animalistic, servile acceptance raised from her young chest in torrents, her face wrung with passion, mouth toiling, neck straining, nostrils flaring as lewd flames of desire began to flash through her, consuming her, causing sweat to burst out all over her thrashing body.
She was liking it!
She was enjoying Mitch's penis inside her!
The revelation that this was truth struck the lovely teen-age girl with the impact of a kick in the stomach. It couldn't be true, it couldn't, and yet it was, undeniably so! Her pussy had adjusted itself to the girth and length filling it, and the pain was gone, and his cockhead resting against her cervix on the instroke was like a firebrand of delicious heat. Her entire body was tingling, and she could feel sensations she'd never known before, sensations that were unmistakably sensual passions that had been stored in this child's body just waiting for release, just waiting for the opportunity to transform her from a little girl into a hedonistic weapon.
Just waiting for a man's cock.
Involuntarily, giving herself up completely now to the wild sensuality taking control of her flesh, Cathy flung her legs wide to give Mitch more access to her throbbing, aching pussy. She no longer was aware of fear or of pain, of any knowledge except the swirling heat which had attacked her body like a raging inferno. Her hands clutched convulsively at his back, nails raking across it, drawing skin with them and raising small welts in her ardor as she sent her tongue screaming hard into Mitch's mouth, their saliva commingling and flowing wetly from the corners of her soft, pink lips. Crazed with passion and arousal now, the lovely young teen-age girl flung and rolled her hips beneath the hot shaft submerged in her young, no longer innocent belly, her pussy walls completely attuned to his pistoning shaft now, accepting everything he could give to her newly-conquered cunt. The twin swollen sacs of his testicles rammed harder and harder against her quivering buttocks as he sought his release.
And as he neared the brink of orgasm, it penetrated to Mitch's passion-saturated brain that Cathy was no longer fighting him, was no longer afraid, that her scratchings on his flesh were done out of desire rather than fear. She was helping him, fucking with him now... son of a bitch if she wasn't liking it! The way her tongue flared into his mouth, the way she'd thrown her legs wide, the way she was twisting her body in the newly-discovered rhythm of a sensual woman first experiencing sexual intercourse... they all told him that she liked him fucking her, liked it, wanted it, wanted him to cum, to cum and fill her up with his hot molten seed...
That was the trigger of the dark-haired youth's crashing climax. His cock began jerking insanely in her soft, elastic pussy as he bucked and heaved above her; great billows of heat swirled through his loins as he emptied his burgeoning balls of his seed, as the molten cum raced along the length of his cock and exploded inside the virginal belly of the squirming young teen-ager beneath him--again and again and again, a never-ceasing flow of liquid fire filling her chaste cunt, despoiling it with its lusting intensity, overflowing it to pool between her legs on the pine needles below.
And Cathy accepted his cum, mewling wildly into his mouth, her legs kicking and jerking in the air in spasming jolts as the hot fire of his cum jarred her womb again and again. Never had anything felt this good! Never had she known such intense feelings! Oh God, was this what doing it was like all the time? Was this the way it was, this crazy wild abandoned feeling? Oooohhhh, so good, so good, now if only she could cum too, experience an orgasm for the very first time in her life even as Mitch was spewing his fire into her belly...
But she was to be denied that experience, denied the release she strove for with every muscle in her young, inexperienced body. Mitch's prick gave one final, jetting spurt of his fiery cum into her pussy and then he collapsed over her, pinning her down. His rapidly deflating cock slipped from the tight sheathing warmth of her no longer innocent cunt with an obscene sucking sound, trailing a thread of semen across her virginal white thigh like the trail of a snail as he rolled off her, still clasping her tightly to him.
"Oh Christ, oh Jesus, Cathy!" Mitch breathed raggedly, covering her sweating face with moist, hot kisses. "That was wonderful, the best I've ever had! Oh Cathy, honey. I'm sorry I was so rough but you were driving me crazy... I had to have you, I just had to!"
Far from being upset, Cathy had responded to his ungentle handling of her lavishly pliant body with unbounded enthusiasm. She enjoyed being forced to accommodate to the uncouth outlaw's every whim. He screwed her twice in rapid succession, sinking his throbbing shaft deep into her succulent snatch and virtually mangling her lithe body with his powerful hands.
Cathy couldn't get enough. She begged him to allow her to suck his soft, spent prick in order to arouse it once again. Mitch made her beg on hands and knees before he let her have it. She managed to cram its entire length into her hungry mouth. Her tongue was like hot fire as it caressed the tip and worked itself down to the very root of Mitch's manhood. She gulped his semen eagerly as Mitch's pulsating prick sought the back of her thirsty throat.
They spent the entire afternoon exploring each other and romping on the old and scratchy army blanket. They enjoyed themselves immensely and without reservation. Cathy had never felt anything like it before. She loved Mitch and didn't want to ever lose him. Mitch, for his part, had never encountered such a willing chick and knew instinctively that he could do anything his little heart might desire with her beautifully supple pink-skinned body.
They'd been together ever since, although Mitch would also take on just about any other broad who struck his fancy and sometimes made Cathy give herself to some friend or cohort or even to some paying john. Cathy accepted it all willingly and without question. She was Mitch's girl and proud of it.
Within a year of his meeting with Cathy, Mitch assumed the leadership of the Stompers. He naturally elevated Cathy to supremacy of the club's female contingent. She responded to this great honor by arranging the biggest and the best orgiastic bash the club members had ever seen.
One of the featured events was Cathy herself, loaded on L.S.D., making mad and passionate love to a righteously chromed "chopper" before the entire audience of assembled outlaws. They went wild. She offered herself to anyone who cared to take her. Four Stompers stepped forward simultaneously.
She managed to take them on by inserting one cock in her cunt, one in her ass, one in her mouth, and one in her hand. She used her remaining hand to maintain her precarious balance as she struggled to please the four men. They spiked and rammed her mercilessly as she fucked and sucked and stroked their rampaging pricks.
Mitch watched impassively as one after another of his comrades took their place in line around Cathy. She'd been fucked at least twenty or twenty-five times, front and rear, when Mitch finally called a halt. He betrayed no element of emotion as Cathy continued to writhe and undulate on the old mattress for several minutes after the last of her ravishers had withdrawn. She was covered from head to toe with sweat and semen.
Mitch pulled her roughly to her feet and propelled her over the greasy floor to the bike she'd been caressing earlier. He forced her naked body over the seat. After removing his two-inch wide garrison belt, he proceeded to whip her mercilessly across her twitching buttocks.
She cried and pleaded with him to stop but he merely intensified his attack. He called out for Janet, one of the club mamas, to come blow him. Janet was a mama who'd been around for a long time. She was fairly pretty, with ash-blond hair, shapely well rounded breasts, and more than ample thighs. Her belly bulged slightly above the small mound of curly hair which covered her puss-lips between her lovely hips.
Janet came forward and immediately dropped to her knees in front of Mitch. She loosed his pants and worked them slowly down over his hips. She cupped his hanging balls in her gentle hands and traced his eight-inch cock with her juicy-moist tongue.
As Janet's mouth sank over Mitch's rock-hard dick, he began stroking Cathy's now beet red ass with renewed vigor. She squirmed and wiggled but made no real effort to escape the stinging bite of the belt as it tore into her cringing flesh. She begged and pleaded with Mitch to spare her but he only flogged her harder and harder as Janet's sultry mouth brought him nearer to orgasm.
While spattering his cum into Janet's eager warm mouth, he smashed his still booted foot into her flabby-soft belly, sending her sprawling onto the cold cement of the greasy garage floor.
CHAPTER TWO
Mitch was enjoying the panorama of exploding sex when his eyes happened to behold a cute little dish that he couldn't recall having seen before. She was preoccupied with fucking Crazy Willie Whitehouse. Willie was known as Crazy because he'd been thrice committed to the State Mental Hospital at Greystone. Crazy Willie knew more about psychology than the psychiatrists and claimed he could fool them every time. He must be right, Mitch reflected, since they always let him out.
Willie was certainly one of the most dangerous of the Stompers and the members had great respect for his fighting prowess. He was truly demented and would kill or maim an opponent without a thought before or a regret afterwards. He was truly vicious and Mitch was a little afraid of him.
The chick he was fucking had long blond hair and was built like a brick shit-house. Her face was buried in Willie's skinny shoulder but Mitch was sure that she had to be beautiful.
Her lush, fully-ripened ass was bobbing like hell as she rode Willie's pig sticker. Her boobs, large and well formed, peeked out at Mitch even though they were partially crushed up against Willie's bare chest. She had her arms locked tightly about Willie's dirty neck as her sweet love-box slid up and down his pulsing prick.
Mitch sauntered over to where the couple were wildly fornicating and remarked casually to Willie on his fine choice of woman. Willie made no reply and seemed not to have heard Mitch. Mitch kicked him in his side and repeated his remark a bit louder.
Willie smiled up at him and said, "You're welcome to her--as soon as I'm finished, you can have her."
Mitch thanked Willie nicely and then.
without warning, he pulled the pretty blond-headed bitch from her perch and threw her to the ground. She and Willie both looked up at Mitch in dumbfounded amazement.
"What'ya do that for?" asked Willie in hurt indignation.
Mitch laughed and called out to Stickman Johnson, the club's finest pool hustler and one of their strongest street fighters, who was just then rambling past the trio in one of his usual alcoholic dazes.
"Whadda'ya want me for, mother fuckers?" he asked the threesome in the standard jargon of the bike riders.
"Dig this bitch, man," said Mitch pointing to the naked blond sprawled on the cold cement floor.
The girl looked from Mitch to Stickman with stark terror in her big blue eyes. Her eyes fled in an effort to find help. There was none forthcoming from any quarter. In desperation she turned them on Crazy Willie.
"Do not be afraid, nor even fret, my pretty little wench. These two uncouth ruffians shall harm you not!" said Willie employing his classiest language to calm the girl and lessen the genera! tension.
Stickman grabbed Willie's thin arm and poor Willie seemed to sail into the air and onto his feet alongside Stickman's giant frame. "What the Hell do you mean by that?" asked Stickman clutching Willie's fragile arm in a vise like grip to insure an answer. Willie countered by stomping on Stickman's somewhat tender toes but since Willie had forgotten that he was bare foot, in fact, totally without clothing, his courageous gesture failed to produce anything even remotely resembling the intended effect.
Stickman roared out in that peculiar laugh of his that always meant that someone was about to be crunched. Willie's eyes looked suddenly sick and his stomach dropped clear down to his naked toes just before the lights went out for him.
Stickman was merciful because Willie was a good friend of his. He merely hit the much smaller man three or four times. He hit him just enough to knock him unconscious and bust his nose. When Stickman finally released his grip Crazy Willie sagged to the floor like a used up rag doll.
Mitch, meanwhile, had dragged the pretty blond onto the mattress and was merrily making love to her as Stickman wandered off only dimly aware of what had actually transpired. Willie, crushed and shattered, was out of it for the duration of the most gala event of the Stompers' social season.
Mitch balled her first in the conventional position but tired of this sport quickly since her already gooey twat was not quite so tight as he had assumed it would be. He had her kneel on all fours and launched himself deeply into her very tight ass hole. He found especial delight in the way her ass-cheeks twitched as he drove his prick in to the very hilt.
There was nothing Mitch liked better than a big ass, and the blond had inflamed his lust beyond all rational bounds.
He pushed the pulsing head of his superheated cock down into the deep, soft crease of her cushiony buttocks, delighted with the way her pliant flesh gave under the pressure. He slid his cock lower, and the texture of her flesh changed subtly, became softer, and he felt the tickle of the first downy wisps of her pubic hair.
Mitch pressed his prick against the tight, wrinkled lips of her asshole now--and she screamed as it dawned on her just what he planned to do.
"No! Not in there--God, you're hurting me!" she sobbed.
"That's what I intend to do, you pig," snarled Mitch, pushing harder and burying the head of his cock in the forbidden passage.
The blond writhed and squirmed beneath him, her lush flesh quivering, and that only increased his pleasure. There was no danger of her getting away, not while he held her as a rider controls a horse--and his other hand was clutching an overflowing handful of the flesh of her big tits, squeezing hard to remind her that he was in charge and that he'd conquered her defenses. "Please--I'll do anything--I'll suck you off, if you want me to--everyone says I'm terribly good at that," she babbled, her voice choked with the unbearable, searing pain his cock was inflicting on her as it squeezed deeper into her behind.
"That's right--you'll suck me off--you'll do everything I'll tell you to," Mitch gritted between clenched teeth as he shoved harder, "and you'll do this, too--and when I get through with you, I'll make you beg for it, because it's nothing compared to what I have in store for you."
The girl sobbed as despair flooded over her.
It was obvious that no man had ever fucked this broad up the ass before, and Mitch had his work cut out for him. As the achingly tight passage stretched the skin of his cock back painfully, tiny beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead.
"Give, bitch! Open it up," growled Mitch, clutching her big tit so tightly that his clutching fingernails drew blood.
She could only moan. She tried desperately to relax, knowing that the agonized tension of her own body was making this so painful, and that it wouldn't hurt nearly as much if she let him do it--but even though she told herself this, doing it was something else again. Her whole soul rebelled at the thought of letting him commit this horrible act on her.
She squealed and cried out that she didn't like to take it that way.
Mitch punched her and told her to shut up. The harsh tone of his voice plus his already demonstrated brutality convinced the girl that discretion was perhaps indeed the better part of valor and so she meekly submitted even though it hurt like hell. She had no real wish to be thrown over the nearest motorcycle and whipped as she was sure she would be if she denied him his sexual satisfaction.
When he withdrew his still erect prick Mitch noticed that the very tip of it was slightly brown. He commanded the frightened girl to lick it clean. This was more than she could bear and she protested.
Mitch answered by smashing her across the face, twisting his hand in her hair, and forcing her head down upon his penis. He beat her pretty rear end with a belt until he felt her hot, moist tongue complying with his request. She licked it clean.
"Now suck it, you rotten whore. Suck it good or I'll bash your fuckin' head in," he ordered the reluctant girl.
Tears came streaming down her face. She made little gurgling noises deep in her throat as she sucked at Mitch's cock. She made Mitch laugh. He laughed uproariously at the pitiful sight the girl presented as she sucked and cried and gurgled all at the same time.
He laughed so hard that his prick went limp in her mouth. Mitch couldn't control the laughter as the shapely blond continued to loll the soft roll of Mitch's dick around and around with her tongue. He fell back on the mattress laughing hysterically with his aching sides and belly heaving convulsively. He finally managed to disengage the terrified girl's sucking mouth from his soft cock, but for the life of him, he couldn't stop laughing.
The blond's eyes were pools of uncomprehending terror. Crazy Willie was bad enough but for Mitch's unexpected outbreak of insanity the girl was totally unprepared. She hadn't really minded his seeming cruelty, for she was honored that the handsome leader of the Stompers had selected her from among all of the other girls present at the party. While she didn't appreciate his forceful buggering of her tender rectum, it hadn't really hurt that much and she had even begun to enjoy it. Her tears were more for what might happen than from anything that had already happened.
When Mitch had started she had become confused about what he wanted her to do. When his prick went soft, she didn't know whether to keep sucking it or what. Now she was scared. She was only fourteen even if she was magnificently proportioned. She wished fervently that she'd never even heard of Willie, Mitch, Stickman, or for that matter, any of the stinking Stompers. She wished she were home.
Mitch, who was finally regaining his shattered composure, regarded the bitch with a baleful eye. His sudden lapse made him feel uneasy inside. He would have to show the little slut that he was still in command. He glanced around checking to see if any of his fellow club members had observed his descent into the shadowy realms of insanity.
Nothing had changed. Willie lay in a heap in the same unnatural position as before. The other Stompers were dancing, balling, drinking, or smoking pot just as before. The bitch was the only one with the exception of Mitch himself who knew. He would have to impress upon her the prudence of keeping her mouth shut and forgetting the entire episode.
Mitch looked down at the sniveling slut who shrank before his hard stare. He took her head between his hands with a gentleness that took her by surprise. She was expecting to be severely beaten. Instead he wiped her forehead with his fingertips, pushing her disheveled hair back from her moon-shaped, sky blue eyes. She couldn't believe Mitch's radical change of behavior.
He seemed so kind and gentle that she could scarcely imagine how he had treated her so roughly just a few short moments ago or that he was actually the leader of such a motley array of animalistic motorcycle riders.
Her heart went out to him. Stella felt that Mitch was trying desperately to reach out to someone to share a part of himself with someone he felt he could trust. She wanted him to trust her.
Mitch had judged her correctly as a pushover for this type of approach. He'd played the game before. Different broads and different circumstances, but the exact same game. "Great Earth Mother, save the poor misguided child." He knew she'd fall for that. He could see it in her eyes. She was a sucker.
Mitch flashed on his very best little boy look. He projected the very soul of innocence as he asked, "How'd you like to come riding with me?"
Stella, who was by this time totally captivated, answered in the affirmative without a second's hesitation. "Oh, that would be nice," she said. She hoped secretly that the ride would lead to a long and fruitful romance. Maybe, just maybe, they might even get married sometime. Mitch told her to go outside and wait while he got the bike out and took care of some business. She said okay and kissed him on the cheek before heading for the side door that led to the street. Mitch glanced about the over-large garage which was still the scene of the wildest orgy he'd ever seen.
Too bad he had to split he thought to himself as he eyed yet another attractive and unfamiliar chick who was making it with two of the newer members. She was on her knees sucking Cat Guts' tremendous penis while Beautiful Bob was Greeking her twitching ass like a mad dog in heat. For an instant Mitch thought Beautiful Bob was almost as pretty as the bitch he was spiking in the rear. With his smooth and practically hairless body, and his long, golden locks of curly hair, he looked like some Viking god.
"Jesus Christ, I'm really cracking up," Mitch said to himself out loud. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and nearly died of fright because it had been so unexpected. It turned out to be Dirty Dewey Culver.
"Want some acid, Mitch?" he asked conspiringly. "It's fukin' good," he added as he pressed a few tabs into Mitch's hand. "It ain't cut. It's just plain pure, and good as hell."
Dirty Dewey was the club's foremost proponent of the glorious benefits of L.S.D. as well as the primary example of how badly it can mess people up.
CHAPTER THREE
Mitch quickly located his own bike and kicked it into sputtering life. The cold engine coughed resentfully as Mitch backed off the spark advance and fiddled with the choke. The engine settled into a purring idle when Mitch found the right combination and he yelled for someone to open the doors.
When the doors were at last swung open, Mitch revved-up his thundering engine into a crescendo of shattering sound that filled the garage. The Harley's twin pipes, trumpeting the energy of the powerful engine, overwhelmed Mitch with a feeling of well being. It was like music to his ears. Mitch spotted Stella waiting patiently at the end of the block. As he approached her he jammed on the foot brake and skidded to a fish-tailing halt directly in front of her. He could see she was impressed.
"Get on!" he told her simply, without looking at her. When she was safely on behind him Mitch roared off in the general direction of New York City.
Mitch and Stella avoided the turnpike and other major highways and took back roads screaming along at the fastest possible speed. His head was beginning to buzz and he realized that the acid was rapidly coming on. Stella clung tightly to him as Mitch leaned the swiftly charging bike hard into a series of torturous curves at high speed.
As Mitch tooled the snaking motorcycle skillfully through the heavy traffic, he was acutely aware of the booming engine laboring jubilantly beneath him. The engine's powerful throbbing made him feel like a king. A prince among lesser men. A knight of the road. Mitch was exalted and exuberant.
He had to stop twice for red lights before he finally reached the Interstate Parkway that winds along the Jersey side of the cliffs above the Hudson River. He wheeled his iron into the second parking area and shut down its galloping engine before it had even stopped rolling.
He became aware of the girl for the first time since leaving the gang. He climbed off the machine and she did the same. They stood for a moment studying one another without speaking. Mitch was conscious of her youthful good looks and sex.
Mitch said nothing but stretched his arm tamely out, encircled her plump but firmly formed waist, and pulled her to him playfully. He pulled her down a tiny path which led away from the parking area and into the woods by the edge of the cliff. He didn't even bother to chain his bike.
They walked silently for about two-hundred yards along the meandering trail. They came upon a bare spot by the edge of the cliff which was fairly secluded from any prying eyes. Mitch scouted the entire area surrounding them for any signs of other people. They were alone.
He returned to the clearing and seized Stella's wrists in his strong hands. The crushing pressure forced the over-matched girl to her knees in front of him. She looked up and beheld nothing but the hard eyes of the unregenerate motorcycle tough. His look frightened her and she wished for the second time that night that she had stayed at home. She ceased her efforts to struggle with him and started to whimper.
"You think I'm insane, don't you?" Mitch asked her. "You think I'm insane and don't know what I'm doing, don't you?" he repeated.
Stella didn't answer. She didn't know how to answer. She wasn't sure what Mitch wanted to hear. She wished that he would let go of her.
Mitch let go of her wrists and began to dance around her chanting, "I'm insane! I'm insane! I'm insane!" and laughing like someone gone berserk. "Insane! Insane! Insane!" he screamed as he jumped around like a hot-footed Indian.
The acid was filtering through his brain and he felt like a burst of sunshine on a cloudy day. The trees and bushes surrounding the clearing took on new and unfathomable dimensions. They seemed to bask in Mitch's own radiant glow as if dependent upon absorbing some life giving energy which he alone could supply.
Mitch felt he was no longer insane. He felt more like God. It was good to be God. God is everything. Everything there is, is God. God is everything, Mitch thought. He turned to Stella and said, "I am everything! Everything there is."
Stella had remained kneeling where Mitch had left her. She didn't know what else to do. She was afraid to move a solitary muscle. She hoped that Mitch would soon calm down and make love to her.
She desperately wanted the feel of his prick in her cunt. She wanted to feel his rough hands on her rosy-pink nipples. She wanted the sensation of his hot tongue inside of her yearning mouth. She wanted him. She loved him.
Stella didn't say anything but placed her hands by his crotch rubbing the half-hard bulge which was concealed within his tight fitting dungarees. Mitch felt a languid yet pulsing surge spreading through his whole body as he felt the slight pressure of Stella's hand caressing him.
"Suck it," he told her.
She fumbled with the buckle of his wide, silver-studded belt with anxious trembling fingers. She got it undone and hurriedly released the top clasp of his pants. She was clumsy in her haste to experience the warmth of his palpitating cock in her mouth.
"Oh, Mitch," she moaned as her nimble fingers worked down the zipper.
Stella could just trace the outline of Mitch's burgeoning prick head against the dark background of his jet black pubic hair as she lowered the elastic at the top of his underwear with panting expectancy. She could scarcely contain herself as she worked his tapered pants down over his rigid knees and began to lick the very tip of Mitch's beautifully erect member.
Her Sodomite mouth slipped over it and her yielding lips sank down to the very root of Mitch's rampaging cock. He grabbed her working head and held it as Stella bobbed it back and forth over his entire length. Mitch's excitement was shared with Stella as she sucked furiously at his throbbing prick and groped passionately at his free hanging balls. Stella pushed his straining balls up against his body so hard that Mitch actually had to squirm to lessen the pressure.
Mitch looked down upon the young blond's pumping head and thought to himself, "I am God! I am God! I am everything and she is nothing!"
She felt the first surge of his creamy come splattering the back of her throat and slid her slobbering mouth back a tiny bit so that she wouldn't choke. Mitch pressed her tight up against him so she would. She didn't. Mitch gave out an immense quantity but she swallowed it all greedily. Mitch's body relaxed as she licked the last remnants of semen from the dripping tip of his penis. He looked down upon Stella and smiled.
"How proud he looks," she thought as she looked up into Mitch's face and wiped the last remaining traces of his juice from the moist corners of her mouth. Mitch was still standing before her with his legs slightly spread and firmly planted on the leafy ground. His limp dick hung just a fraction above her adoring face.
"You're a good little cock-sucker, but otherwise you're nothing at all," he said to the kneeling girl. "You're nothing! Nothing at all!" he told her with a dispassionate tone of voice. "Say it," he ordered her. "Say 'I'm nothing and you are God.'."
Stella was scared again. "You're crazy," she said.
Mitch's right hand exploded across her face and sent her sprawling across the dirt.
"Admit it, you filthy slut, admit it now or I'll kill you!" Mitch screamed at her in a towering rage. "Say I'm God and you're nothing! Get down and worship me or I'll kill you here and now. I mean it. I ain't bullshitting."
Stella started to speak but Mitch interrupted her before she could say anything.
"Crawl to me, you bitch. Crawl to me and kiss my feet!"
Stella knew he meant it by the tone of his voice. She flopped over onto her knees and crawled across the dirt and leaves. She was down on all fours and the little twigs and rocks cut into her knees and the palms of her hands as she crawled forward. She stooped down in front of Mitch and began to lick his feet. She was holding his ankles and crying as she said what he wanted to hear.
"You are God!" she said. "You are God and I am nothing. I worship you!"
Mitch's eyes took in the gratifying sight of the groveling girl at his feet and he knew that what she said was true even if he had had to force her to say it. He felt the acid coursing through his system and he felt the power of being God. He hoped the magnificent feeling would last forever.
'Take off your clothes!" he commanded the sniveling girl.
Stella stood up and began to strip. She pulled her sweater over her blond, tussled hair revealing her well formed breasts in all of their undraped and free hanging glory. She wore no bra and the unbridled beauty of her stunning twin orbs filled Mitch with lust.
The lush blond shimmied out of her contoured slacks while her back was turned towards Mitch's dilated eyes, showing him the crescent cleavage of her derriere in lurid detail as she bent over to pull the tight pants over her feet. The temptation was too much for Mitch to withstand and he planted his foot on her warm ass and sent her reeling awkwardly to the cold, hard ground.
Mitch's brutal kick had caught the unsuspecting Stella by surprise and had not allowed her to get her hands up in time to break the fall. She landed squarely on her unprotected face on the rough ground.
A sharp cry escaped her throat as she lay in terror of what he might do next. She realized belatedly that Mitch was indeed insane. He was nutty as a fruitcake and she was hopelessly alone out in the shadowy woods with him. She knew she was utterly defenseless. Stella decided to play along with him in the hopes that he would eventually return to normal and take her home.
Mitch, meanwhile, was drinking in her luscious, naked body. He knew she'd do whatever he wanted. "Stand up!" he ordered, "Come over here!" He noticed the way her titties bounced as she approached him in the moonlight.
"Pull the belt out of my pants and hand it to me!" he said. Stella did as he directed. He took her roughly by the arm and led her to a nearby tree. "Stick out your hands and put 'em around the tree!"
The tree was not overly thick and when Mitch had tied her securely with the belt Stella's body was still a few inches from the rough bark of the tree trunk. Mitch disappeared into the surrounding woods leaving the hapless girl to speculate as to what might lie in store for her.
He returned after a few moments armed with switches and sticks of varying diameters and stiffnesses. He took painstaking care to show these instruments to the petrified girl and explained in vivid detail how each one could be best applied. Stella begged him to let her go and threatened to scream if he didn't.
Mitch stuffed the girl's own undies into her mouth so that she couldn't cry out. Stella struggled vainly against the binding belt and tears were streaming from her eyes. Her muffled sobs could be heard in spite of the frilly panties Mitch had crammed into her mouth.
Mitch's prick was rock hard and felt three times its normal size. He could still feel the acid pounding through his veins, but decided to drop another tab for insurance before he got down to the happy business of avenging himself on Stella's body. He almost couldn't wait to begin.
Mitch walked over to his crumpled pants and rummaged around until his groping fingers contacted the tiny tabs of mind expanding chemicals. He swallowed the pill and returned his attention to the girl. Stella watched his every movement with horror-filled fascination.
Stroking his erect prick Mitch picked up a thin switch from among the half-dozen or so he'd collected earlier.
"You're gonna dig the shit out'a this," he told the squirming girl. He walked slowly around the bound and gagged girl until he was positioned at her soft looking ass.
Still masturbating lightly he took the switch and applied it ever so gently to Stella's ripe buttocks. He slowly accelerated the tempo stroking her twitching behind harder and harder until she was jumping and dancing around trying desperately to avoid the stinging switch as she fought against the leather tether which held her strapped to the tree. Mitch stopped pulling his own prick and reached down and picked up a stick. He rammed it up and into her ass hole. Stella leapt right up into the air, scraping her pussy terribly on the scaly bark of the tree.
She tried to plead with him to let her go but the gag prevented even her loudest screams of agony from being heard more than a few yards distant. She was in panic as Mitch twisted the three-inch thick stick deeper and deeper into her inflamed anus. Searing pain flashed through bowels and intestines as she was forced to accommodate the branch. It plunged deep inside her. She screamed and screamed into her gag.
Mitch worked the stick with increasing gusto as he neared climax. Mitch gloated at the sight of the bleating girl as her body contorted in spasms of intense pain.
Just before reaching his climax, Mitch pulled the stick and penetrated the unfortunate girl's bleeding asshole all the way up to his straining balls. Stella could feel the warm liquid being discharged into her in spite of the intense pain. She felt it overflow and begin to spill. She felt the hot sperm trickling out and running down her thighs.
She was thankful it was over. Although she was still suffering immensely from the whipping and the rough handling of her bung-hole, she was happy that she'd been able to give Mitch a climax. Her own unhandled pussy had been disgorging girl-goo simultaneously with Mitch's thrusting attack and climax. She decided that it hadn't been all bad after all.
Mitch withdrew and walked around to face Stella. He was smiling as he said, "You liked that, didn't you? You'd like to do it again, wouldn't you?. You stupid bitch. I can do whatever I want with you. Yeah, I can do whatever I want with you and you'll eat it up, won't ya?" He turned and sat down on a rock a few feet from where she was tied and gagged.
Stella hung her head and didn't look at him. She couldn't, for she knew he was right.
She would let him do it all over again if he wanted. She'd do anything for him. She'd fuck, suck, kiss his ass or take beatings from him. She loved him. Her ass was covered with welts and burned like fire. Her ripped ass hole would be sore for weeks and yet she still wanted him. She wanted him now more than ever. She cried quietly as she knelt and hugged the base of the tree.
Mitch sat there for a long while watching her. The second tab of acid was coming on in giant waves which were giving him headaches such as he'd never experienced before.
Mitch stalked up behind her and inserted the bottom part of his hand into her cunt and his thumb into her burning rectum. As she tried to pull away, she succeeded only in smashing her belly hard up against the tree trunk.
Rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, Mitch was sending thrills of erotic pleasure throughout her tingling body. From deep within her innermost recesses the rubbing pressure of Mitch's fingers brought messages of rapturous delights through her body. She couldn't control herself. She struggled instinctively for a freedom that she knew was hopelessly beyond her reach. The belt binding her wrists cut painfully deeper as she tried to escape the inescapable.
Stella couldn't bring herself to believe that all this was actually happening. Her knees began to buckle under her as Mitch massaged her tenderest parts, transmitting waves of passion through her. She could never escape herself.
Mitch sensed what was happening and removed his hand. Stella's ravenous body sagged as if Mitch had pulled a plug that was her only source of current. He took the dirty gag from her mouth and told her to kneel.
"I'm going to piss in your mouth. Open it wide or I'll bust your stupid teeth down your mother fuckin' throat."
She looked up at him from her kneeling position and obediently opened her mouth. Mitch stood over her waiting patiently for the piss to come.
It splashed over her teeth and into her mouth and nose. She had trouble swallowing the liquid which Mitch supplied in a huge quantity and she almost vomited before she managed to get it all down.
"Please Mitch, let me go. I've done what you wanted. Please, oh please. Can't you let me go?" she pleaded with him as soon as her throat was clear again.
Without saying a word, Mitch released the binding belt and freed the wretched girl. "Oh thank you, thank you," Stella wailed as she crumpled in a heap at his feet.
"How'd you like to fuck?" Mitch asked her casually, as if nothing had happened. Rolling over onto her back, Stella stretched her arms out towards him. She wanted him. She wanted him to fuck the shit out of her. She was hot. Mitch searched around until he located the very same stick he'd used earlier on her ass hole. "Use this on yourself until I'm ready," he commanded.
Stella reached for the stick eagerly and without hesitation. She knew that Mitch was using her but she didn't care. She took the stick and inserted it quickly into her love box with one hand while she gently massaged her heaving tits with the other.
Mitch made no move towards her but watched as Stella thrashed about on the dirt and leaves as if she were rollicking with a lover.
"Get on your knees!" he ordered, and Stella quickly turned over onto her knees. As she crouched she worked the stick vigorously plunging it in and out of her cunt with ever increasing rapidity. Mitch took up a switch and slapped it across her gyrating ass.
Stella moaned and her ass-cheeks twitched as the switch bit into her flesh but she made no other protest. Mitch beat her harder and harder as Stella worked the stick shoving it deeper and deeper into her moist twat. Beside herself with passion she hardly felt the stinging switch and wanted only the feel of a real prick inside her lusting pussy.
Mitch stopped whipping and ordered her to turn over. Stella flopped eagerly onto her back still working the stick. Removing her hand from the stick, Mitch watched the girl as she writhed and twisted in the height of her passion. She was a pathetic sight as she lay quivering and moaning with the impaling stick protruding from her love-hole. Her sensuous lips were parted slightly and her mouth was watering as she awaited him.
The acid was in full force as Mitch finally lay down atop her panting body. He teased her callously by moving the stick gently and lightly when he knew that what she wanted was to be torn apart by it. He reamed her once with a savage plunge and then removed the stick. He pushed it into her mouth.
Mitch teased the deliriously ravenous girl by brushing the head of his bulging prick softly up against her fiery cunt. He didn't put it in until his own arousal got the better of him and then he plunged his throbbing prick in up to the very hilt.
As the cock sank deep into her, Stella was besides herself with passion. A feeling of oneness flooded over her. Mitch's powerful soul overwhelmed and submerged her. The stick she'd been sucking dropped unnoticed to the ground as she turned her head to the side moaning.
Stella wasn't sure whether or not Mitch would like to kiss her. Not thinking that he would after all that had happened she buried her face in his chest and nibbled at his nipple. She fastened her mouth and tongue around it as if she were a weaning baby. She wrapped her legs around his back as he fucked her. She met his downward thrusts by straining her body upward to meet him.
Mitch was moving rapidly, trying to hurtle his fire-brand up into her innermost parts. He wanted to rupture the guts of the dirty bitch! This filthy whore who was, by her own admission, nothing; nothing at all! His hands about her throat, he began to squeeze.
Stella was reacting wildly, trying desperately with all of her strength to twist Mitch from his perch. Her arms flailed about in a last unreasoned attempt to free herself from him. Her stiffening body was contorting into strange and unnatural positions as she tried to separate herself from the maniac who was crushing her very life out She had a massive orgasm.
After he'd spent himself into her quivering snatch, Mitch stood and brushed the sweat from his forehead. "Come on, get up and I'll take you home," he said. The blond didn't move. Her head was lying at a strange angle to the rest of her sprawled body. "Get up, you dumb whore!" Mitch repeated, irritated by her lack of response.
He kicked her with his unshod foot but she still didn't stir. "Get up, get up, you mother fucker, or I'll really kick the shit out of you!" Mitch screamed, his anger mounting.
Stella's face was turned away from Mitch and she continued to lay stock still. Not a muscle moved as Mitch grabbed the girl by the hair and yanked her head around so he could smash her face. He recoiled in horror. Inside her frozen face, her eyes were bulging from their sockets unseeing and wide open. Stella was dead. She'd made good her escape in the only way she could. She died.
Swirling confusion beset Mitch from every crevice of his reeling, dope crazed mind. "What should I do? What should I do? The rotten bitch. The dirty, stinkin' rotten, lousy bitch. What'd she have to go and do that for? The dirty bitch!" was all Mitch could think of. Over and over the same thoughts tumbled through his brain.
Mitch finally decided that he should try to get rid of the body. Since he didn't have a shovel he figured he would just cover her over with some leaves or something. Dragging the naked body off into some bushes he covered her as best he could with whatever was lying near to hand.
When he was finished, he dressed quickly and began to make his way back to the spot where he'd left the bike. "How many centuries ago was that?" he wondered as he staggered towards the parking area. He heard voices off to his right whispering in the darkness.
"Damn! Damn! I can't let them see me!" Mitch thought silently to himself. Like a streak of lightning, Mitch flashed that people might decide to play their games in the bushes where he'd stashed Stella's cold and lifeless body. He decided to move it.
But where? Where do you stash a dead whore's body in a place as full of people as this one? He asked himself over and over as he uncovered the body and wondered why. What was he going to do with it?
He dragged Stella's body to the edge of the cliff and not knowing what else to do unceremoniously threw her off into the yawning void. Mitch listened intently but did not hear her land. After waiting a few minutes he buried her clothing as best he could and hurriedly returned to the parking area. As far as he knew he hadn't been seen but Mitch knew that his bike with its long, lean lines and shining chrome was sure to be noticed and remembered by anybody who happened to be passing by.
"Well, it's too late now!" he thought as he tromped down on the kick starter and sent the gleaming stroker into coughing, spitting life.
The engine was cold and a shiver went all through Mitch's perspiring body as he worked the choke to regulate the flow of gasoline into the starving beast idling roughly beneath him. As the engine settled down Mitch cranked the throttle open and flew out onto the deserted highway. He began to laugh softly to himself as the wind caught in his hair and lifted his spirits.
Although the acid was still with him, Mitch felt clean and fresh as he piloted his machine down the empty parkway zig-zagging erratically from lane to lane with sudden bursts of exuberant speed. He began to laugh harder, harder and harder until it was all he could do just to stay on the bike and keep it on the road. He let the motorcycle have its head and took off into the clouds. Mitch was flat out in fourth gear as the sun peeked over the tree lined horizon. He felt reborn and free.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Where'ya been, Mitch?" It was Dan, the club's vice president, speaking in a soft voice which was strangely incongruous to his grubby appearance.
"Out riding," answered Mitch curtly not really wishing to engage in conversation.
"Man, ya missed quite a party," Dan said excitedly. "After ya left, things got really hot. We hadda take a bunch of people to the hospital. The bash broke out over some stupid hot-dog rider's broad be'n raped. What a riot it was. Crazy Willie got his nose busted all over his dumb lookin' face and Tonto caught a piece of chain in his eyes from some dirty mother fucker who was help'n the hot-dogger. We fixed them mother fuckers good though. They're just barely alive and their broads were turned out. One of 'em is still here. Poor fuckin' Tonto never knew what hit him. He wasn't even in the action. He was really stoned and didn't know what was goin' down until the other jerk hit 'em. We took him and Willie to the hospital but Tonto couldn't see nutt'in and the doctor said he was in bad shape. He might be blind."
Mitch gave Dan a cold look and turned towards the street without uttering a single word. As Dan gaped after him Mitch walked through the double doors and across the street to the dilapidated diner that served the Stompers as a feeding place and hang out.
Mitch owed Tonto a lot. When he'd first met Tonto Mitch had been a mere prospect for membership in the Stompers. It had been Tonto who'd sponsored Mitch's induction into their midst as a full fledged member and it was Tonto who'd taught him the rules and regulations of an outlaw motorcyclist's mode of life.
When he'd first met him, they'd both taken an immediate dislike for one another. After two or three brutal fights they had become the best of friends. Tonto even invited Mitch to come live with him. Tonto was shacking up with three lesbians who welcomed Mitch enthusiastically.
Patti, the butch chick of the threesome, was a knockout redhead who was also a supreme sadist and an abandoned exhibitionist. Patti had one of the other broads, a fat, juicy blond whose name was Joyce, parade around the apartment in a sort of bottomless mini-maid's uniform. Patti had trained the blond to be her personal slave but was fond of giving her to other people, male or female, for an evening's entertainment.
Alisha, the third member of the odd ball trio, was an unabashed bisexual nymphomaniac who didn't seem to care how she was used or treated. During Mitch's stay, he'd never been able to figure whether Alisha preferred making it with men or women. Her devotion to Patti was obvious and Alisha would often participate in sexual games that she didn't like just to please her. Patti didn't whip her nearly as often as she whipped Joyce.
Joyce's constantly exposed, meaty buttocks were covered with long, thin red marks from the time of Mitch's first arrival until the time he had forced Patti to blow him and cut his stay in the beautiful six room flat. It seemed as if Joyce was whipped almost every night. People that Mitch had never even seen before would appear at the apartment at night just to whip her.
Patti and Alisha both had well paying jobs while Joyce stayed at home to do the housework. Tonto and Mitch both took delight in the way Joyce moved around the house half naked performing her chores. Patti had given Joyce strict commands that the boys were honored guests and should be given everything they desired. They desired quite a bit.
Joyce always attended them in the bathroom and always licked the last few drops off their dripping cocks after they pissed or wiped their asses, sometimes with her tongue, after they shit. Mitch and Tonto would get a blow job almost every time they went to the bathroom. Whenever they took one of their extremely infrequent baths or showers Joyce was there to towel them dry. Joyce served them humbly and happily.
Being by nature generous, Mitch and Tonto would often have some of their fellow Stompers up for fun and games with Joyce. She once was forced to give nine blow jobs in a row while masturbating with the bathroom plunger and being whipped mercilessly across her blubbery, upturned rear. Mitch had to admit that Joyce was a good slave as slaves went, loyal, obedient, and more than willing. After a beating or a few strokes of the whip she'd do anything.
Whenever Patti would enter the apartment Joyce would fall to her fat knees with her head bowed waiting for Patti to acknowledge her existence. Now and then Patti would leave Joyce in this position for a whole evening until she needed her for some domestic or sexual function. Often she would lead the docile girl into the master bedroom, which was fitted out with some very clever devices, for a round of torture as soon as Patti came through the door.
Many times, Joyce was so badly mauled that she couldn't perform her duties that night or the following day. Before Patti had mastered the finer points of sadistic torture Joyce had had to be sent to the hospital on a fairly regular basis. The doctors were always suspicious about the causes of her injuries but Joyce would be adamant in her outrageous lies as to how her injuries were inflicted.
In the three months that Mitch lived with them, Joyce had to go to the hospital only once and that was to remove a quantity of sliced peaches which had become lodged in her vagina. The peaches defied all of their ingenious efforts to remove them at home and Joyce was finally trundled off to the hospital. Patti enjoyed it immensely when Joyce related the hospital staff's reactions and made Joyce repeat the story for weeks whenever she had company.
Patti was also fond of putting on shows and throwing orgastic parties. The huge master bedroom was always a focal point at these affairs. Although off limits to Mitch and Tonto during Patti's absences they'd both been inside many times. The first time he'd seen the inside of the room Mitch had been reminded of a movie he'd once seen in one of those Forty-Second Street movie theaters.
The movie had been about Medieval times with knights and castles and naked girls being tortured by half naked men with hoods over their heads. All of the castles had torture chambers where horrible things were done to the prisoners, mostly female.
Patti's bedroom had been carefully constructed to resemble one of the bad king's torture chambers. The walls were covered with slimy looking bricks which everyone knew were plastic but which appeared very authentic. There were chains and iron loops hanging at various points around the room and some sort of weird looking table with ropes at either end. The room was very large, the biggest room in the flat, even bigger than the more than ample living room and was kept very dark. Mitch wasn't sure to this day if it had windows or not.
Somehow the room always felt damp, and clammy. The atmosphere was truly oppressive, stifling even to Mitch and Tonto. Perhaps the most outstanding attribute of the dank room was the oversize, four-poster bed which dominated the entire scene. The massive wooden posts had chains attached to them which led to what could only be thought of as wrist and ankle cuffs. The chains were very thick and strong.
Suspended from the ceiling, directly above the ornate bed, were more of the same kinds of chains along with several ropes. Some of the ropes were attached to large pulleys and dangled menacingly in the gloomy room. The only lighting was provided by a few electric torches affixed to elaborately adorned holders set on the gruesome walls and a few large black candles arranged strategically about the morbid chamber. No one actually slept in the eerie room except Joyce who sometimes was locked in as punishment. Mitch had been there less than a week when Patti threw the first of a long series of parties, if they could be called that. Mitch had no idea of what to expect other than what Tonto had told him, "Patti's gigs are really weird, man, like far out, mother fuckin' weird." But as the guests arrived Mitch knew that it would be interesting if nothing else.
The guests, mostly female, ranged from teenagers to people pushing the far side of middle age. A milling group of five were the first guests to arrive, four broads and a gigantic black man who had a shaved head that seemed to have an ominous gleam as it reflected the overhead lights. He had small pig's eyes and a totally repulsive appearance. Patti ushered them into the bedroom closet to the room of the devilish devices and shut the door.
Another group followed close on the heels of the first and disappeared into the same bedroom. This group, Mitch noticed with satisfaction, was younger and at least two of the girls were exceedingly beautiful. People were arriving now every few moments and all were vanishing into one or the other of the two bedrooms. The master bedroom remained unoccupied except for Joyce who was apparently preparing it for something. Mitch kept asking Tonto what was happening but Tonto merely evaded Mitch's queries.
"Come join the party," Patti's jocular voice called out from the hallway separating the bedrooms. "Everyone's here now who's coming!" she added as an afterthought.
Mitch waited until Tonto had laboriously risen before he attempted to stand. When Mitch finally struggled to his feet, a tremendous rush from the wine and pot nearly caused him to fall back upon the overstuffed couch. Tonto stretched out a helping hand to steady him but Mitch shrugged it off.
"I'm okay," he told Tonto. "Let's go!"
Tonto led the way down the short hall to one of the bedrooms and flung open the door. Mitch's eyeballs nearly leaped from their sockets. Everyone in the room was stark naked.
Everyone was stripped and there were a minimum of twenty people standing around in small cliques, talking quietly. As his wandering eyes traversed the crowded room, they suddenly were filled with a stunningly beautiful Negress who towered magnificently above all of the other females in the room.
She was at least six foot tall with a tawny, dusky, and well endowed body which she carried haughtily as she glided gracefully from group to group, overshadowing each one with her beauty. She looked like a Greek statue with her iridescent black skin reflecting the shimmering torchlight. A tiny patch of jet black hair curled enticingly about her lovely pussy in a small mound of love. Mitch's eyes had become riveted to the dark beauty and he'd just made up his mind to approach her when Patti's voice interrupted him.
Mitch allowed his mind to linger for a few minutes more on the rapturous delights of the tantalizing, Amazon spade chick before he turned to face Patti. Her words sounded strangely muffled as she clapped her hands and called for the attention of the guests. As she waited patiently for the guests to come to order, Mitch speculated as to what it might be like to partake of the delectable fruits which the black beauty so obviously had to offer.
He wanted very badly to cop some of her more than luscious nookie.
As more and more guests became aware of Patti's intention to speak an expectant hush fell self-consciously over the assembly as they waited for their high priestess to speak.
"Now you all know why you were invited here," Patti told them, "so what do you say, shall we get it on?"
Nobody stirred and Mitch wondered what, exactly, was supposed to happen.
"Don't worry about noise, this room is sound-proof and the neighbors can't hear a thing," added Patti as if bewildered by her guests' lack of activity.
A loud slap was the next sound that Mitch heard, followed by a girl's whining, pleading voice. "Please don't do that. Oh, please don't do that. I'll do anything, anything you say, but please don't tie me up there."
Mitch stood on tip toes in order to see what was happening but his view was blocked by a ring of people surrounding the bed. He heard a loud scream.
Suddenly, he saw a very lovely girl being hoisted up into the air by her wrists which had been securely fastened to two of the ropes which were attached to pulleys affixed to the ceiling directly above the bed. The thick ropes swayed and twisted violently as the victim struggled like a fear crazed animal to free herself from the cutting fetters as they hauled her painfully upward. Mitch couldn't see who was working the ropes as the girl's body was jerked ever higher over the heads of the jeering onlookers in small and excruciating stages.
Tonto, still standing next to Mitch, poked him playfully in the ribs with a mischievous grin and beckoned for Mitch to follow him as he meandered around the room. Several of the girls were now hung by the various chains, ropes, and iron rings which were scattered profusely and conveniently about the chamber. Screams of pain filled the air as imprisoned females were whipped and abused. Many girls were being forced to submit to such great sex acts that Mitch and Tonto knew that they could do anything within the scope of their imaginations and get away with it.
As they neared the center of the room Mitch noticed that the feet of the girl who'd been left dangling on the ropes didn't touch the velvety black bedspread which covered the surface of the bed. Her feet were a good four or five inches above the bedclothes. Her pretty face had a glazed, dreamy appearance that Mitch could just barely make out in the translucent semi-darkness of the room.
The brawny bald headed black, who'd made such a deep impression on Mitch when he had first arrived at the apartment, had his immense black hand thrust volcanically up into the hanging girl's distended pussy. With his free hand, the giant spade was spanking her across her creamy-white bottom with a leather riding whip, raising long thin strips of crimson red wherever it made contact with the flinching flesh of her voluptuous asscheeks.
CHAPTER FIVE
Tonto was fondling the ripe, full breasts of a girl who was pinioned in one of the iron neck rings which lined the walls. She was big-boned and her face was oval with thick, red lips that were slightly parted. Her tongue would flick sensuously between them whenever Tonto would squeeze her rosy-pink nipples between his rough fingers. In addition to the neck ring, her chubby arms were captured in another ring which protruded about two and a half feet above her head. Long, swirling blond hair ran down to the small of her back and a few strayed strands curled delectably about her heaving breasts.
With her head slightly inclined, the obliging blond watched Tonto's fingers as they massaged her taut nipples. Her body swayed rhythmically as Tonto teased her cunt-lips by brushing up against her soft and yielding hips with the very tip of his jutting prick.
The big blond was moaning softly as Tonto, still massaging her breasts, rammed his spear into her juicy cunt. He had her plump ass pinned to the wall as he shoved up against her rounded tummy with ever increasing determination. He meant to pierce her innermost recesses with his blunt blade. She tried to push herself up to meet him but her knees began to buckle and she would have slid to the floor if it hadn't been for the rings which held her painfully and securely in place. Mitch could hear the squishing sounds as Tonto's rampaging member slid in and out of the blond's honey-sweet love box.
"Join the party, baby!" said Patti as she led a meek and tender young brunette past Mitch and the grappling couple he was watching.
Mitch felt a warm hand on his erect cock.
"How'd you like to whip somebody, honey?" It was the gorgeous spade chick whom Mitch had noticed earlier in the evening. "Come over here with me!" she said as she pulled Mitch along by his prick.
"This is Terry and my name is Gloria," she said as she placed her supple black arm protectively about the well-knit shoulders of a tiny white girl while still maintaining her grasp of Mitch's rock-hard dick. "Terry wants you to whip her while she's eating me out," said Gloria as she relinquished her grasp of Mitch's cock somewhat reluctantly.
"Will you whip me?" asked Terry in a soft voice. "Whip me all over while I make love to Gloria and afterwards, if you whip me hard enough. I'll do whatever you'd like to please you."
Gloria was already stretched out with her well formed and muscular legs spread widely apart waiting eagerly for Terry to begin. Terry gave Mitch a raw hide strap and told him to use it unsparingly no matter what she might later say. He wasn't to stop until ordered to do so by Gloria.
Gloria had been unable to wait and had started to masturbate before Terry had bent down between her shapely thighs. Terry knelt and fastened her mouth immediately to Gloria's gaping pussy as the black's tapered fingers continued to massage the top of her clit directly above Terry's hot and probing tongue.
Mitch employed the strap on Terry's exquisite rump as soon as Terry's tongue had made contact with Gloria's lusting snatch. He brandished the stiff cowhide expertly up and down Terry's quaking body and tried repeatedly to make the leather thong touch the area of flesh where the cracks of her pussy and asshole almost met. Each time he succeeded, Terry's lissome body would arch upward from the waist down while her head would literally burrow into Gloria's spacious thighs.
Gloria grabbed her knees and pulled them back exposing her twat more readily to Terry's plunging tongue which was sending waves of rippling pleasure through the sweat sheened body of the reclining Negress. The tip of the raw-hide bit into the small, delicate circle of flesh enclosing Terry's anus making her ass twitch with sublime pleasure-pain arousing Mitch to an almost uncontrollable height of heated passion.
Panting loudly, Gloria was kneading the paps on her heaving breasts as she heaped verbal abuse on the girl who was eating her.
Gloria called Terry every vile name that came into her mind. Terry seemed to thrive on abuse and her tongue sought Gloria's love juice with insatiable greed.
Mitch, working the lash vigorously over Terry's creamy flesh, wished the nigger bitch would hurry up and come so that he could get next to some pussy. Although the black woman was far more beautiful Mitch wanted Terry's poontang much more. He knew it was her he had to have and he couldn't wait.
Terry's fingers were manipulating her own fur-box and her tongue was buried as far as it could go when Gloria finally released a long sigh of contented climax. Terry's mouth drank from Gloria's running snatch for several minutes before Gloria pulled the sucking girl's head up onto her belly.
'Turn over!" Gloria ordered the prostrate girl. Mitch had stopped whipping her and was waiting patiently for his promised turn with her. "Whip her pussy! Whip the shit out of it! Whip it hard!" Gloria fairly screamed at Mitch as she twisted the head of the girl so that the back of her head was nestled on her still wet cunt. Terry had to turn her body upward or break her neck.
The raw hide sliced through the air with a shrill whistling noise and landed right on the intended spot. Terry gasped and cried out as Mitch bought the grim strap down on its tender target again and again. Gloria was holding the wriggling girl by the hair as Mitch worked the devastating lash with deadly precision.
"Whip her titties! Whip her titties!" called Gloria above the wailing of the sorry girl. "Whip her nipples! Get her nipples! Hit her hard! Harder! Harder!" Gloria yelled as she pulled the hysterical girl's hair with gleeful callousness.
The leather strap was flying through the air as rapidly as Mitch could maneuver it. It fell time and time again across the tits, belly, and pussy of the tormented girl as she lay captive between the strong legs of her mistress. She wailed and screamed as the stinging whip tore into her lacerated flesh.
Mitch, his arm weary from the exertion of the prolonged flogging, finally allowed the raw hide strap to drop from his hand. He fell heavily atop the breathless, masturbating girl who seemed to have an insatiable desire for sexual encounters. Terry was still lying, face up, between the luxurious legs of the tawny Negress. She grabbed Mitch's cock and stuffed it quickly into her devouring pussy.
"Don't move," Terry whispered into his ear as soon as she had saddled him upon her. "I'll take care of everything."
Mitch felt her feverish pussy slowly tightening around his excited cock as Terry nibbled his ear and licked his neck with a relishing tongue. She very obviously had complete muscle control over the fiery furnace of her femininity and she was using it to hold fast to Mitch's cock. She used the muscles expertly driving Mitch to the very edge of ecstasy with her clinging up and down motion and her rippling abdomen.
When Mitch looked up over Terry's head he had an unobstructed view of Gloria's heaving stomach and breasts. He plunged his tongue into her still damp nookie after pushing Terry's head to one side. Gloria raised her legs slightly to allow Mitch easier access to her hairy honey dew.
When he came into her tight twat Terry groaned with delight and pushed him gently from his perch. She straddled Gloria's face and held her torn and bleeding puss-lips apart while Gloria's searching mouth sought Mitch's hot sperm from its resting place within Terry's body.
When Gloria had obtained a fair amount of the scum within the lush folds of Terry's pungent love-hole, the two girls kissed passing the full-flavored fluid back and forth between them until each had swallowed some. They sat together in a lover's lingering embrace ignoring Mitch completely while their eager hands explored their own bodies and their mouths merged with renewed passion. Mitch watched the spectacle for a few moments, then resumed his wanderings.
Even Mitch was shocked by the sights which confronted him at every turn. Naked bodies were everywhere engaged in all manner of sexual deviation. Girls were being whipped, beaten, tortured and forced to perform all sorts of sexual acts.
The noise of suffering, pleading voices could be heard throughout the entire length and breadth of the sweltering room. The grossest carnality was everywhere evident and every now and then a shrill scream would split the air. The shrieking cries would usually be followed by the sadistic laughter and harsh voices of butch-type females barking orders or berating their unfortunate comrades.
"Hey, Mitch!" It was Tonto. He was waving his hands frantically in an effort to distract Mitch's attention from a couple in front of him.
The couple, a big butch broad who had an enormous dildo attached to her bushy twat and a slim, frail looking girl who was bent over in front of her, seemed oblivious to their surroundings as the butch prepared to skewer the slim one's ass hole with the huge dildo. She held the stooped girl's thighs in her mammoth hands as she made a brutal stab directly on target. The spiked girl arched her back and tried to straighten up but the butch held her firmly in place as the dildo tore up and into her tiny bunghole.
"Did ya ever see anything like this?" Tonto said, sweeping his hand in a wide arc to indicate the panorama of sex which surrounded them completely. "Man, it's hard to believe that they do this almost every weekend," he said as he latched onto a naked broad who was chained to the wall. "What a gas! We can do anything we want to at least a dozen broads around here. What a gas!" Tonto was getting excited as he tormented the girl who was chained by pinching her nipples.
Tonto began punching another girl who had tried to scurry by him. "What a gas! what a gas!" Tonto said over and over as he smashed his balled fist into the girl's soft under-belly causing her to double over in breathlessness. He sent her sprawling across the floor with a rabbit-punch on the neck and laughed merrily at the sorry sight she presented as she picked herself up and hurriedly sought to disappear in the crowd. "Quite a party!" Tonto told Mitch. "Quite a party!" he reaffirmed as he returned to the girl chained to the wall.
As the long night wore on Mitch had several more encounters and got his rocks off repeatedly by alternately whipping then fucking the shit out of one broad after another. He made them do everything he wanted. At one point he was lying on the floor with one nice piece of fluff sucking madly away at his prick while he caressed and fondled two others. He made them change positions and would have one of the girls hold his cock while another sucked the tip and the other licked his balls. They kissed and licked his whole body. They were a good team.
CHAPTER SIX
Mitch's next shack up was with Cathy, where she lived with her sister, Trixie.
Trixie was a hooker and about two or three years older than Cathy. She had a good body and was very adept at the art of pleasing men. From the looks of the clothes in her closet Trixie was doing very well in her chosen profession. Mitch had been to bed with her a couple of times and he knew that she'd be able to bring in the bacon for a long time to come. Trixie had some real talent.
The first night that Mitch had slept over in Trixie's flat, Trixie had clambered eagerly right into the bed with them. This was when Mitch had first met Cathy and had had no other place to live. The three of them had slept together every night for a whole week before Mitch had decided to leave because the girls wouldn't let him sleep. He always slept, or tried to sleep, between them but somehow he never got any shuteye!
The two sisters looked very much alike and they were both exhibitionist nymphomaniacs. They had no qualms about engaging in dual sexual relationships. That first night had been a real ball with the sisters competing with one another for Mitch's attentions. They'd even worked on him as a team, with one sucking his cock while the other played with his ass and balls. That first night, he'd fucked them both two or three times.
When he'd fuck Cathy, Trixie would go down with her hot, moist tongue on Mitch's balls and ass hole. They always took turns and would complain petulantly if Mitch seemed to show any favoritism between them. They vied with one another to see who could please him the most, each girl trying to outdo her sister and be the one to give Mitch a climax.
Sometimes Trixie would lick at Mitch's cock as he was sliding it in and out of Cathy's love hole. Cathy would often do the same when he was fucking the hot blooded and uninhibited Trixie. Between them they really knew how to turn someone on.
Trixie would straddle Mitch's hips and ride his bulging prick allowing it to slip to the very tip, almost coming completely out, before bringing her luscious love box down around the very root of Mitch's pulsing spear, slamming her ripe ass right into his straining balls. While this was happening Cathy would be perched on Mitch's face, rubbing her delicious sweet honey box into Mitch's mouth as he reached up and pinched the heaving pair of breasts dangling enticingly from each of the sex stoned and wanton sisters.
One time Mitch had Trixie kneel on the bed and while he fucked her in her ass hole, shoved her face into Cathy's fur box and pulled Trixie's head around by her hair as her tongue went deep into Cathy's body. Cathy massaged her own pear shaped boobs as her sister's face was forced harder and harder up against her bawdry twat. As Mitch pumped his cock harder into Trixie's grateful booty, her tongue savored the potent juices of Cathy's spring-tide of passion. They had a triple climax even though Trixie's twat was left untouched.
Trixie also liked to lie on her back with Mitch straddling her chest so that she could massage his jutting prick by rubbing it between her lovely knockers while she masturbated herself. She knew how to jerk Mitch off as she worked her tits but Cathy would be required to masturbate her since she needed both hands to work her breasts. Trixie would raise her head and lick and suck at Mitch's tip as her soft warm flesh brought him to peaks of passion. She would often be looking right down the tube as Mitch released his load splashing into her face as she tried to get her tongue on it. Whatever she missed was never wasted, since Cathy would lick it from her sister's neck and face.
He would send them out in the early evening and tell them how much they had to bring home. If they didn't bring in enough money he'd make them whip one another. If just one came back with enough money she whipped the other, but was not whipped herself unless she failed to whip her sister with proper enthusiasm. Whenever one sister was lax in administering punishment Mitch would think up a new and ingenious punishment that she would have to submit to.
He really enjoyed watching the sisters whipping each other's ass just because he told them to do so. They'd both do anything he told them.
Mitch recalled one night when Cathy and Trixie had both come home empty handed. It had been raining, and they'd been unable to turn any tricks.
"Mitch-it's no use-I just couldn't--" Cathy began, sobbing, anticipating what was in store for her.
"Shut up!" snarled Mitch, clubbing the back of his fist across her face and knocking her down. "There's no wine, there's no grass, there isn't even any fucking food in the house, and you can't even turn a trick. I hope you did better, big sister."
Trixie cringed against the door. She was unable to speak, but her eyes said it all. Mitch kicked her in the twat with his heavy motorcycle boot. He looked down at the gasping, sniveling girls, relishing the thought of what he'd make them do to each other as punishment. It was almost better than if they'd come in with some bread.
"Get on your feet," he said, "and take your fucking clothes off."
Cathy and Trixie stripped, as ordered, still sobbing. They knew what Mitch was like when he got in this kind of a mood, and they were so frightened they couldn't even speak. He led them to the tiny kitchen, where he ordered Trixie to lie on top of the electric range.
"Mitch-you can't-l won't!" sobbed Trixie, trying to get up, but Mitch knocked her back down with a blow of his fist that brought a spurt of blood to her lips.
"Lie on top of her," he ordered Cathy, and she complied meekly.
Mitch tied them together, hand and foot, Cathy on top of Trixie. Then he switched on all the burners of the range to the "Low" setting. He was getting carried away with his fun, but he still had sense enough to know that they'd be no good to him as whores if he scarred them up too badly. Even so, every fiber of his being longed to flip the dials to the "High" setting and send them on the ultimate pain-trip.
The nude, voluptuous beauties lay there for a moment, sobbing, before it struck them just what he was up to. It struck Trixie first, as all four burners of the range heated up and began searing into her naked back. She began squirming and bucking, trying to turn herself away from them--and she succeeded in pushing Cathy's back against the burners.
"Oh, wow, outtasight!" howled Mitch, who was whacking off furiously as he watched them. His come splashed out and happened to spatter over Trixie's nude back, reddened in four round spirals from the heat of the range, and when Cathy managed to flip her over again, the sizzling sound his semen made on the hot burners turned him on again.
The girls struggled back and forth, neither one of them able to win a decisive victory and keep her sister firmly pinned against the hot burners. The thought soon entered their heads that they ought to work together and roll off the range completely, rather than fight each other to see who got burned, but Mitch anticipated that, and he threatened to carve them up with a butcher knife he held in his hand if they pulled any of that stuff. They knew he meant it.
Mitch's sexual excitement increased as he watched them writhing about like that, trying to keep their backs out of contact with the electric coils. Finally he couldn't stand the stiff pressure of his bone any longer, and not wanting to jerk off again, he climbed on top of the pile. Trixie happened to be on top and shoved his meat into her asshole.
Cathy screamed with despair. Now, with Mitch's great weight added to the pressure Trixie was applying on her, she was pinned down on the burners just as securely as she could possibly be. The odor of burning flesh rose to Mitch's nostrils before he finally pulled his cock out of Trixie's asshole.
He hadn't come yet, though, and he went to the sink and ran cold water over his stiff prick until he was sure he'd desensitized it for the time being and was ready for another round.
Cathy had fought her way back to the top as soon as Mitch had left, and now it was her asshole that was the recipient of the hard, searing, inward thrust of his oversized tool. Trixie was pinned down, meanwhile, and she screamed wildly even as Cathy moaned from the unbearable squeeze that Mitch was subjecting her to. He rammed his cock in and out of her rectum until finally he came.
It was only then that he decided to let the girls off the stove, and he made them both lick his prick good and clean before he at last untied their bonds.
Mitch remembered that Trixie had one john who liked to watch her make love to his German shepherd dog. Mitch and Cathy had been there on one of the evenings during which Trixie was to entertain this guy and his dog. He would pay one hundred dollars just to jerk himself off while Trixie made love to the dog. Mitch couldn't understand it.
Trixie would spread herself out on the bed while the john would stuff a small quantity of hamburger meat up into her cunt, working his fingers as he did so to arouse her before the dog was allowed on the bed. The dog strained at his leash. As soon as the john felt her body beginning to respond at the prodding of his fingers he patted the bed and allowed the dog enough slack to jump on the bed. The giant dog reacted immediately to his master's signal by leaping on the bed between Trixie's twitching legs and beginning to nuzzle at her hairy little quim. Her body jerked spasmodically as the dog's long tongue sought out the bits of hamburger meat trapped deep up her snatch and the dog's pointed fangs chaffed the tender skin and tangled the hairs of her cushy succulent snatch.
When the dog began licking her box, Trixie, aware that all eyes in the room were riveted to the sight, went wild in a frenzy of open-mouthed eruption. The john hovered in the corner playing out the dog's leash, avidly engrossed in the sight presented by Trixie's twisting contortions as she attempted to drive the dog's flashing tongue deeper into her quivering body with her own gluttonous body movements. Masturbating rapidly and holding the dog's leash so he had at least some control of the action, the wide eyed john would spit large globs of saliva on his fingers so that it sounded as if he were fucking a juicy cunt.
After a fair amount of time had elapsed Trixie slid her body around so that her head was now very close to the dog's tail. She slipped her hand under the dog's stomach and began to rub his cock and balls. The dog rolled over and lay with his hind legs out and his paws curled, as if playing dead, but his tongue was still going in Trixie's pussy. The dog was laying the same way that many dogs lay on hot days, on his back with legs outstretched. The room was really hot by now anyhow.
Trixie began to suck at the dog's round tight balls as she continued to rub his prick with her hand. When a thin dripping tube emerged from the covering sheath, she quickly covered the gloopy looking pink thing with her mouth and worked her tongue over its entire length.
The john had moved to the foot of the bed and was pounding his prick so hard that Mitch thought that it might come off. The dopey bastard had his fat face so close up to the scene of action that his onion head was blocking Mitch and Cathy's view. When Trixie flipped onto her knees and guided the dog into her glistening sodden cunt, the dog seemed to go insane. Trixie obviously loved it as the dog pumped himself into her wiggling excited body. The fact that she was the center of attention fucking a wild beast and degrading herself simultaneously only served to enhance Trixie's all consuming lust. She enjoyed being the key performer and she also liked to have her sister in the audience. Trixie was sure that Cathy understood because they were so much alike.
Cathy reached for Mitch's erect cock and started to stroke it vigorously as she watched her sister and the dog was rapidly approaching a withering climax. The dog lunged himself viciously into Trixie's love trap as he neared completion. She cried out and collapsed with the dog on top of her as the dog's sperm flowed into her hot welcoming body. Her back was gouged with long scratches where the large dog had held himself mounted upon her. His tapered claws had tore into Trixie's flesh but she was too far gone into passion to notice. As the dog withdrew Trixie buried her disheveled head in her languid arms and burrowed her blushing face into the bedspread. She was whimpering.
"I'd pay another fifty bucks to see your sister there eat the come out of that sweet pussy of yours and pass it back to you by mouth," the john told Trixie without glancing at Mitch or Cathy. He called his dog and the mutt left the bed and began to lick his master's cock. Mitch went into the kitchen as Cathy was getting undressed.
Mitch didn't return until the john had left. The two sisters were still naked and lying together on the bed as Mitch came through the bedroom door. He removed his clothes and lay between the girls. Stretching himself out he ordered them to lick his body from head to foot. He made them get out of bed and worship him. They knelt on either side of the bed and begged to be permitted to lick his body. Mitch graciously allowed them to take turns sucking his cock. He pretended they were his slaves and he treated them exactly as if they were chattel. Cathy and Trixie really dug it. They were eager to please.
Mitch hadn't seen Trixie since he'd arrived in the apartment. She must be out working, he thought. He'd heard that Trixie was now working for some spade cat who had a string of girls out hustling. Mitch believed it since he accepted the premise that spades had larger cocks than white guys and there was nothing Trixie liked better than a big cock. The black man probably even beat her and treated her like dirt which would make Trixie love him even more. The more you mistreated Trixie, the more apt she was to love you.
Mitch really didn't understand how these girls could reconcile being treated poorly, shit and spat upon and still believed themselves truly loved by those who did it. He knew only that he did love Cathy in spite or because of their rather bizarre sexual habits. When Cathy gave herself to him, she gave herself totally and without reservation.
She called to him from the kitchen to come and eat. He pulled his body slowly and painfully from the snug security of the warm bed. He was still shaky. Wafting into his nostrils from the direction of Trixie's tidy kitchen the tantalizing smell of the cooking food lured him forward. Mitch was hungry after all.
As he was eating he told Cathy to get dressed and go down to the corner newsstand for a paper. Mitch hardly ever read the paper. He saw no pressing need to follow what was happening in a world that was alien from his own and over which he exerted no control. He wanted it to see if he was in it or if they had Stella's murder written up.
Cathy came back with the paper and handed it to Mitch giving him a light kiss on the cheek as she cleared away the breakfast dishes. Mitch knew that Cathy loved him and it gave him a strange feeling of inner calm as he realized for the first time how close they really were. He knew Cathy as he'd never known anyone else.
He knew that he must always treat her roughly and she knew it too. There was no pretense between them. They never talked about it, though they both knew it had to be this way. She may have been the world's biggest whore, but she was Mitch's whore. He owned her body and soul.
There was no mention of Stella's murder in the paper. Mitch felt relieved as he read the stories of other murders and other incidents scattered throughout the printed pages. He laughed at the cartoons. If they hadn't found her body by now, maybe they never would. When he'd finished with the paper, Mitch sent Cathy over to the Stomper's clubhouse to find out if any police had been around looking for him. He didn't trust the papers.
Cathy, who knew nothing about the murder, wondered why Mitch was acting so peculiarly.
Mitch and Cathy walked towards the gas station where Mitch had stashed the bike. He was fairly bursting by the time they reached their destination.
"Hello bike, you beautiful thing you. Look Cathy, look how his chrome shines. Oh, you beautiful, beautiful bike you. I am going to take you for a glorious ride. You can't wait, can you, bike? Well, are you ready?" Mitch addressed the bike as if it were flesh and blood. The bike, it seemed to Mitch, had been waiting patiently, leaning on its kickstand, for the entire night for Mitch to come along and endow it with the life that Mitch, and only Mitch, could give it.
Mitch kicked the starter pedal twice, flipped on the ignition, kicked the pedal again and shattered and rent the darkness with the mighty engine's crescendo of cascading sound.
It was music; beautiful music and the feel of power. Mitch's head was a kaleidoscope of unleashed and naked power. As soon as Cathy was mounted behind, he headed his frothing beast out into the pregnant night.
He rode fast but being careful to avoid the known cop hangouts. He wasn't wearing his colors. It was safer that way and he attracted a little less attention. Most of the Stompers were in the habit of hiding their colors when they were riding alone or in very small groups. Wearing the colors was similar to waving a red flag in the face of a bull as far as its effects on the cops were concerned.
Mitch felt as if he were sailing in air as he swept past the Ballantine Brewery and up onto the Pulaski Skyway. A short while later he found himself at the George Washington Bridge approaches in the company of four other machines. He couldn't pinpoint the precise moment the other riders had joined him but they seemed to be beckoning to Mitch to ride with them as they went into the toll booths. They even paid the bridge toll for Mitch and Cathy.
They looked like swishes, leather boys on full dress hogs. Mitch had nothing but contempt for them but he tagged along behind them anyhow. The five bikes raced across the bridge and down to the West Side Highway. Mitch was lost in the clouds as the roaring monsters careened along the highway threading their way through mazes of red taillights. Faceless persons stared out at them through sheets of rolled up glass as the riders weaved and twisted past the clumps of graceless metal containers that held the people imprisoned in their own luxury. They cut off the highway and sped across the city's ill kept streets heedless of the shattering thunder of their combined exhausts as they echoed and re-echoed in the concrete canyons of New York.
They were at a bar in Greenwich Village. There were perhaps twenty machines of all makes and models aligned in neat rows along the curb outside. Tourists and street people intermingled with the natives on the crowded sidewalk in front of the honky-tonk. Mitch, inside the bar, had a drink in his hand and one of the leather boys he so despised was talking to him. He wanted to know how to chop his bike and was asking Mitch's opinion on what needed to be done. He seemed to feel some sort of kinship with Mitch. Mitch didn't give a shit about the queer's motorcycle and he let the words drop over him without paying attention. He hated this type of person. They were all carbon copies and stereotypes, none of them were real. They were phonies. He left the fruit in mid-sentence, grabbed Cathy by the arm and pulled her out into the street. Drink still in hand, he straddled the bike backwards and watched the endless parade of people passing by.
Somebody who looked pretty real came by after a half-hour or so. He was a tall cat with buccaneer boots, a sword on his hip and wearing a leather hat with plumes on it. He was very weird. He looked like Robin Hood or some other character. The far-out looking dude asked them if they wanted to buy some dope.
Before they knew what was happening, Mitch and Cathy were walking down the street with the exotically attired drug peddler. Two or three people stopped the trio to make buys before they got to an old ramshackle building on Bleecker Street. Sure enough, as the drug peddler had told them, there was a party going on.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sticky sweet smell of grass floated through the conversations which Mitch picked up on beneath the overlapping layers of a mean blues harp beginning another set on the blasting stereo. The room which Mitch entered was like another world. It was different from anything he'd ever encountered before. It was filled to overflowing with a host of alien beings. The whole place was jammed to the rafters with weirdos of every conceivable description.
Mitch was still speeding along as he gulped down an acid that was given him by a lush.
dark skinned chick who looked almost Asiatic. The dusky beauty had long, jet black hair piled high atop an oval face with very slightly slanting eyebrows. She wore a peek-a-boo blouse and Mitch drank in the loveliness of her taut, pink tipped nipples which contrasted sharply to the ebony richness of her full ripened bosom as she strained up at him from the sheer transparency of her garment. She seemed very friendly.
Cathy was lost. Mitch could feel the advent of the acid. He would be stoned for quite a while, he reflected as he began to search for Cathy.
"Cathy, Cathy?" he called as he bumbled about the room. She had disappeared, vanished into thin air.
Mitch's perception of the room was as if he were thirty million miles in space looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope. A myriad of reflected images surrounded and encased him. He was very hot and sweating as he got caught up in a cluster of gesticulating fanatics. Mitch never knew what they were fanatics about, but he could tell unerringly that they were fanatic. He couldn't find Cathy.
"Where's Cathy? Where's Cathy?" Cathy was lost. Mitch got lost in the hall. He was hallucinating and he didn't realize it. He wanted Cathy. Where the hell was Cathy?
Mitch saw Jesus leaning on a doorway up against the wall. "Are you Jesus?" he asked him incredulously.
"Not lately," he answered handing Mitch a super fat joint as he did so. Mitch took a deep drag and passed on. As he went by Jesus blessed him.
Mitch spotted Cathy. She was pinned to the wall by a huge and horrible hulk. The ugly hulk sent bad vibes through Mitch's still painful body. Well, his body wasn't all that painful Mitch thought as he grabbed the hulk's fat neck from behind. He could barely get his hands all the way around the immense neck and he had to stand on tip-toes to reach it.
He squeezed until the hulk turned away from Cathy to face him. Without giving the hulk any time Mitch lifted his knee into hulk's groin while at the same time rabbit punching him on his thick neck. The hulk collapsed in a heap on the floor. Many people applauded as Cathy hugged Mitch and led him away into another room. The battle was over.
Mitch felt very good. He held Cathy close and was glad he'd been able to save her from the evil hulk. Cathy was extra beautiful as she covered Mitch with kisses and sucked at his lower lip. Mitch's whole being unwound and intermingled with Cathy's. Their two separate souls intertwined becoming one.
They kissed for an eternity of unbounded bliss and when they looked into one another's eyes, they laughed as they saw only one another reflected back. They saw only themselves as they explored each other. Mitch thought he was going to explode with an undefined and nameless happiness.
The walls of the room they were in were papered with posters. Posters were everywhere in the house, everywhere in the city and everywhere in the world. Even the stinkin' rotten Chinese Communists had posters. Everybody had posters. Mitch had no posters, but even worse he had no walls. He laughed and tried to share the joke with Cathy. She wanted to neck. Mitch studied the posters.
One of the posters was of Cathy! She was lying nude on a gleaming gold chopper. Her body was painted in luminous colors that blended perfectly with the royal bike's somewhat muted color scheme. She looked beautiful and radiant. Mitch turned her face and pointed up at the picture so they could share it. She smiled as she at last recognized it. The poster brought back a lot of memories.
Mitch had been there the day the picture was taken and after the photographer was finished Mitch had driven Cathy with the multi-colored paint still on her body to a quiet and secluded wood. He'd been on acid then too, and Cathy had been quite a sight as she pranced naked through the woods with her many hued body shimmering like a rainbow. Mitch had run after her and she'd fled before him mockingly. He chased her around and around the giant trees, but she managed to elude him until he was half crazy with desire.
As they romped through the woods, Mitch and Cathy found an abandoned windmill, and they decided to explore it. They were shocked at what they found. The big stone room inside had been converted by someone into a torture chamber, with all sorts of instruments of torment lined around the walls.
"Gee, Mitch," said Cathy, "who do you suppose this all belongs to?"
"I wouldn't know, but I think this is just what the doctor ordered at the moment."
"Wha--what do you mean, Mitch?"
Mitch didn't answer. He was looking at a sturdy ladder fastened securely into the slimy stone wall. The most unusual thing about it was that it didn't go anywhere. It just ended, with no door or ledge or anything but the blank wall.
Then he noticed something else: at the base of the ladder was a thick wooden roller, which could apparently be turned by a crank through a system of wooden gears.
"I read about one of these things in a book once," said Mitch, "and I've always wanted to see how they worked."
"Jeez, Mitch, I wouldn't even begin to guess!"
"Well, kid, you're going to find out."
"What do you mean?"
Cathy started as something hard and cold touched her wrists, and she realized that Mitch had got a pair of handcuffs that were hanging on the wall and had cuffed her hands behind her back before she'd even realized what he was up to. He turned her around until her back was to the ladder. He did it gently, smiling at her all the while, and that reassured her, because Cathy knew that Mitch loved her and whatever he did to her was groovy, as long as he did it.
"Climb up the ladder backwards, doll," said Mitch. "Don't worry. I'll catch you if you fall."
Cathy did as she was told, as always, somewhat clumsily, but Mitch steadied her by holding her nude hips. She stood on the fourth rung of the ladder now, some five feet from the ground and that ominous roller at the base of the ladder. Mitch went behind her, and she felt that he was fastening the shackles on her wrists to one of the rungs at the small of her back. She was secured tightly to the ladder now, unable to move her arms, as Mitch reappeared into her field of vision.
Mitch took a thick rope from the variety of those things hung about the walls and bound her right ankle, making several firm loops around her ankle and calf before finally tying a knot so tight that it made her wince. He tied the other end of the rope to a pin in the roller beneath her, and then repeated the procedure with another rope around her left ankle.
"Please, Mitch--don't get carried away, will you?" Cathy asked hesitantly.
"Don't give me none of that shit, you stupid broad," snarled Mitch, punching her savagely in the stomach. "I'm always completely in control of myself. I never get carried away."
"Whatever you say, Mitch," sobbed Cathy, when at last she was capable of speech again.
Mitch bent now to the crank that turned the roller. Cathy had been standing on one of the rungs, but as Mitch turned the crank, the ropes on her feet were wound around the roller, the slack was taken off them, and her feet were pulled off the rung. She screamed, knowing now what the torture was--all her weight was supported on her arms, shackled behind her back, and they were being pulled up by her own weight, strained in an unnatural way that made it feel as if her shoulder blades were being pulled out by the roots.
"Jesus, kid, if you scream like that, you won't have no strength left when the going really gets rough. I always said you was my girl because you could take it."
"I--ahhh!--I'm sorry Mi-ih-itch!" gasped Cathy. "I'll try to do better."
Cathy made a real effort to stop screaming her lungs out and conserve her energy. And there was always a chance that her screams might attract some jerk who'd misunderstood all this, who wouldn't see that she wanted it because Mitch wanted it.
It was hard to keep from screaming though, because Mitch was turning the roller again, and the pain in her shoulders was becoming more than just a localized pain--it was as if all of her bones were being pried loose from the flesh, and she felt the agony of it from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She couldn't even scream, even if she'd wanted to, now, because her heart had seemed to stop and her voice was paralyzed by the excess of pain that was tearing her body apart.
She couldn't see Mitch any more, and that was the worst torture of all. Her body was thrust forward, her head hanging down, as her arms were raised behind her until they were almost stretched out at right angles to her torso. Every effort to ease the pain by shifting her position only served to increase it--it was a horrid, unnatural position--she was being bent and stretched in directions that the human form hadn't been designed for. She couldn't move a muscle without increasing the flood of pain that threatened to drown her at any moment.
"Keep a tight asshole, kid," said Mitch.
"Here goes nothing."
The worst scream yet was wrenched out of Cathy's ruby lips as Mitch went back to his grisly work and turned the horrible crank a couple of more notches. She felt the sockets of her arms being ground and torn by the wrenching, upward pressure as her body was dragged down the ladder, and the strain on her elbows and forearms had become almost unbearable, too.
"How's it goin', kid?" Mitch asked, looking up at her. "You're starting to turn a little blue around the edges."
"Oh--Mitch--I--"
"Yeah, I know, you want more. Cheest! You dames. This ain't the easiest thing in the world, you know, turning this motherfuckin' crank."
Mitch had caught his breath, and now he bent over the crank once again, jerking it around a few more notches and forcing Cathy's contorted arms up higher behind her back. It felt as if the muscles around her shoulders and armpits had been hooked onto white-hot wires that were drawing them out, spindling them and rending them. Something was surely on the verge of giving--she didn't know what it was, but she was sure in the next instant that a bone would break, a joint would be dislocated, or a bunch of tendons would snap like over-extended rubber bands.
"Please, Mitch--no more, please--I'll do anything you say--anything you want--"
"You'd do that anyway, so save your breath," gasped Mitch, who really had to struggle to turn the crank, now.
He began sending fresh waves of pain through bones and muscles that she thought could have stood no more. She was being drawn back toward the ladder as her arms were raised impossibly above the horizontal point. She could raise her face and see him again, and that was something, at least. She wondered how high he planned to raise her arms, how far down he planned to drag her body--or, more to the point, how far he could go without killing her or crippling her for life. She'd never be able to ride pillion on his chopper again, if he turned her arms into spaghetti. The thought made her sob.
"I guess that's about enough," said Mitch, climbing up the ladder until he was above her and his thick, hard cock was pressing against her mouth. "Give me one of your really great blowjobs, and then maybe I'll think about letting you down."
Cathy threw her whole soul into sucking his cock, laving the thick meat in her mouth, massaging it with her lips and tongue, and when Mitch's hot cream spurted out, she knew that she'd given him the best she could give. She swallowed greedily, and Mitch at last untied her.
When they left the windmill, they went back to their romp through the woods, and Mitch once again chased Cathy through the trees.
When he caught her, Mitch threw her down and licked each inch of her lithe little body, every nook and cranny. No part of her escaped his ravenous tongue. Cathy had gone completely berserk with passion. They did everything. They had an orgy which defied description beneath the lofty canopy of the forest. Mitch remembered and smiled at Cathy. Cathy remembered too, she'd been sore for a week afterward but she wouldn't have traded that memory for anything. The couple were very happy as they stood looking into each other's hearts and eyes.
In the corner of the room he caught the faint sounds of people speaking softly. He tried to see into the darkened recess from which the muted voices could just barely be traced. Cathy, hearing it too, half turned and their four eyes probed into the murky blackness trying to embody the floating words. The acid was making a shambles of Mitch's senses as he peered into the darkness of the pitchy textured room. After a brief period his dilated eyes were able to perceive the dimly naked forms of two unknown figures huddled together alongside a chair in the darkest corner of the far wall.
"Well, now that you've discovered us, why don't you flick on the light, dearie?" crooned a huskily feminine voice.
Another fuckin' queer! Mitch thought to himself as he groped alongside the wooden door casement looking for the light switch. His searching fingers slid across barren plaster. "Mother fucking switch," he grumbled out loud.
"The switch is in the hall just outside the door," advised the same voice from the dark. Mitch felt around the outside and finally located the elusive switch, the room suddenly burst into brightness. Mitch and Cathy blinked into the blinding whiteness in a futile effort to discern the features of the two naked bodies whose vague outlines they had seen earlier in the darkness.
"How long have you two been standing there?" asked the still disembodied voice. "Oh well, I guess it really doesn't matter," the voice added after a brief pause.
One of the forms which Mitch and Cathy could only now begin to recognize was the body of a rather tall and splendidly proportioned female. Her sparkling hair was jet black and descended in spiraling cascades over her well favored face and wide white shoulders. To Mitch she looked like a vision of wondrous pulchritude.
"Hi, there," she said brightly. She didn't seem in the least concerned at her total lack of apparel. "My name's Holley and that over there is L," she said indicating with a stretched thumb the other form huddled in the corner.
Mitch tried to introduce Cathy and himself to the stunning girl but the words refused to form themselves. The acid he'd ingested was coming on heavily in densely overlapping waves, scattering his thought processes and wreaking absolute havoc on his communication devices. Mitch stammered and stuttered, but still the words eluded his groping mind and tongue. The harder he tried, the more confused he became.
Holley and L were naked and seated directly across from him, fondling one another with semi-tender caresses as they spoke. Mitch's rapidly expanding head encompassed the universe and then shattered into tiny fragments as he watched.
"They couldn't be doing that. They couldn't be sitting there and doing that." His mind revolted at the incongruity before him. He had to pull it together, had to assemble and arrange. Panic stalked him while confusion defied him. Chaotic ramblings converged upon his unwilling consciousness and trampled it. Blind and unreasoned fear pervaded every level of Mitch's disarrayed thought pattern.
"What was happening? What was going on? Couldn't be doing that. What?" Mitch couldn't decide, couldn't interpret. Didn't know! He didn't know and couldn't decide. Decide what? Didn't know! He didn't know. Know what? Know? What? Didn't know. What? What?"
"What!?" The sound of his own voice startled him.
Cathy flashed him a strange look. Holley and L were kissing. "Holley's invited us up to her house in the country."
"We can leave now if you'd like," enjoined Holley. "We can take my car if you want. It's about a four hour drive but we usually stop for coffee and... " Her voice droned on and on.
Mitch finding his powers of locomotion rose off the bed. "Let's go," he said as he made ready to depart.
Holley paused in her monologue. "To the house, you mean?"
"Yes, we'll wait in the other room for ya." Mitch grabbed Cathy by the arm and fled into the living room.
People were filing past them in a constant stream as Mitch and Cathy huddled unobtrusively in the doorway which led from the swarming living room to the back part of the house. Mitch's head was still spinning and he felt he had to escape the house. Even so, he waited. He wasn't sure why, but he felt compelled to wait. He had to wait and had to leave. His mind was in a quandary of indecisive indecision. Holley and L appeared just a split second before Mitch would have split himself asunder.
Once outside, Mitch's head began to clear a bit. It must be the air, he thought to himself. He remembered from reading the paper that they were ruining the air, polluting it until no one would be able to breathe. "Damn bastards," he mumbled to himself. Ruining my air. Well, he could always wear a gas mask. He chuckled at the vision of everyone wearing a gas mask and looking like Martians.
"Wait for me," Mitch instructed Cathy.
Cathy was loath to let him loose in the streets, but she knew that there was no way she could stop him. She let him go without asking him where he was going or how long he'd be. Hoping that she wouldn't have to wait all night for his return Cathy sat down on the front stoop. She would wait as long as necessary.
Mitch walked at a leisurely pace in the general direction of the bike. He no longer felt speed and his thoughts were arranging themselves in familiar patterns. His mind seemed crystal clear as he surveyed the environment of the city. The streets and buildings seemed almost hospitable and the passing people friendly as Mitch rounded a corner and caught sight of the bike. His bike, beautiful bike. His mind's eye had pictured his gleaming iron steed long before it had actually hovered into view. He really loved the damn thing.
He took the bike for a short, brisk ride before he headed back for Bleecker Street. As he shot around the corner he caught sight of Cathy and L standing about three doors down from the house where the party was still in full swing. He wheeled up to the curb with a screech and felt magnificent as he basked in the attention which the two girls lavished upon him.
L's eyes seemed to be an open invitation for Mitch to conquer her, to lay her right there on the sidewalk, to overcome and subdue her, to bend her to his iron will. Mitch could read these things in her eyes as L examined him and licked the corners of her ripe mouth with a quick darting of the tongue. She had the most seductive smile that Mitch had ever seen.
"Holley's gone for the car," Cathy informed Mitch without the slightest trace of annoyance at being left on the sidelines. She knew that Mitch would always come back. He always had and always would. Cathy was sure he loved her and didn't mind sharing him with others. There was plenty of him to go around.
"The garage is around the corner. You could park your motorcycle there," L told Mitch while drinking him in with hungry eyes.
She pointed in the direction of the garage and Mitch, feeling he wanted to make a still deeper impression of his masculine virility performed a two-thirds perfectly executed "wheely" as he gunned the bike down to the end of the street. He laid the bike over so far leaning into the sharp corner that he very nearly lost it coming out of the turn. He saw the garage and made a vain attempt to frighten the attendant by missing him by a mere hairbreadth after twisting the throttle for a final burst of convulsive speed. The man merely sidestepped him as Mitch screamed into the interior of the garage. Mitch saw Holley standing by the large entrance, waiting for her car to be disgorged from within the vast steel and concrete vault.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cathy's eyes widened as she took in the obvious splendor of the immense house. Mitch was more or less unimpressed by it and this fact was well noted by his hostess although neither of them said anything. Cathy fairly gushed about how beautiful it all was and how lucky she and Mitch were to be there. Mitch glared at her as if he wanted to cut off her flow of praise and gratitude which was visibly embarrassing him. She didn't seem to get the hint. Finally, in desperation, Mitch stomped down on her foot bringing an audible "Ow!" leaping from Cathy's throat.
Much to Holley's and L's amusement Mitch shoved her towards the house with a vile invective.
Once inside the house, Mitch too was impressed. He'd been in a few rich people's houses before, usually surreptitiously, but this one was totally beyond his ken. The room was like nothing Mitch had seen before. A huge crystal chandelier supplied the mammoth room with light. Rich paintings adorned the walls and Mitch's heavy boots sank into a carpet that seemed to be suspended on a cushion of air. A massive set of engraved doors stood open to reveal a room that was covered with bookshelves and dominated by a desk that looked as if it had once belonged to a king. Scattered about this room were several pedestals supporting busts of various funny looking people whom Mitch didn't recognize. He had probably seen them when he was living in the street and had gone to the museums to use the toilet. He liked to use the museum bathrooms because they were always spotlessly clean.
Through another set of doors a wide mahogany staircase wound elegantly to the upper floors. Mitch wondered what the rest of the house was like. He wondered how much he could get for the furniture and other stuff if he got a truck up here some day and hauled it all back to Newark. Probably not too much, he thought, who did he know who could afford to buy it?
Holley led the gaping pair into yet another room while L disappeared in another direction. The room they were led into was as equally lavish and Mitch shrewdly surmised that the entire house must be chock full of the savory trappings of affluence. He felt as if his ship was finally coming in. He meant to make the best of it. Holley asked Mitch to build a fire in the large stone fireplace that stood at one end of the richly paneled den.
The fireplace was so huge that Mitch could have almost stood erect within its grey-black wrought firepit. The small shelf of the mantle was constructed of white marble that blended perfectly with the stone. Directly in front of it was a small cluster of comfortable looking furniture around a white polar bear rug. Mitch found the wooden logs already stacked. Mitch soon had a respectable fire ablaze in spite of his inexperience. He didn't even have to sprinkle it with gasoline.
L entered the room bearing a swelling tray heaped to overflowing with a choice variety of gourmet food. Mitch didn't recognize any of the delicacies on the tray but he recognized the featured delicacy of the day. It was L. She was carrying the tray on one shoulder balancing it with both hands. Her right arm was crooked up under it while she used her left to keep it from tipping or spilling. She was as beautiful and graceful as the finest Greek statue.
Having discarded her clothing, L was naked as she entered the room. L's taut nipples stood bold and brazenly upright as her pear-shaped breasts swayed gently as she glided across the slightly chilled room. The lush curve of her pinnacles sloping upward made her lithe body appear as if it had been moulded by some ancient sculpture on the rolling hills of the Acropolis. Her ripe buttocks revealed the faintest traces of having been whipped or beaten with some form of stick or strap in the not too distant past adding immeasurably to her vibrant desirability and demonstrating her ready willingness to be subjugated. Mitch knew he was going to enjoy this visit.
Holley proposed that Mitch and Cathy allow L to undress them before eating. Mitch and Cathy had no objections and L performed her task with such eager alacrity that both Mitch and Cathy were completely naked before Holley was even half finished.
"How about a little entertainment while we eat?" Holley suggested as she walked to a switch on the wall. She turned a knob which controlled and muted the amount of light being shed into the room. There was a strange heat raging in the light being shed into the room. There was a crackling fire raging in the fireplace which shimmered the room with a warm glow. Holley walked to a chest and lifted the lid exposing an intricate assortment of dials and switches. She fiddled with a few of them and closed the ornate cover of the hand carved chest.
Music began to filter into Mitch's ears. Mitch scanned the room but could discern no speakers of any kind. He couldn't even pinpoint from which direction the music originated. It seemed to flow from everywhere at once to immerse him in resonate sound. The music was classical, but Mitch liked it anyway. It was very soothing and pleasing to Mitch's ears.
While still trying to locate the source of the music, Mitch stared in shocked amazement as a large section of the wall slid soundlessly to one side revealing a movie screen with a lighted picture already upon it. The movie was obviously running and yet Mitch could see very plainly that there was no projector.
"Back projection. The projector is behind the screen. It's all automated. Daddy's in the business," Holley answered Mitch's unvoiced question. "Daddy promised to put in a sound projector and get a good supply of sound film as soon as he can find the time. It's been over a year now since he promised," she said poutingly. "I bought a sound camera and everything and now I can't even run my latest movies."
You can imagine how sorry Mitch felt for her. The poor, poor little rich girl who couldn't have sound for her pornographic movies. She must be totally devastated, the poor thing. Mitch noticed that the unclad couples presently cavorting across the set-up were in vivid color. They were the first stag films Mitch had ever seen in color and he was a connoisseur of home made sex flicks.
Mitch loved sex movies. Ordinary feature films and television bored him to death, but he could sit and watch porno skin flicks till times got better. All sorts of delicious fantasies would flood his head as he watched.
He liked to watch almost as much as he enjoyed participating. It always gave him a tremendously vicarious thrill to watch others engaging in sexual acts, in person or on film. As long as broads were readily available in case he should be overcome by horniness.
One of the movies was going to be a sado-masochistic flick, Mitch could see it coming, from the way it was set up in a dungeon, and from how the woman who was apparently in charge wore boots and a leather corset and was cracking a whip when the scene opened. He clapped his hands and whooped with joy, because nothing turned him on like the sight of people getting the shit beat out of them, even if, unfortunately, he wasn't the one doing the beating.
She had a man and woman hanging from chains in this dungeon. The man was a big bruiser, and he was glaring angrily at the chick with the whip, but Mitch could tell his heart really wasn't in his anger, because he had a bone on. The other one, also naked and hanging from chains, was a stacked blonde.
First the woman with the whip knelt in front of the man and slipped his big cock into her mouth. She cupped his balls with her hand, and there was a nice zoom close-up of her sucking his cock and tickling his balls. She slipped her lips up and down on his cock for a while, and then she pulled her mouth away. Mitch's erection stiffened perceptibly as he watched, wishing the woman would suck him--and then he realized that the woman was Holley! Wow! She sure would suck him!
She stood up, now, running her fingertips up and down the man's stiff prick. It was stiff and swollen and almost purple, and it gleamed with her saliva.
Now Holley walked up and down in front of the two of them, as if trying to decide whether she wanted the man or the woman. She gave the blonde a good feel, on her tits, on her ass, and on her cunt, and the blonde closed her eyes and sighed like she really dug it.
Now Holley had apparently made up her mind, because she lowered her parted lips to the blonde's crotch, sliding her cheek down the girl's white stomach. Now the blonde closed her eyes--her thighs parted-- "Christ, what's all this dyke shit?" cried Mitch. "When does the whipping start?"
"Shut up, you cretin," said the real Holley.
Mitch didn't like any broad to tell him to shut up, but he forgave her. He knew that Crete was somewhere off the coast of Greece, and she was comparing him to a Greek god by calling him a cretin. Mitch was Polish, actually, but he took it as a compliment.
"Wow!" cried Mitch--because it wasn't going to be just a dyke scene. Holley, as soon as the blonde opened her thighs, jammed the thick leather handle of her whip deep up into her cunt, hard. It was obvious that she was hurting the piss out of the blonde, who seemed to be screaming her lungs out and wiggling like a fish on a line in her chains. She couldn't have been acting.
Holley continued to twist the thick handle and shove it upward, screwing it into her unprepared cunt. It was nearly twice as big as any man's phallus, even Mitch's, but she ground it in with all the strength of her arm, clutching the blonde's plump buttocks with her other clawed hand so that her fingernails drew blood. The blonde flung her head back and flailed her legs wildly in a hopeless effort to escape the tearing intrusion. Holley flung her hair back out of her eyes and paused to wipe the sweat from her brow. She was really working the poor broad over.
Holley began pumping the handle up and down, shoving it in and out, stretching the inflamed lips of the blonde's cunt so wide around it that Mitch thought they would burst. She kept fucking her with the makeshift dildo until a greasy sheen of blood gleamed on the leather. They couldn't have faked that, no way, thought Mitch.
At last the blonde seemed to have lost consciousness, and Holley reluctantly pulled the bloody whip-handle out of her cunt. She beckoned to someone off camera--and who should show up but L! These were really the kind of home movies Mitch liked.
Mitch noted that L was made up like some broad in a cheap girlie-book, with black mesh stockings, spiked heels, a flouncy garterbelt, a little black mask, and nothing else. She'd clearly made up her tits and her cunt with red lipstick.
Holley whipped her, making bloody lacerations in her ass as she knelt down in front of the man and sucked him off. When he finally came, they zoomed in for a close-up: his cock spurting juice into the air in a little arc to splash against L's face. Mitch could have watched more of this, but the movie ended there.
"Aw, fuck," said Mitch. "Is that all?" .
Holley laughed uproariously. "Mitch, we could sit here for days, and we wouldn't even scratch the surface of my stock of films. Just sit back and watch this one."
As Mitch relaxed and nibbled at the food, he watched the activities transpiring on the silver screen with intense interest. He caught sight of L lying on a bed surrounded by men. She had a very large roundish looking object, sort of like a narrow baseball bat, jammed up between her legs. In a well shot camera close-up you could actually see how the bat like object was chaffing and distending the pink walls of her juicing twat.
L was groaning, although no one watching could hear her, and massaging her sumptuous boobs with her hands. She was wiggling all over the bed as a man standing on the floor leaned over her. L immediately grabbed his giant cock and began to suck it with abandoned passion. After a few minutes she was on her knees, kneeling above the stretched out man, still sucking furiously. The photography was excellent, zooming in and out with distortion free clarity and perfect lighting. The technique of the photographer was absolutely flawless. Mitch certainly had to admire the fine work he was doing.
Now the man manipulating the shaft encased in L's sodden love-garden was also visible working the long lance with sadistic precision. Whenever he rammed it deeper into L's quaking crotch, her tight little ass would jump and her moist mouth would cover the entire cock right down to the balls. A third man began to whip her buttocks with a thin riding whip. He whipped her without mercy. Her twitching flesh became a grillwork of scarlet crimson within minutes.
The whip bit into her savagely and the man working the shaft plunged it deeply into her as L's mouth clamped down around the base of the man's throbbing prick. He contorted into an obvious orgasm. He spewed his come into her thirsty mouth as his legs jerked spasmodically into the air. L's arms were wrapped tightly around the man's bull-like flanks as the camera panned back to get a rear view shot. It was beautiful, revealing to the audience the full spectrum of L's torment as the shaft pierced her trembling body and the whip flew into her cringing flesh. The last vision on the darkening screen was of L's simpering mouth dribbling the man's semen as the other man continued to work her over. Her half closed and lustful eyes made her look ecstatic as the screen gradually faded out. It was the finest quality movie that Mitch had seen in a very long time.
When the movie had officially ended, Mitch glanced about the semi-dark room. He had a hard on and he had to piss. The drugs he'd taken earlier were still with him and seemed to be coming on heavier. He once again had that curious feeling of detachment, as if he weren't really there. He felt exactly as if he were part of a play. Well, at least he knew his role. It was a simple one and well rehearsed.
"Come 'ere," he said to L.
The movie screen flared up and exploded into multi-colored brightness as L came over and sat humbly on the floor by Mitch's feet. She was already quivering with excitement. Holley got up and sat next to Cathy.
"Where's the bathroom?" Mitch asked no one in particular. He'd decided that piss took precedence over hard-ons. The drugs were severely hampering his efforts to control himself and he didn't want to wet his pants.
CHAPTER NINE
L took him silently by the hand and led him quickly from the room as Mitch caught momentary sight of grappling couples flashing across a backdrop of psychedelic color. It looked like another good movie and Mitch was sorry he had to leave. He stumbled blindly through room after room, fantasizing away into new worlds of sexual phantasy and holding tightly to L's comforting hand.
Mitch followed in L's wake like a little boy afraid of becoming lost in a strange and alien place. L's small hand was like a beacon in the wilderness filling Mitch's tumbling mind with a solid sense of inner security as the chaos plaguing him began to dissolve and dissipate into the void of nothingness from which it had originally sprung. He felt safe.
They walked for hours, for years, for eons before they finally arrived at their elusive destination. Mitch felt wearier than he'd ever felt before. The full length mirror, which stretched from floor to ceiling revealed a strange and haggard apparition staring out at him. He stared back out at himself in stubborn and disbelieving amazement. He knew it couldn't be.
Mitch's eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his head and roll across the tiled floor. He threw his hands over them. He held them tightly to keep them from bulging out of their sockets. Mitch was terrified. He held his eyes with all his might to keep them in. He didn't want to lose them. He needed them. He would never let them go.
He tried to run out of the bathroom, but because his hands were over his eyes he couldn't see where he was going. He bumped into L nearly bowling her over. She tried to steady him rubbing his head and crooning soothing words into his still intact ears. She coaxed him back to the unreal edge of reality in minute and gentle stages. The lulling tones of her richly feminine voice soothed and calmed him more than the message content of the words she whispered softly to transfix him in a definite time and place. Stupid Mitch didn't even know where he was as L skillfully maneuvered him into a velvetine chair that stood by the washbowl. Mitch's head sank down onto her chest and he began to sob as she ran her hands over and around his reeling head pressing him to her as she would a frightened child. She rocked him to and fro rhythmically treating him exactly as she would a crying baby. Mitch was acting like a cry-baby.
Several minutes elapsed before Mitch found it within himself to regain his shattered composure and pull himself together. He knew the acid had done it. He realized with his sharp instinct that his eyes were not going to fall out. It was his own personal self that had fallen out. He knew it and he cursed himself.
Mitch felt acutely embarrassed at having allowed himself to fall apart in front of a stupid girl, even one that was an obviously slavish slut that paraded naked in front of a movie camera where just anyone could see her. It was disgusting. Why? Why had he broken so completely down? And in front of a nympho sex maniac to boot. How could he have done it? Damn it, he'd show her. He'd show them all.
In a blind fit of unleashed fury Mitch pushed L away from him with such tremendous force that she spilled head over heels backward and landed sprawling on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. She lay there trembling, her terror struck eyes looking up at him begging for pity. Mitch surveyed the frightened girl who lay cringing before him with an unrelenting glare.
L was in abject terror of him afraid of Mitch to the very depths of her being. She knew instinctively that she could make no effective resistance to the wild beast that Mitch had suddenly become. She knew that he would have his way, that she would have to satisfy his every whim. She licked her lips in anticipation and hoped he wouldn't kill her.
Mitch was still seated on the closed seat of the toilet and he no longer thought about taking a piss. He had more important work at hand. Snapping his fingers he called L to him as he would a dog and she crawled obediently towards him. He could hear her whimpering as he laced his fingers into her hair. Her tongue caressed his hardened penis as he guided her mouth onto it. Her lips widening to accommodate him, her hungry mouth slid slowly down upon its entire length. She gagged.
Mitch thrust his buttocks upward and simultaneously shoved her head down upon him. He wanted to cram it all the way down her cocksucking throat and he nearly succeeded. L was gagging violently as it jammed against the back of her throat. She couldn't breathe and the freely flowing juices were literally drowning her. She couldn't raise her head because Mitch was holding it down and the gurgling noises she made as she choked on his ramming spear only incited him to greater and greater cruelty.
"Suck it. Suck it, you dirty whore," Mitch gasped.
L's mouth worked his dick. Mitch's excitement and brutality had kindled a rousing fire within L's very soul. Her feverish mouth bobbed with hammering urgency as Mitch's passion infected and consumed her. His prick became her universe. There was nothing but that prick, that beautiful powerful prick. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. L ceased to exist except as an instrument of sexual exploitation. She wanted his come, wanted to feel it splashing into her mouth. Nothing else mattered and nothing else existed. She had to bring him to climax. L had to satisfy him so that she herself would be satisfied. She searched desperately for Nirvana.
Just before he would have climaxed Mitch pulled L's head from him. "You like to suck?" he asked her mockingly. "You love to suck, don't you? You'd swallow it whole if you could, wouldn't you?" he taunted. "Come on, beg!... beg to suck it," he commanded.
L, who was half kneeling, half sitting on the cold floor tiles, began to beg in a quavering, almost childlike voice. "Please, Mitch. Oh please let me suck you. I want to blow you. I want to make you come. Please, please. Let me suck you until you come. Come in my mouth. Oh please, Mitch, come in my mouth. Right now Mitch. Please, oh please, let me suck you until you come in my mouth. I have to have you. I want you. Oooh, please," she begged him.
Her pretty chin was covered with drool and her rippling breasts were heaving with passion as she tried frantically to get Mitch's prick back into her hungering mouth. Mitch was holding it and rubbing it all over her face as she tried to get her mouth on it. Mitch teased her mercilessly and each time L turned her head so that his prick could be inserted, Mitch would maneuver it away from her ravenous mouth. L was insane with desire and she continued to beg, pleading with Mitch to put it in.
Mitch pushed her away again and again but she kept coming back for more. She had to have him, she just had to. Mitch began to beat her but L barely felt the stinging blows raining down on her. All she was conscious of was Mitch's prick and she continued to beg to be allowed to suck it even as he hit her. She wanted desperately to feel his warm, thick liquid flowing into her mouth and throat.
He knocked her completely to the floor and placed his foot like a conqueror upon her stomach. She squirmed and tried to hug and kiss his feet and lower legs as they crushed down upon her. Mitch tried to squash her like a bug. She managed to wiggle out from under him and Mitch sent his foot smashing into her soft under belly.
The sight of the pitifully suffering girl, curled up on the floor clutching her abdomen and cringing in pain served only to intensify Mitch's uncontrollable compulsion towards cruelty. He wanted to make her pay. He had to make her pay. He had to make her pay in blood for having witnessed his relapse into weakness. Mitch felt he had to expunge the memory of his weakness from her mind with the force of his brutality. He pulled her roughly up from the floor and propelled her through the bathroom doorway.
"Where's a bedroom?" he demanded as L bounced off the wall directly opposite the doorway. She quickly led him down the long hallway and into a nearby bedroom. Mitch drove her before him as if she were a lamb.
"Get on the bed," he harshly ordered the submissive girl who still wanted his sex more than anything in the world.
There was a large mirror positioned directly over the bed. It was strategically stationed so that anyone looking towards it from the general area of the bed could see the entire surface of the huge zebra striped bedspread. Mitch wrung his hands in gleeful anticipation.
At the foot of the bed directly across from the enormous mirror was a set of doors. They were white with inlaid gold trim and very elegant looking. Mitch didn't really notice as he yanked open one door and found an impressive array of women's clothing. He rummaged clumsily through the overstuffed closet until he located a rather thick leather belt. He removed it from the closet and cracked it in the air as L, who was eyeing him in the mirror, shifted uneasily around on the bed. She was anxious.
"On your knees," Mitch commanded in a gruff tone.
L immediately and without hesitation tucked her knees up under her exposing her naked buttocks in a most appealing manner. Mitch stood on the side of the bed near her tempting upthrust hindquarters. Cupping her entire rear in his left hand, he slid his forefingers into her moist pussy and sent his thumb up into the hot warmth of her asshole.
L's thermal body jerked and shook violently because of the ungentle roughness of Mitch's dual insertions. She watched in the mirror as he brought the menacing belt directly above her body with his otherwise unencumbered right hand. Mitch strapped her very lightly across her tingling ass-cheeks as he massaged her twin love holes with the fingers of his left hand. She began to moan with pleasure as the fingers and the belt began to be wielded with perfect harmony and expert force. Mitch, sensing her inflamed body's arousal, deftly withdrew his hand and increased the tempo and the force of the wide stiff belt. L's body was rocking as the loud slapping sounds of leather against flesh reverberated through the room. When combined with her grimacing face and cowering body the sound of the leather and her sharp little cries were like music to Mitch's ears.
As Mitch moved farther away from the edge of the bed the arc of the singing belt grew wider causing it to slice into its victim with greater force. Each time the leather strap bit into her flesh L's pain wracked body pitched forward and her grievously exposed ass twitched and contracted. Mitch kept alternating the rhythm of the flailing leather so that L, who was watching him in the mirror, would not be able to prepare herself by contracting her ass-cheeks before the belt had actually made contact. He held back several times, waiting for her reaction before bringing the belt down upon her reddening buttocks. Mitch enjoyed watching her ass twitch whenever his feints were successful and then bring the belt down upon her just as she was relaxing. They both enjoyed the game and L began to masturbate as Mitch took another step further away allowing only the very tip of the hard belt to make contact with her tender skin.
Several times during the course of the whipping, the stinging tip of the cowhide belt would just touch the rosy-red ring of sensitive flesh enclosing her thrilling anus or the seething pink sides of her lusting pussy sending L's body into convulsions of pleasure-pain. She was in a frenzy of masochistic martyrdom as the belt repeatedly tore into her most tender flesh.
Whenever a particularly well placed blow would catch her L would cry out and leap about on the bed trying to escape the next blow. The intense pain sent L so far out into the realms of celestial bliss that she could only with difficulty return to reality. Mitch, although on a very different plane, went there too.
It was during one of these trips that Mitch grabbed her head and forced her once again to suck his prick. They both knew she was eager to suck it but Mitch went on the assumption that he'd get a higher quality blow job if L was coerced into it. As she sucked, L masturbated while Mitch worked the scourging belt over her back and shoulders. He watched her body thrash about as her hand tore at her pussy and her mouth drank from the implanted fountain of Mitch's manhood. She once again submerged herself within the pulsing vibrancy of the worshipped organ lodged in her mouth.
"Suck it, you whore. You filthy bitch. Suck it till it bleeds. Rotten Slut. Suck it while I beat you. You like the whip. You like being beaten. Come on, suck it, you slut. You disgusting whore." Mitch heaped verbal abuse on her as she sucked and writhed under the belt.
He disengaged her mouth as he felt he was about to come and twisted her over onto her back. Mitch made L beg to be whipped. She begged. He brought the belt down on her breasts and over her belly. He sent it smashing into her cunt. He grabbed her tit and twisted it violently. He sat her up with a solid punch in her stomach and sent her crashing back down with the back of his hand. He climbed up on the bed and bending her legs back upon her forced his throbbing spear up into her searing cunt. He mauled her with his hands and body. He sank his teeth into her shoulder and nearly bit off a large piece of flesh. She yielded to everything as if she was a piece of clay.
They lay exhausted on the bed. L was whimpering and rubbing her sorely abused body. SLAP! Mitch's hand streaked across her sniveling face. "Shadd'up, you whore. Shadd'up before I break your head," he snarled.
L, cowed by the fierceness of his tone, buried her face in the contours of the pillow. Mitch jumped from their bed, cursed her, slapped her penitent buttocks playfully and went looking for the bathroom. Damn if he still didn't have to piss.
As he sauntered out of the bedroom, L sank her bruised body deeper into the soothing folds of the luxuriant bedspread. A strange feeling of serenity crept over her as her fingers toyed with her ravished love-box. She was happy as she closed her eyes and put her exhausted body to sleep.
Mitch found the bathroom and stood over the toilet. The piss wouldn't come. He tightened his insides girding them up to force the urine out. They felt as if they were on fire. His entrails all screwed up, Mitch still couldn't piss. He fingered his penis absent mindedly. He thought about L. Thought about the house and how he was going to rob it. He thought about Holley. He knew he had to fuck her, too. His mind drifted from one thing to another with no particular pattern. It landed squarely on Stella!
"Stella! Stella!" He'd forgotten all about Stella. That rotten whore. That rotten mother fucker. She was going to screw up his whole life. Miserable Slut. She just had to go and die. Couldn't take it, that filthy whore. Panic swept over him as his mind was flooded with ghastly visions of apprehension and jail. They must have found her by now. Were they after him? Where could he hide? How could he escape? Where could he go? What could he do? What would they think of him when he was exposed? He pissed.
The rushing jet of water sent a burning sensation through his testicles, jarring him back to the general vicinity of the bathroom he was standing in. He watched his reflection ripple in the turbulent waters at the bottom of the toilet bowl. It felt good to piss, very good. "What the fuck," Mitch thought, "It's too late now." He'd just have to see what could be done when he got back. At least he might have a little bread. That rotten slut, why'd she have to die? Perish, that's a better word. Stella didn't die and he didn't kill her. She perished. She perished all by herself! Mitch was innocent, Stella was guilty, guilty of the crime of perishing. How could she have done that to him?
Mitch felt much better as he left the bathroom and lurched down the hall in the general direction of the music that could be faintly heard playing in the distance. As he made his way, he looked in every room taking inventory and appraising the value of everything he saw.
"Well, well, where have you been all this time?" Holley asked curiously as Mitch re-entered the den. Holley and Cathy, both nude, were sitting together on the white fur of the bearskin before the glowing fireplace. They looked very enchanting as the firelight bathed their naked flesh. Mitch had the acute feeling of having interrupted something. He wasn't sure what.
"Where's L?" Cathy asked without much interest.
Mitch mumbled incoherently and flopped down on the couch. He closed his eyes and waved his hand in a signal he wished not to be disturbed.
"Wow! Your boyfriend's really grouchy. Is he always that way?" Holley asked Cathy. She didn't bother to answer and the two girls turned their attention back to themselves as Mitch dropped into a hazy sleep on the fringes of reality. The very last thing he thought of before sleep overtook him was Stella's violated body hurtling through space.
He could hear their voices. Whose voices? Whose voices? They were coming! Coming! Coming for him. No! No! He didn't do it. He didn't. Didn't. Do it. Didn't do it. Didn't mean to do it. Didn't mean. Didn't mean to do it. Yes, yes. Did mean. Did do it. No! No! Didn't do it. Didn't mean to do it. Didn't do it. Didn't happen. Voices! Voices! Did it, did it, do it, do it, do it. DO It. DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! Mitch awoke with heart stopping suddenness.
Holley's husky voice was groaning, crooning "Oh, do it. Do it, oh, do it to me. Oh, oh, do it, do it, do it," as Cathy was between her legs eating her and jamming something or other into Holley's ass hole. They'd woke Mitch up with the sounds they were making and for an instant, Mitch thought of killing them both. He would have, but he was too tired to get up off the couch. He just lay there and watched them.
Holley's body was shivering from head to foot. Her buttocks pinched themselves tightly around a thick, black object that protruded from her rectum. Cathy plunged it deeper and deeper into Holley's quivering body while her tongue smothered Holley's palpitating vagina with sloppy wet kisses. Holley's hands seemed glued to Cathy's head as she pushed her quaking body up into her face. She kept moaning "Do it. Do it." over and over as Cathy worked the black shaft and her wet tongue ever deeper into Holley's arched body. It was quite a sight. The firelight played over their bodies and the bearskin added immeasurably to the erotic effect of the sexual games. Mitch relented and decided not to kill them.
He roused himself from the comfortable couch and ambled over to the front paw of the rug. Holley watched him approach but her mind was too preoccupied with the pleasures of passion to acknowledge his presence. Cathy couldn't see him. He watched the two girls for fifteen or twenty minutes changing vantage points frequently so as to not miss anything. As he moved about to change perspective, both girls were aware of being watched. It only served to enhance their arousal. They made no effort to draw Mitch into their heated lovemaking being content to merely have him watch. They even began to perform especially for him.
Mitch eventually became bored by their antics and began to order them about, telling them in vulgar specifics what they were to do to one another. He kept physically apart from them as they followed his directives to the very letter. After putting them through everything he could think of he staged a grand finale by having them spank one another soundly. After both their asses were beet red, Mitch, satisfied that he'd done a good job, returned to the couch and fell fast asleep as the two girls licked and kissed his body.
CHAPTER TEN
It was daylight before Mitch awakened from his deep and dreamless sleep. He was still on the couch but a blanket had been thrown over him and the room was now deserted. The room itself looked vastly different than it had the night before. The dying embers in the fireplace were almost out. The room was totally devoid of spirit or cheer. It was downright gloomy. He tried to shake the lethargic remnants of sleep from his brain.
Mitch felt strangely heavy. His head refused to clear. The murkiness clouding him seemed to be lodged deeper than he could ever reach to exercise it. "Where is everyone?" he asked himself. No sounds of life could be heard. The house was oppressively quiet.
Mitch crossed the room and opened one of two glass doors that led to a small outside balcony. Bird chatter deafened him as the cool early morning air invigorated and refreshed him. On the lawn stretched out beneath him, Mitch caught sight of a rabbit bounding along as if on some important errand. He thought of the White Rabbit in Alice In Wonderland and a smile crept across his scowling face. How he wished he could step through the looking glass and into another world. He was damn tired of the one he was in.
Well, here he was, stuck here. Stranded in a world of senseless games and meaningless mediocrity. His only escapes were sex, drugs, and violence. He was tired of all three. "What the fuck was there to do in this world?" he wondered. Ever since he was very little the world had confused and frightened him. He had reacted by becoming tougher and harder than anyone else, inuring his soul to the hardships and injustices that had always surrounded him. He had managed by sheer force of will to abolish every soft and tender emotion which ever assaulted him.
Well, at least it was a new day. It might be one of the last, but it was new and as yet unspoiled. He might just as well make use of it. Yes, why not make the best possible use of it. Why not really live while he still had some time? Why not explode with vital life? Yes, use every minute of it. Use every second of every minute of every hour of every day for the whole rest of his life, starting today. Why not? He had nothing to lose, he'd already blown everything else.
He took a few deep breaths of the crisp air, shouted an obscenity into the blazing newly risen sun, turned abruptly on his heel and stomped back into the house. He began to shout. He wanted company. He wanted breakfast. He wanted life.
"Rise up. Rise up and come alive," he shouted at the top of his lungs as he tromped through the still sleeping house. He looked in this room and that as he traveled along looking for somebody; anybody!
He finally found the three girls huddled together in one of the upstairs bedrooms. "Get up! Get up!" he screamed at them. He leaped on the bed as the three surprised girls tried to unscramble their sleep induced confusion.
Holley was the first to pinpoint her senses and the immediate annoyance. "Get off the bed, you crazy mother fucker," she screamed at him. "Get off the bed or I'll call the cops," she said without thinking. Cops were the very last thing she was in any mood to see. "Get off this bed or I'll, I'll... " She searched her considerable repertoire for an appropriately dire threat. There was none. "I'll castrate you, you mother fucker," she blurted.
Mitch roared with good-natured laughter. "You gonna bite it off and swallow it while you're blowin' me?" he taunted her. Cathy and L were more or less silent during the exchange although they both grumbled considerably as they wriggled around on the bed trying to avoid Mitch's dancing feet.
He jumped from the oversized bed to the richly carpeted floor. "Get up! Get up, you lazy bitches," he yelled at them jubilantly. He pulled Holley, who was on the outside, down onto the floor.
She struggled with him valiantly but landed, squarely on her rear, with a loud and jarring thud. She cursed him mightily with a vile oath but Mitch was already dragging Cathy out of the sanctuary of the still warm bed. She fell kicking and protesting Mitch's gross inhumanity in an attractive heap beside Holley's half-risen form. The sudden arrival of Cathy's flailing body caught Holley off balance and sent her reeling back down to the floor. L climbed hurriedly out of the far side of the bed, her small hands raised into the air as a signal of her surrender.
Mitch sat down on the bed above Holley and Cathy, who were still trying to regain their feet, and beckoned L to join him. As she scrambled across the bed to join him, Mitch ordered Holley and Cathy to go and fix breakfast. Cathy quickly obeyed but Holley refused.
"Who the hell you think you're talking to?" she demanded.
Mitch stood up and cocked his fist. Holley immediately changed her tone from one of stubborn belligerence to one of humble supplication. Here before her was a real man, she thought, dropping to her knees.
"Please let me stay. I'm sorry. Please let me stay here with you. I'll be good. I promise. I'll be good, please let me stay," she begged him as she crawled on her hands and knees to where he was standing. "Please, oh please," she whimpered as she cupped Mitch's balls with both her hands and centered her mouth over his jutting prick.
Mitch said nothing as Holley's ripe lips closed softly around his penis and L, who was kneeling on the bed, leaned her body outward and began licking and kissing Mitch's buttocks. Holley sucked Mitch's great cock with admirable abandon, savoring the juices of her labors with wonder. Her tongue was extremely imaginative and she applied it with tremendous enthusiasm. L was also more than equal to her chosen chore. She had an unquenchable appetite. She didn't just lick and kiss Mitch's ass, she adored and paid homage to it.
After a few moments Mitch decided to rearrange the scene. He ordered L to quit licking his ass and lie down on the bed face up. She just kept right on lapping, she hadn't heard him in her passion. He told Holley to stop sucking, she also ignored him. He was about to climax and he didn't want to. He wanted to live a little more. He slapped Holley and disengaged himself from her vampiric mouth and deprived L of his rear end. He repeated his earlier instruction to L, who quickly complied by flipping eagerly onto her back as Holley remained heartbroken on her knees before Mitch's rigid prick.
Mitch straddled L's face so that his ass covered it completely, so completely that L could scarcely breathe. He had Holley kneel over L's outstretched legs and allowed her to resume sucking his prodigious projectile as L raised one knee up between Holley's legs. L made contact with Holley's cunt as she simultaneously reached her arm around and grasped the root of Mitch's dick just below the working mouth of Holley. L tried to work her hand in unison with Holley's pumping head and mouth, following Holley's lips as they traversed the length of Mitch's shaft. Her own mouth and tongue covered Mitch's ass, her tongue darting into his bunghole as her knee rubbed Holley's pussy. Holley's fingers sought out and penetrated L's already sopping wet and still lubricating vulva. The three of them went at it in earnest and after Mitch had drained himself by squirting his semen into Holley's willing mouth, he removed himself and allowed the girls to fuck one another while their merged mouths passed his man-juice back and forth between them.
"Breakfast's ready!" Cathy's voice drifted up to them from downstairs.
Mitch waited patiently for Holley and L to untangle and then accompanied them into the long hallway that ended with the stairway. Holley dropped off to go into the bathroom. L didn't bother. She didn't want to let Mitch out of her sight. They arrived in the kitchen holding hands and giggling like naughty schoolchildren. Cathy wasn't in the least annoyed as they both ignored her and sat down to a table liberally heaped with steaming food.
Cathy didn't care that Mitch didn't notice her. She was happy because he was happy. That was all she really needed. She loved him unselfishly, body and soul. She lived in him and through him. She had no other reason to exist.
After a few satisfying mouthfuls of the hot food, Mitch realized that Cathy was wearing an apron that left all of her sexual apparatus clearly visible. He contemplated her lush ripe body as he ate. "Cathy's really beautiful," he thought to himself and he wondered why he so seldom noticed how beautiful she really was. In a rare moment of tenderness he complimented Cathy on both the high quality of the food and upon her striking appearance.
Cathy, taken aback by the unusual sentiments, hoped Mitch was not sick or something. She hoped fervently that this was not another prelude to Mitch's fantasy trips.
Holley entered, still undressed, and positioned herself directly in front of a large tray piled to overflowing with toast, pancakes, bacon, and eggs.
"Where's the grapefruit?" she demanded of Cathy. "I want grapefruit!" she said emphatically. "Why didn't you prepare any grapefruits? I always have grapefruit in the morning." Her tone was harsh and stern. "What kind of a stupid girl are you anyway? Don't you know enough to make grapefruit? What kind of a girl have you got there, Mitch? Doesn't even know enough to prepare grapefruit."
Mitch, noting Cathy's apprehensive glances at him, ordered her to get some grapefruit and bring them to him. He seemed totally emotionless.
"I'd beat the piss out of her for that if I were you," Holley told him. She really wanted to goad Mitch into beating Cathy. The grapefruits didn't mean a damn thing to her. She wanted Cathy to have a beating and she wanted Mitch to do it. She didn't know why.
but she knew she wanted it.
When Cathy returned to the table with a half-dozen neatly sliced grapefruits, she expected the worst. She expected a beating, if not from Mitch, then surely from Holley. She trembled as Mitch calmly ordered her to place the grapefruit before Holley. Holley glared at her as she set them down. Mitch got up very slowly from his chair.
"Well, what are you waiting for. Go on and eat them. Eat them all, you pig!" Mitch snarled at Holley.
Cathy was overjoyed by Mitch's seeming vindication of her while Holley's eyes flared in anger. Aghast and confused by Mitch's hostility and the ruination of her plan to have Cathy beaten, Holley picked up the tray and heaved it in Mitch's direction, scattering the intended repast not only on Mitch's person but upon everyone present.
Mitch reacted like an enraged bull. Holley realized, too late, that she had gone too far. With a single bone jarring yank, Mitch snatched the cowering girl from her perch and hoisted her into the air. His balled fists covered her entire body with massive blows. Blood spurted from her mouth and nose. She was screaming in terror as Mitch, sparing no part of her body, relentlessly pummelled her. He pounded her until she was as yielding as hot wax. Her body was as limp as a rag doll's as Mitch knelt over her and smashed the back of her head into the cold hard tiles of the kitchen floor. The horrible picture of his insanely contorted face was the last thing she saw as she finally lapsed into merciful unconsciousness.
She'd ruined his day. She had ruined his whole new beautiful day. The dirty bitch. He'd kill her for that. She'd ruined his whole concept of his new day. She'd pay for that. She'd pay and she'd pay plenty. Mitch made a conscious and irreversible decision to kill her. He was going to kill her and have fun doing it. He began to think of the many ways he could do it.
Cathy and L stood staring at the bloody scene before them. Transfixed by terror, they made no move, no effort to help Mitch's unfortunate victim as she lay under him. Mitch was just calmly sitting on top of Holley's listless body. He wasn't doing anything, nothing at all. He had a far away and dreamy look in his eyes.
Tears were streaming down L's face and she didn't dare to make a single move. Cathy was also scared but she approached Mitch cautiously from behind and placed her hands gently on his head. She wanted to bring him back, to return him to his senses. "Mitch. Mitch," she crooned softly.
Mitch turned on her savagely. She had interrupted his vision of Holley's body hanging from a meat-hook like a side of beef in a butcher store. He was furious. He pounded her with his fists as L looked on in helpless terror. Cathy made futile efforts to defend herself against the force of Mitch's flailing hands. He kicked her and smashed her into the wall. Cathy bounced off and Mitch picked her up into the air and threw her completely over the kitchen table. In a seething rage, his mind beyond reach or control, he began to choke her. She sobbed and pleaded for mercy but no longer tried to defend or save herself. Her head rolled to one side as Mitch, realizing for the first time since he'd attacked her that it was Cathy, released his grip on her throat. He had no wish to kill Cathy. She hadn't done anything.
L, finding her legs, ran from the room. Mitch, seeing her exit, pursued her and brought her down with a well executed flying tackle in the dining room. They struggled briefly, but L was no match for the street fighting outlaw. She sought to save herself by offering to do anything if he would spare her and let her live. She thought Holley was dead and Cathy either dead or very near it. She had never been exposed to anything like it before and she was totally devastated by it.
Mitch, exulting in the female's obvious dread of him, thought about killing her but decided that she might come in handy. She was too good in bed for him to kill her. He made her tremble by pretending that he intended to kill her. She made one outrageous offer after another in an attempt to interest him in sex and prolong her life. The idea of having sex with him appealed to her, no matter what form it might assume. L would much prefer to die having sex than to be strangled unceremoniously under the dining room table. She asked Mitch very seriously if he would have sex with her if he decided to strangle her on the spot. Mitch laughed at her and pulled her to her feet.
L followed him as meekly as would a lamb being led to slaughter by the Judas goat. Her body shook uncontrollably. She felt giddy and nauseous as she entered the kitchen and caught sight of the two battered girls lying on the floor in grotesque positions.
Holley was absolutely motionless, but Cathy, although her body remained inert, was sobbing softly. Mitch bent down and helped her up and into a chair. The look in her eyes said unmistakably that she forgave him. She could forgive him anything. Mitch, looking deep into her reddened and watery eyes, saw very clearly that he could do anything he wanted to do to her. Even if he killed her, Cathy would forgive him. She'd gladly kill herself if it would make Mitch happy. She kissed his belly as Mitch turned his attention to Holley's dormant form.
"Get some rope," he ordered L who was simply standing there waiting for direction. "We're going to tie Holley up," Mitch added as she hastened to obey. She didn't understand why Mitch should want to tie up a dead person, but she wasn't about to argue with him. Mitch followed her to make sure she didn't try to get help or run away. He knew that Cathy would stay put in the kitchen. After some diligent searching, they found some heavy rope and returned to the kitchen.
Mitch bound Holley's wrists and ankles with the thick rope and dragged her out of the kitchen by her feet. He took her into the den, the same room where they'd stripped and watched the previous night's movies. L and Cathy followed Mitch and their hog-tied sister into the room very timidly. They were afraid. Mitch was not himself and they were unsure of what he was planning to do. He seemed completely detached, almost trancelike. His eyes had a half vacant and faraway glint. Mitch dragged his heavy burden without seeming to be aware of his surroundings. He had no difficulty at all as he dumped Holley's body in front of the fireplace. He stood silently over her quiet body for a long time. He reinforced his decision to kill her.
Mitch ordered L to fetch some water and she promptly left the room. He didn't bother to go with her since he was positive that she was too frightened to do anything or call for help. He had Cathy assist him in Holley's preparation without informing her as to his intentions. As there was no fire in the fireplace, Mitch set about to build one while his mind examined the pros and cons of the various methods that might be utilized to bring about Holley's death. Above all, he wanted it to be slow and painful. He weighed the possibilities of alternate plans of action as he tinkered with the fire and Cathy positioned Holley's body for the coming ordeal. As L returned with water, Mitch flashed that he'd probably have to destroy her also. While Cathy could be relied upon to help and keep quiet, L would undoubtedly go to the police. Mitch didn't really want to kill her but if he had to, he would. He'd wait and see how it went. Maybe she could be spared.
"Wake her up," Mitch commanded and after a few moments of intense effort, Cathy and L managed to revive the girl by slapping her face and pouring the water over and into her. Holley came to, sputtering obscenities, in complete confusion as to what had happened or what was going on. She didn't know how she had gotten into the den. The last thing she could remember was Mitch, insane with rage, battering her head against the floor. Her head still hurt like hell.
"Shut up," Mitch told her as he continued to manufacture fire by engineering the logs he tossed into the firepit.
Holley, fully conscious, struggled vainly against her bonds and pleaded with the other girls to let her go. When this failed, she demanded to be released. She began to scream to be untied immediately.
"Shut her up," Mitch ordered.
Cathy picked up a blouse from the pile of clothes that had been left scattered where they'd been shed the night before. She ripped it into strips and fashioned it expertly into a gag. L assisted Cathy by holding Holley's tossing incompliant head still while Cathy inserted the gag. L felt like a traitor but she was too afraid to do anything else.
Holley continued to twist and squirm about on the floor as Mitch approached and stood over her with a burning firebrand in one hand. The smouldering tip was red hot. He passed it back and forth over her body about one quarter of an inch from her flesh never allowing it to actually come in contact. Holley wriggled to avoid it. Her voice was not completely baffled by the gag and her muffled cries made Mitch horny. His prick jutted prominently out in erection. He threw the burning stick away and slammed his foot into her side.
She wrenched her body in agony as Mitch's foot found her tenderest places again and again. The unclad girl writhed about like a fish floundering out of water. Mitch would pause, then bring his foot down again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tiring of this sport, Mitch commanded L and Cathy to sexually arouse his bruised and suffering victim. His two accomplices teased their female counterpart's sex organs with tongue and fingers. They tried their very best to make Holley insane with passion and she soon began to respond. Because of L's and Cathy's quite considerable expertise, Holley was groaning and trying to maneuver her hot and juicing fur-box into the most exposed position for the probing fingers and tongues which delightfully accosted her. Her eyes were half closed and she was going mad with resistless desire as Cathy and L deliberately and purposefully tormented her insatiable capacity for sex.
Mitch ripped the gag from her mouth and knelt beside her. He led the panting girl's mouth into his bulging membrane. Holley began to suck it furiously as Cathy's tongue finally sank deep into her succulent and lusting snatch. In spite of her hatred of Mitch, and the suffering she'd been forced to submit to at his hands, Holley simply couldn't resist the overwhelming desire to taste his come. Bound and tied on the floor, two girls licking and kissing her abused body. Holley sucked Mitch's cock with a passion that was enhanced by her debased position of grovelling subservience to his whims and caprices.
"Suck it, you bitch. Suck it good, 'cause when you're done I'm going to kill you."
Holley didn't believe him and all she could think of was her own body and Mitch's throbbing dick. As she drank from the fountain of his manhood, she felt his manly power coursing through her pain and passion wrecked body. He ejaculated a large supply of his semen into her thirsty mouth and she gulped it hungrily down. As she swallowed, she had a tremendous orgasm that left her trembling for several long moments after Mitch had withdrawn. She rested as Mitch waved L and Cathy away from her slack and shaking body.
Mitch procured his belt from among the piles of clothes strewn about the room. He stood quietly over the exhausted and unsuspecting girl. Holley had her eyes closed and her face was a mask of tranquil serenity. It wasn't until she'd calmed her body that the belt caught her directly in the labium. She arched her body upward from the floor in a surfeit of intense pain. The belt, buckle end, returned swiftly to bite into her abdomen and send her screaming back to the floor. Terrified out of her wits by the sudden and vicious attack, she screamed in agony and begged for pity. The slicing belt only came faster and faster and with ever increasing force as Mitch ignored her pleas.
"S-Stop it. S-Stop it right now. L-Leave h-her alone," L's quavering voice came from behind him.
Mitch turned to confront her with murder written in his eyes. He was greeted by a small, .25 caliber automatic pistol, cocked and pointed at his head. L's hands were shaking but she meant business. Without thinking, M itch lashed out with the belt and instantaneously charged her, throwing L off balance with the suddenness of his reaction. She managed to fire but the bullet whistled harmlessly past Mitch's head and into the wall. It splintered the wood as it landed with a dull thudding noise in the wall of the lavish room. It made a tiny black hole surrounded by powder marks.
Mitch's right hand cracked into L's head before she had a chance to rejoin her balance. There would be no second chance as Mitch wrested the gun from her hand and tossed it to Cathy. He cursed and literally propelled L through the air as he pounded her body with his angry fists. He was incensed by her seeming audacity. She had actually tried to kill him. Of all the mother fucking nerve!
"Get more rope," he yelled at Cathy.
"Where is it?" she asked plaintively, glad that Mitch was still alive.
"Look for it, you stupid slit!" Mitch roared back at her.
He held the limp and unresisting L by the hair, dragging her about the room with him as he wandered about without any apparent purpose. Holley was still screaming so he reinserted the gag in her mouth. Cathy returned with several pieces of rope.
"What're ya gonna do?" she asked Mitch apprehensively. Cathy was just as frightened as either of the two girls lying side by side on the floor.
"First I'm gonna whip the shit out of them. Help me turn them over."
Cathy helped Mitch turn L and Holley on their faces. She didn't want any part of what was happening, but she felt she had no choice. She had no desire to be thrown on the floor with the others. If she protested that was exactly where she would end up and she knew it. The gun she still had was absolutely of no use whatsoever. She could never bring herself to shoot Mitch. She loved him much too much for that. She just had to go along with him, no matter what.
Mitch, standing alongside the prone and struggling girls, began to whip their asses with the heavy buckle end of his wide garrison belt. He'd hit one, then the other, and then both at once tearing the flesh off and cutting deeply into their ass-cheeks with unbounded brutality. Crimson rivulets of blood trickled onto the floor as he gouged their buttocks without pity. His victims' half-throttled screams filled the air as the biting buckle rent their cringing flesh.
His arm sore, Mitch paused long enough to turn the girls over again and splash water on them. He didn't want them to pass out. He wanted them to feel every lash. He removed the gags and listened with glee to their pleading wails for mercy. They both offered to do anything, anything he wanted if he would only spare them. The girls were desperate to escape further beating. Mitch snickered at their displays of cowardice. He almost decided to untie them so he could put them through their paces when he changed his mind. He smashed the buckle across their breasts, bellies and into their cunts sending the girls into fits of useless struggling and screaming. They thrashed about in mortal panic, trying desperately to avoid the stinging lacerating tip of the cold steel belt buckle as it tore into their burning flesh. There was no escape.
The sight of the two women fighting the tight bonds in their frantic efforts to avoid the inflamed tip of the fiery lash, instilled Mitch with a feeling of unrestricted power. He could do anything he wanted to them. There was no one to stop or hinder him. The girls were totally at his mercy. He had to stop whipping them as gales of mirthful laughter swept over and consumed him. He couldn't control it. His sides were bursting as he fell and rolled on the floor laughing uproariously at the girl's plight.
He could do anything he wanted to. He was God. He was omnipotent. He was God and could do anything he wanted. The thought that he was God and could do anything he wanted except stop laughing was in itself funny to him. He laughed and laughed at the contradiction. He was out of breath and choking before he finally overcame himself. It was still funny.
He lifted Holley up off the floor and carried her to an upstairs bathroom. Placing her strapped and bleeding body into the oversized tub, he turned the hot water spigot on full blast. Thick clouds of steam rose into the air as the jet of scalding hot water cascaded from the faucet head. His hapless victim screamed as the water splashed and rose all around her. She pleaded with Mitch to let her out as he laughed at her. Her mind balked and she fainted before the water was even halfway up her beaten, ravaged body. Mitch lifted her from the tub and carried her into a bedroom where he tossed her unconscious body onto the bed. He went back downstairs to fetch L.
L was lying face up, battered and bleeding. She looked up at Mitch with wide and piercing eyes that cried out from the very depths of her soul for pity. Her voice cracked and barely audible, she implored Mitch to spare her. Mitch said he would spare her if she would drink his piss and she nodded her head eagerly. He knelt besides her face and she took his organ into her mouth. He pissed.
"Now you need to take a bath," he told her as his urine dribbled from the corners of her mouth. He picked her up and carried her upstairs into the steam filled bathroom. L gasped in horror when she saw the bathtub was filled three quarters of the way up with scalding hot water.
"Oh no, please. You promised. Please don't. Please. PLEASE!" she screamed as Mitch held her above the water. He dipped her body into the water twice before he finally just released it, allowing it to be immersed in the swirling, seething, near boiling hot water. She was gurgling water as she tried to scream. Her body was lobster red as she sank to the bottom of the tub and thrashed about like an eel. In a very few and agonizing seconds, her tormented body ceased to function. She was beyond pain. She was dead. Mitch watched her until the end and then turned and went into the bedroom where Holley was lying on the bed. He didn't even bother to shut off the still running water.
He called for Cathy, who'd remained downstairs, to come and join him in the bedroom. Holley, fully conscious, was lying trussed up and had heard L's pathetic screaming. She asked Mitch what he'd done with her but Mitch made no reply. Instead, he untied her and then rearranged the ropes until she was again tied, only this time, she was tied securely to the bed face up and in spread eagle fashion. Her legs were spread so wide that they cramped as Mitch made fast the bindings. Holley passed out and Mitch went into the bathroom to get water. He checked on L, who was lying dead at the bottom of the tub. She was lying face up and the look of sheer horror frozen on her face made Mitch shudder with pleasure. He had really given it to her. He had taught her the ultimate lesson. He shut off the overflowing water and drew some cold water from the other tap. He was humming to himself as he returned to the bedroom and used the water to revive Holley.
"Eat her," he ordered Cathy to give her something to do.
As Cathy climbed onto the bed between Holley's outstretched legs, Mitch unplugged the light by the bed and tore the wire from the base of the lamp. He very carefully parted the cord, stripping them of their rubber coverings to reveal the tips of the two copper wires. Holley's eyes followed his every movement in terrible anticipation of his intention. She couldn't even feel Cathy's tongue working inside her torn and bleeding vagina as she repeatedly asked Mitch what he was going to do. Her pain was already immense and she was sure she was doomed to die even if Mitch did nothing else.
"What is he doing?" she wondered to herself as she watched him approach with the wires in his hands.
Mitch had plugged the wire back into its original socket and had the bare wires in his hands. He was especially careful to hold them around the insulation so as not to get shocked. Cathy was engrossed in her task so Mitch didn't bother to warn her. Holley's eyes grew wide with terror and her mouth open in a soundless scream as Mitch slowly, very slowly, lowered the bare wires until they made contact with the bare flesh of her taut nipples. She and Cathy were both victims of the tremendous surge of power unleashed by the completion of the electrical circuit of which they had become an integral part. Cathy couldn't disengage her mouth for almost a full second as the current passed through her body.
Holley's body grew rigid and seemed to rise vertically off the surface of the bed in spite of the restraining ropes.
Cathy jumped from the bed, dazed and shaken. There was no escape for Holley. Mitch picked the wires up, allowing her a short respite, only so that he could watch the horror in her eyes as he lowered them slowly down again. He did this over and over and each time, he left them on her nipples a little longer.
Finally, becoming bored by her lessening reactions, he unplugged the wires, shoved them carefully up into her cunt, and plugged them in again. Holley screamed as the current pulsed into her body. Mitch took Cathy by the hand and led her downstairs. He didn't bother to unplug the wire.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The couple rode back to New York in Holley's sleek Continental in complete silence. Mitch felt good. He felt clean. He felt relieved and strangely satisfied. He knew only very vaguely that he had killed both Holley and L. He didn't think about them. He only thought of how good and clean he felt. Their deaths had purified and cleansed him. Their sufferings had elevated him to godlike stature. Mitch was happy and invincible. He felt secure for the first time in many, many years. He was no longer afraid.
There was one little detail that had to be straightened out, though, one more thing that Mitch had to do before he could feel secure and safe in the knowledge that he was God and nothing could hurt him. One little thing...
"Where we goin', Mitch?" Cathy asked, as he wheeled the car off onto an overgrown dirt road. "Where we goin', huh?"
"We're going to make it, kid. We're going to really make it."
Cathy snuggled up against him, purring, as Mitch banged and slammed the big car through ruts and bumps and over fallen logs with no regard for it at all. He figured the car could take it. He wouldn't need it, after this. The road got worse as they drove around several curves. They'd gone about three miles when they finally lost it altogether in the weeds and undergrowth. The silence was complete, when Mitch turned off the engine.
"Take your clothes off," he said.
Cathy complied eagerly, slipping her sweater up over her head. Mitch pulled out his Zippo lighter and flicked it on and off, thinking that some secret might be hidden in the blue and yellow flame that he could find out if he only stared long and hard enough.
"I'm ready, Mitch," said Cathy, sitting back on the seat, spreading her legs and exposing her big, hairy cunt.
That's what he didn't like about women, he realized: they had cunts. Cunts were disgusting. He'd been inside one of those things once, trapped inside it, floating in a mixture of blood and goo and slime, helpless, and these damned broads were always trying to get him back inside of them. Ugh! They smelled like fish, and they were all wet and soft, and they pissed out of them. What could possibly be more disgusting?
"What's the matter, Mitch?" asked Cathy, anxiously searching his face for a sign.
"Your cunt makes me sick," said Mitch. "It smells like old fish."
Cathy pressed her legs together. She lowered her head, sobbing. That was another reason he didn't like them. They were illogical. You made a simple statement of fact, and they took it personally.
"Thank God you got a mouth and an asshole," said Mitch, trying to patch it up slightly.
Cathy smiled, brushing the tears out of her eyes. "Thanks, Mitch," she said. "I thought maybe you didn't love me no more. You want to fuck me in the ass?"
"No," he said, getting out of the car and slamming the door. He lit a joint and smoked it for a while, laboriously demolishing an anthill with the toe of his boot and watching the ants freak out. That was the world. He was God, and that was the world. Cathy got out and came up beside him, pressing her nude body against his muscular arm. God didn't need no nude broads rubbing their smelly cunts against his jeans when He was destroying the world. He knocked her down with a short, savage chop to the jaw.
She lay there for a while, looking up at him with glazed, slightly unfocused eyes, rubbing her jaw.
"You want I should blow you?" she asked.
"No," said Mitch, and he gave her a vicious kick with his boot, right in that smelly cunt of hers. It made a squishy noise. Cathy tried to scream, but her lungs seemed paralyzed. She opened her mouth wide, heaving convulsively, and then she threw up, disgusting him even more.
He opened the trunk of the car. He found just what he needed. Everything seemed to be going right for him today. Holley apparently had carried her torture equipment around with her, so she wouldn't get caught short if the opportunity to torture somebody came up. She had chains and whips, and a big thick rope, and some pieces of clothesline of varying lengths. Mitch wouldn't need anything more exotic than the rope and the clothesline--and, he decided, the bumper jack.
He took these things back to Cathy and bound her arms securely behind her. He tied the rope tightly around her waist, and tied the other end of it to the bumper of Holley's big Lincoln. Then he tied the bumper jack to her right ankle. There was no point in making things too easy for her.
She was out cold while all this was going on. Blood ran out of her cunt, and she lay in her own puke, another example of how disgusting broads could be, he reflected. He took out his Zippo and held it under one of her strawberry red nipples. Her eyelids fluttered. She woke up fast. She screamed and screamed, trying to writhe away from the flame that was .blistering her tit, turning it black. Mitch finally flicked it closed. No point in wasting lighter fluid.
He pulled his cock out of his pants and stood over her. He spread his booted feet wide over her squirming body and began to jerk off. Nothing but the pure, clean air was good enough and clean enough to receive his seed. He didn't need to stick it in smelly cunts, or mouths, or assholes. He jerked it faster and faster, and finally it jetted out an arc of ropy semen that splashed onto Cathy's bosom and ran down her belly.
"There, kid," he said, zipping his pants. "That's all you're going to get."
"Mitch--Mitch--what are you doing? It's me, Cathy--remember? I'm your girl, Mitch, I love you, I helped you back there, I'll do anything you say, go anywhere you want--Mitch, for God's sake, DON'T DO THIS! I LOVE YOU!"
Mitch slammed the door and turned on the air conditioning to drown out her noise. He looped the car around and started off down the road at a fast clip. The car banged and slammed violently at first, then suddenly all was calm.
Mitch smiled serenely. No car could get the best of old Mitch, who was really God in disguise.
