It is now fifteen or sixteen years since Gregorio Quintero-the Count de Cordera-died in an Italian prison at the age of thirty-one.
He had been sentenced to life imprisonment for the crime of murder, but Quintero served only seven years before death freed him from his tormented longing and love for the beautiful Alyse Woodwin-Chalfont. At some point during those seven years of imprisonment, Quintero authored the book you now have before you, the lurid and controversial biography of Lady Chal-font's unknown early years, but mainly a graphic and detailed account of her shocking life in Italy, and her torrid love affair with the handsome Spanish nobleman, whose life she destroyed.
I first met the Lady Chalfont at a party honoring her husband, Lord Percival Malcolm Chalfont. He returned to England from America, where for four years he had held a political post in Washington, D.C. Although Lady Chalfont had not as yet been introduced into London society, rumors and newspaper reports of her beauty and charm, of her elaborate and extraordinary parties and dinners had preceded her arrival. Little else was known about this American beauty except that she came from a respectable and religious family, the Woodwins of Boston, Massachusetts, and that she had captured the heart and fancy of the only son of one of England's most honored noblemen.
I recall there was a great deal of anxiety about her in London circles, almost as great as the widespread compulsion to meet her and satisfy one's curiosity. Being a newspaper publisher, I readily admit my anticipation at having a personal audience with her and deciding for myself if she had the dignity and character worthy of the name Chalfont.
In all fairness I must here establish that from the beginning Alyse Woodwin-Chalfont conducted herself as a woman of purity and purpose, quickly winning the respect and love of the British people. During her years as mistress of Chalfont Castle there was never any question about her right to be there. Her life seemed devoted to creating happiness and doing good charitable deeds for others, when she was not fulfilling her duties as a wife and a mother. There was only one child, a son, remarkably handsome and well behaved child, on whom a great deal of affection was lavished. Retaining her youthful beauty through her early forties, Lady Chalfont never gave the slightest cause for comment regarding her public conduct, nor was there a breath of scandal about her private life at any time, which is why the discovery of this manuscript is all the more shocking.
During the winter of 1857 I was summoned to Rome and to the prison cell of Gregorio Quintero, where I interviewed him on his death bed. Wretched and tearful, his life broken and wasted, he confessed to me that he had known and loved the now prominent Alyse Woodwin-Chalfont, and had in fact killed for her. Such an admission seemed so incongruous, at first I assumed it must be the ramblings of a delirious mind. As he told me more, however, there was a ring of truth in his words, a strange mixture of bitterness and compassion.
Before dying of tuberculosis, Quintero presented to me the manuscript, his first and only literary work, and extracted from me a promise that it would be published, regardless of the consequences. He said he had given a son to Alyse Woodwin and that it was his wish that the boy bear his true name and title.
Without having first approved the contents of the manuscript, I gave my word to a dying man. There was no time to do otherwise. My assurance that the manuscript would be published seemed to ease Quintero's conscience. His final words to me were these: "Alyse was wrapped up in all my dreams of what was right and beautiful. I had such visions of what ought to be ... of what may have been. My love for Alyse was a fantasy I attribute to my youth. The manuscript I now present to you, sir, is the tragic reality of an over-indulgent love."
On my way back to England, I read Quintero's manuscript. To say I was shocked out of my wits would be an understatement. The more I read, however, the more fascinated I became with the way in which Quintero recounted one licentious act after another, citing new depravities and perversions that an ordinary man would not dare to consider, let alone suggest to any lady ... even a woman of the streets.
The sexual liaisons between Quintero and Lady Chalfont were too graphic to be merely the figment of Quintero's imagination, and I suddenly realized the heart of this man-indeed his very existence-was laid bare on the pages of this manuscript. The work deserved more than one reader.
By the time I arrived back in London, I was prepared to form a new publishing company separate and apart from my newspaper, for the express purpose of printing a limited edition of Quintero's manuscript. It was a daring challenge that presented many problems. Lady Chalfont herself was paramount to all others. As much as I disliked the idea of dishonoring a lady's good name, I reminded myself that I was first a newspaper man and secondly a gentleman. To protect Lady Chalfont, I considered taking her name out of the manuscript and replacing it with a fictitious one, but this only destroyed the impact for the reader, who would then be reading fiction and not a true biography.
What I eventually decided, I consider to be just and honorable. I informed Lady Chalfont of the existence of the manuscript, asked her to read it and tell me if any of it was true. Gracious and composed as always, she agreed, although I detected a slight tremor in her voice when she admitted having known the Count de Cordera. Preserving the original under lock and key, I presented Lady Chalfont with a copy, assuring her that it was the only existing copy, and that until I heard from her the matter would be kept in the strictest of confidence.
A week passed before I heard from Lady Chalfont. Her letter informed me that she had read the manuscript and bade me to visit her over the following weekend. Lord Chalfont would be abroad on business, she went on to explain, and assured me that we would be able to discuss the matter privately and in detail without interruptions.
I immediately presumed that Lady Chalfont had destroyed the manuscript and was prepared to buy my silence. This, however, was not the case. She completely disarmed me upon our greeting by returning the manuscript to me and thanking me for allowing her to read it.
"You wish to know if it is true?" she said nervously, her voice almost choked off. "It is! Every word of it." Desperately she fought to hold back tears. "Gregory was my only true love. I do not consider what he has written vulgar. He has written from the heart."
At this point she paused to regain her composure before inquiring of me what I intended to do with the manuscript. I informed her of my promise to Quintero and asked her what she thought I ought to do about it.
"Gregory has suffered so much," she replied. "I have too, but in a different way. Nevertheless, we do not matter. It is my son that I wish to consider. What this manuscript might do to him, if it is made public. He is all that I live for now ... Naturally, I do not wish to lose his love."
"Naturally," I repeated, understanding how she must have felt at that moment, though she concealed most of her emotions. She was indeed a brave woman. "Do you propose that I destroy the manuscript?" I offered.
Her answer stunned me.
"No," she replied firmly. "I propose that you withhold publication until my son is old enough to understand. Lord Chalfont will pay handsomely for any postponement you may consider."
"Lord Chalfont knows?" I questioned.
"Everything. He may even offer to buy the manuscript from you. He has the name of Chalfont to consider, but there is also the Count de Cordera and his final wish to consider. For his sake I would like to see the manuscript published. It would justify his existence. If you could only wait until a time when fewer people will be hurt by its publication."
Her honesty and genuine concern for everybody involved except herself overwhelmed me. Such virtue could not be disregarded. When I left Chalfont Castle that afternoon, Lady Chalfont had my word that Quintero's manuscript would be withheld from publication until her son reached his twenty-first birthday.
I did not, however, have to wait that long.
In June of the year 1873, after serious political disorder in Perak, the British Malaya, over the acceptance of British residence and British rule, the native chiefs, outraged by this system of government, rose in revolt and murdered the British appointed Governor, Lord Percival Chalfont, his wife and son.
With the death of Lady Chalfont and her son, I was free to keep my promise to Quintero. Here, then, is the first publication of Quintero's account of the transgressions of Lady Chalfont, unedited and intact, exactly as the author wrote it.
-William D. Criswell Publisher London, England Dec. 2, 1873
CHAPTER ONE
"No, please, don't move! Just stand there and let me look at you."
"You, sir, are a fool, whoever you are."
"And you are the most beautiful young lady I have ever laid eyes upon. What is your name?"
"Alyse."
"From America, I perceive. How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"What lovely age. May I kiss you?"
These bits of conversation, almost unintelligible amid the laughter, and the music of an informal party being given by James Corey, were the first words I exchanged with Alyse Woodwin.
"I'd adore to be kissed," she replied gaily," especially by such a handsome and dashing Italian."
"Spaniard," I corrected.
"Latin all the same with cold black hair, flashing eyes and white teeth ... but I would like to know the name of the man who is kissing me."
I stepped back and introduced myself with a slight bow. "I am Count Gregorio Quintero of Cordera."
"A count," she exclaimed. "I've never been kissed by a count. What's it like?"
"Please, allow me the pleasure of showing you."
There in the conservatory, filled with palms, stacks of books and canvasses and a model's plat form, all of which formed the background of Corey's studio, I pressed my lips over hers and began a rotating movement as I forced my tongue past her teeth and into the various cavities of her delicate mouth. She did not withdraw, and after a moment her lips parted to make more room for my tongue. I sucked on her lovely red sensuous lips for almost a minute, savoring the sweet flavor of her scented breath, before I released her. She stepped back gasping for breath, her large gray-green eyes wide open. At first I thought I had gone too far and offended her with such an ardent first kiss, but then she smiled at me and let me know that she enjoyed it.
I was a stranger in this crowd of painters, sculptors, and musicians, except for my friend and host, Jim Corey. I had only just arrived from Madrid a week before and I felt lost in Roma. For almost an hour I had wandered listlessly around the party, getting bumped by the dancers and pushed aside by the other guests. Until the arrival of this beautiful creature, I was bored and then I was hypnotized. She was a vision in a long white and gold gown which fell over soft rounded hips, two large, well-developed breasts extending to peaks of excitement under the thin fabric, her shoulders bare.
She had to be an actress, I concluded, which did not put me at ease. Jim Corey knew many glamorous young ladies in the Theater, all of whom I feared would be far more experienced than I.
Then Alyse began to talk to me with a great deal of candor and I learned that she was a student of the dance. She had come to Europe to study ballet in Paris, but she had fallen in love with Roma and had temporarily abandoned her studies.
"What about you," she asked eagerly-"What are you doing in Italy?"
"I'm here on a visit."
"What do you do? Other than being a count I mean?"
"Nothing. Oh, I would like to do something. I just haven't made up my mind. I have no artistic talent like you or Jim Corey."
From behind me came Jim Corey's booming voice. "Don't believe what he says, Alyse. My handsome friend, has a most enviable talent. He is known throughout all of Spain as one of the greatest cocksmen of them all. He has a middle leg that hangs down to his knees. In thickness it's the size of my arm, and that is when it is at rest. God knows what it looks like when it is erect ... but rumor has it that he is an artist who really knows what to do with it." With a roar of laughter, he was gone, disappearing amongst his guests.
I must have blushed to a deep shade of purple. "I apologize for our host. I fear Jim has had too much champagne."
It surprised me to discover Alyse laughing uproariously. She appeared not to be in the least offended by Jim's comment concerning the size of my organ. "Maybe you had better kiss me again," she suggested, and pressed her body aggressively against mine. The warmth of her melon-shaped breasts crushed against my chest sent quivering sensations shooting through my limbs and I felt the flesh of my penis expanding beneath my trousers, throbbing against her hip.
Locking her arms about my neck, she leaned up on her toes, and with parted lips buried her teeth into my lower lip. In Spain we are not accustomed to women making physical overtures to men. It startled and flustered me. "Some day I will have to take over the management of my family's estate," I said, stammering for words. "Until then, I enjoy traveling and learning something about life in other parts of the world." She smiled and cocked her head. "I hope you learn a lot while you are in Roma."
All at once a circle of gyrating dancers surrounded us, and the first in rank was Jim Corey, jeering and teasing. "We have a pair of lovers! This will never do so early in the evening. Gregorio, my friend, we must share! No hoarding! We distribute to all."
The group readily agreed with him at the top of their voices. Almost at once I was wrenched from Alyse's embrace and she was whisked away by Julian Dante, a young artist with a grizzly beard. My disappointment was apparent to the revelers surrounding me and they began consoling me in song.
"mother, mother, make him a bed!
Oh make it soft and narrow!
Since he cried for slit tonight,
she will die for his spike tomorrow."
It was an old English ballad I had heard many times with many different verses, which I have long since forgotten. Strangely enough this particular verse has never escaped my memory.
With each passing hour the guests became more wildly uninhibited. Jim had prepared me for what I could expect at one of his parties. He was famous for his sexual orgies and lascivious entertainment, so I was neither surprised nor shocked when two Arabian girls were introduced and began discarding their costumes as they performed their act. They were not what I considered dancers in the sense of being graceful or artistic. Their dance movements were mostly a series of gyrations that caused their flesh to shake and quiver. They were not engaged, however, because of their talent for dancing. I soon discovered their popularity was due to the bizarre sex acts they performed at private functions.
Brown-skinned, and as unwashed as they appeared, both women were not without physical attraction. Their bodies were well shaped and contoured. If anything, their breasts and their buttocks and their hairless vulvas appeared overly developed, but this may have been my imagination as they did everything they could to accentuate these areas during their erotic dance, which had been announced as a sacred fertility rite by our host. Although it could hardly be considered authentic, the intensity of its mounting fervor had a healthy effect upon the guests. Observing several young men standing near me, I noticed the growing bulges in the legs of their trousers.
Eventually the two Arab women ripped away the last of their costumes and revealed themselves completely naked. The oldest of the two women then strutted forward and from a wicker basket produced a black rubber phallus which she strapped to her hip and buttocks, while the younger and more attractive of the two women dropped to the floor and began wriggling and writhing her body in heated anticipation. The older woman came upon her, undulating and gyrating her stomach and hips, causing the rubber phallus to bounce up and down.
With a wild cry the young woman lifted and spread her legs wide. At the same time she placed her fingers on the sides of her vulva to reveal an enormous opening to her vagina. It was phenomenal. I could have placed a fist into it without any effort. In a frenzy of tense and measured movements, the older woman lowered herself onto the younger one, her brown body glistening with perspiration as it wedged between the thighs of the quivering inviting legs.
This was all accomplished to a slowly building beat of the drums until the full length of the black rubber phallus disappeared into the young Arab woman's vagina. I cannot say I was emotionally indifferent to what I saw. That would not be true. I was as aroused as were all the others. But with so many men present I could not see the point of this erotic exhibition between two women.
The point, however, was soon made.
Shortly after the entire length of the rubber phallus had been inserted, it was withdrawn. The older woman then kneeled over the younger woman and massaged the smooth brown plains of her stomach while the younger woman cackled like a chicken. This began to produce laughter from the audience until from the young woman's vagina a large egg began to emerge. The egg was then picked up by the older woman and broken open into a small bowl. It was a raw fresh egg that had been inside the younger woman's vaginal passage all the while. How she had managed to dance and accept the full length of the rubber phallus without breaking the egg was indeed amazing!
After that exhibition I felt I needed a drink. I pushed my way through the crowd and went into the other room, keeping my eyes peeled for the lovely Alyse, but neither she nor the bearded swain who took her from me were in sight. I had not more than taken one gulp from my drink when I heard an uproar coming from the main studio where I had just viewed the entertainment, if you can call it that.
Naturally my curiosity was aroused. I returned to the studio.
The wild reaction from the guests was due to the appearance of a small Arab burro. It stood over the older Arab woman, who was lying on the floor on her back. The small burro stood in repose, its forefeet on either side of the woman's shoulders, the long trunk of its male organ dangling down. I could not believe my eyes.
In a mischievous manner, the Arab woman raised her feet and taking the burro's trunk between them, proceeded to rub it until it grew and stiffened and the head protruded between her thighs. The burro gave a soft neigh as it lowered its head and brushed its wet nostrils over the mounds of the woman's breasts. I could not believe that the animal was actually penetrating the woman, and I had to push through the crowd for a closer look at the demonstration.
Not only was the head of the burro's shaft buried but it had distended the woman's lower orifice to its fullest. As much as I dislike admitting this I am afraid I was too fascinated by such an oddity to be revolted by it.
A very short while later, the burro reared slightly and withdrew, gushing a wave of lava over the woman's body. Luckily for the woman there was enough distance between the flanks of the burro and hers to permit only the tip of the organ to penetrate and none of the shaft, or the animal might have done great injury to the woman in its aroused excitable state.
Everyone including myself felt a degree of shame and turned away from the performance without applause or reactions. Even Jim Cory felt it.
"So I went too far this time," Jim shrugged it off lightly. "But such things go on everyday in parts of Africa and Asia."
He immediately began circulating amongst his guests, jibing and laughing in an effort to coax the party back into its former high spirits. The appearance of two servants with trays of food arranging a buffet table at the far end of the studio helped. Everyone began selecting a dining partner and then rushing towards the line-up at the buffet table.
I kept searching for the-lovely Alyse, whose last name I did not know; then decided with heavy-heart that she had left the party.
Alone once again, and being a stranger among so many pleasure seeking and depraved people made me more uneasy than before. I took advantage of the confusion to make my way toward the entrance to the studio. I felt no rapport with Jim's guests. If I could not be with Alyse, I did not wish to be with anybody.
As I was threading through the crowd, Jim stopped me. "You aren't planning to leave, old man," he said tucking two champagne bottles under each arm.
"I thought I would," I replied.
"The devil you are. I have secured a delightful little Japanese girl to sup' with you," Jim announced, his eyes rolling from one side to the other.
"What about the young girl I was with?"
Alyse? Stay away from her," he warned. "She'll lead you on and then let you down. She's more trouble than she is worth ... lovely as she is."
Personally, Jim Corey counted on nobody. He was a charming libertine who regarded his women and his pleasure with a cool, imperturbable calm, helped along by being under the influence of hashish, which he used often. A loyal friend with a giving spirit, he nevertheless had contempt for women. To those who came to his studio, attracted by his wealth or by the joyful life he led, he was always polite and indulgent. But not one woman could boast of having been his mistress for more than one night.
"Come with me," he continued. "You'll forget the American when you see the Japanese!" He darted away through the crowd.
Jim had half convinced me that I should stay on. I started to follow him across the room when a warm, sweet voice murmured close to my ear:
"Please, do not go to the Japanese girl."
Alyse was beside me, alone, close to me again, drawing me away from the others; and I followed her without hesitation. I was obeying a will stronger than my own, the impetuous desire to possess this woman.
"Stay with me," she purred. "I have rid myself of all others to be with you."
Suddenly we found ourselves on the pavement of the Via Aventino.
"To your quarters or to my hotel?" I asked.
"I think it would be more discreet if we went to my apartment," she answered demurely, turning her head away.
She gave me her address as I hailed a cab. During the long ride we said but little to each other. She held one of my hands between her own, which were very small and cold as ice. She leaned back in the cab and had it not been for the chill of her nervous clasp, I would have thought she had fallen asleep.
We stopped in front of a student's lodging and she informed me there were four flights to mount before we reached her quarters.
"Would you like me to carry you?" I suggested laughingly. While she looked me over slowly, disdainfully, I swept her up in my arms and carried her up like a child, excited by her two naked arms clasped around my neck.
Four stories, a high steep climb, and we arrive at the narrow landing at the top. She unlocked the door to her apartment and I entered the living chamber which was far more elaborately furnished than I had expected. Here and there were expensive pieces and objects of art that stood out from the more conventional furnishings. Alyse tilted her head back and gazed admiringly at an enormous chandelier that glittered extravagantly from the high ceiling.
"I adore beautiful things," she announced, as she undid the ties on her cape and let it fall to the floor.
Alyse stood with her back to me and allowed my arms to encircle her and touch her with gentle familiarity She tossed her head back and rested it upon my shoulder. Bending forward slightly, I was able to touch the lobe of her ear with my lips.
"Mmm, your breath feels warm upon my cheek," she murmured softly, and buried herself deeper into my embrace, shivering in my arms.
"Please, tell me your full name?"
"Alyse Woodwin," she replied. "I know you must be thinking that I'm a brazen hussy. But the moment I saw you, something unusual happened. I cannot control my emotions." My parents are austere, religious people. I'm from-a large Boston family. The Woodwin clan is a model of virtue and propriety.
I held this dream of a girl in my arms, and closed my eyes in an effort to hold back reality. When I opened them I knew she would be gone and I would discover myself back at Jim's party, suffering from hallucination.
"Although I'm terrified of you ... of what Jim said about you, I don't care what happens. I will consider this a stolen interlude in which I abandon myself." She eased out of my arms and strolled across the room to a cabinet and poured from a rare bottle of brandy into two goblets.
I eased myself into an upholstered chair and allowed my shoulders to slump in an effort to relax my mounting tension. Alyse came to me with the two goblets of brandy. She knelt before me taking one of my hands into hers.
"You have such strong square hands," she commented. "I am fascinated by men's hands. It's strange, but my eyes are always drawn to them. I am told it has something to do with the size of the fingers being phallic ... being the symbol of a man's generative power." Suddenly she withdrew slightly and placed her hand to her mouth. "What a terrible thing for me to say. I do not know what has come over me." Then after another pause, she smiled and leaned forward again, wedging her shoulders between my thighs. "Perhaps you have cast a spell over me."
I took her into my arms and crushed her to me, holding her tightly, as if I feared the possibility that she might slip away from me at any moment. We remained that way, motionless and silent for awhile. When I finally spoke, my own voice startled me. It was cracked with emotion.
"Do you want me to invade you, my dear? I would not dare to force myself upon you." The sensation which swept over me at this moment was gentle and protective. I kissed her soft golden hair, then rubbed my cheek against the silky strands. Alyse pulled back and tilted her head up to me, displaying a delicate curve of her ivory toned, swan-like throat. I lowered my mouth to it and allowed my tongue to glide over the length of its contour, coming up under her chin, and eventually pressing my lips tightly over hers. She held her breath and so did I.
When she pulled back to gasp for air, she was reeling. She closed her eyes to steady herself on her knees. "I cannot think clearly," she said breathlessly. "I should ask you to leave ... but I cannot. It is impossible for me to deny you because I desperately want you to love me."
"Please, say those sweet words once again." She raised her fingers to touch my lips. "I want you," she whispered, "take me and do with me whatever gives you pleasure."
Impulsively, I scooped her into my arms and she uttered a small cry of delight. She hugged me firmly and then went limp in my arms, as I crossed into her bed chamber. The moment I reached the bed, she slipped out of my arms and dashed into a small boudoir, closing the door. I knew she needed time to prepare herself, and that she would probably be too embarrassed to disrobe in front of me. As for myself I was grateful for the time alone. Prior to the act of coitus, my heart starts beating wildly in anticipation. My hands start shaking, and in the presence of a woman I generally make a complete idiot out of myself fumbling to discard my clothing. Part of this nervousness was caused from a deep humiliation I experienced when I am exposed fully naked before a stranger for the first time. The comment Jim Corey made to Alyse Woodwin earlier that evening regarding my male organ was indeed, with minor exaggerations, a perturbing truth. Since the age of eight I suffered miserably because of my overdeveloped penis. When I was younger, my family feared it might be a deformity. As a result I was forced to exhibit my member regularly to medical authorities, who examined it, fondled it, measured its growth, and at one point wrapped it in tight bandages for a month. By the time I was twelve years old my penis had reached its full development, but not until I was fifteen did the rest of my body begin to catch up. After that it was not considered serious, but my father's deep concern turned into a source of pride, and on several occasions I was ordered to expose myself to his male associates.
When I was sent away to the boy's academy at Tarragona I was nicknamed "Gregorio, the Snake."
In the process of removing my clothes that evening in Alyse's bed chamber, I became highly stimulated and was unable to contain myself. My penis protruded to a stiff erection, the skin drawn back taut, the head throbbing. I was afraid if Alyse saw it in that state, before I had an opportunity to sufficiently arouse her, she might have misgivings about allowing me to penetrate her. It happened before. I leaped onto the bed and had just enough time to cover my midsection with a pillow before the door to the boudoir opened and Alyse appeared.
She wore a flowing pink satin sleeping gown gathered at her shoulders by a thin gold cord.
Barefooted, she padded gracefully across the room to the side of the bed and struck a pose. Not once did she flinch or remove her eyes from mine. She took the gold cord between her slender fingers and handed it to me. Slowly, tantalizingly I tugged at it until the shoulder gathering loosened, the gown slipped away from her body, and Alyse stood before me naked and quivering.
"Madre mia! Your body is a work of art," I exclaimed. The beauty of her full rounded breasts with large, almost lavender shaded nipples, the soft texture of her flesh, the flat plains of her stomach, the tiny waistline, the sensuous contours of her hips and thighs altogether composed an image that took away my breath.
My hand reached out for her, touching the curve of her hip softly. I felt her flesh quivering beneath my fingertips. Clasping her hand in mine, I drew her firmly down onto the bed beside me. Once she was positioned on her back, I pressed my body forcefully against hers. She lifted her arms to me, and with parted lips, rewarded me with a kiss of sheer fire. Slowly at first, then with more demanding pressure, she drew the tingling warmth from my mouth into hers. My tongue probed past the sweetness of her ripe red lips, edged between her teeth and fluttered deep into her throat. Her tongue greeted mine eagerly, almost as if it was in a state of panic.
She cried out when a moment or two later the roughness of my tongue touched the surface of her flesh, leaving a trail of saliva as it licked its way from the heaving mound of one of her breasts to the firm rigid peak of the other.
The tantalizing and gentle sensation of my tongue seemed to drive her wild. I felt certain that no man had ever kissed her body in this manner before. No man had ever claimed all of her body with his lips and his tongue.
Lower, then lower I permitted my tongue to go, flickering all the sensitive areas-her rib cage, her delightful corkscrew of a navel, and eventually her groin, to the furry apex of her-treasured vulva.
It was like lighting a fuse to a keg of gun powder. We were both set aflame, ready to explode.
"Oh," she moaned. "Oh, my God, I never dreamed that a man's possession of a woman could be so wonderful . ... so maddening."
And indeed it was. It was beautiful and right. It was the sun and the moon, the stars. She was everything. My hands lingered upon her thighs, my fingers massaging, caressing. Her head rocked from one side to the other, her tiny hands clawed at the silk bed sheets, her body squirmed and lifted off the bed. She was ready for me, but I refused to rush my appetite for her. Such sweet torment had to be prolonged. I was determined to hold back the inevitable explosion which would calm the fury and passion in my blood. It would be a delightful and fulfilling calm, but for the moment I only wanted to feel the full depth of my hungry lust for this girl, experience the complete strength of my emotional desires.
When Alyse could bear my loving torment not a second longer without discharging her anxiety, she wiggled out from under the weight of my body, fully intent on giving me a little of the same deliriously agonizing treatment. On her hands and knees, she hovered over my chest, the weight of her breasts dangling heavily. She gazed upon me in the soft candlelight, then kissed my chest.
"So strong, so muscular, so virile," she sighed, before lowering her head to lick the flat hardness of my stomach. I felt my muscles drawing even tighter and harder under the gentle grazing of her tongue.
My body jerked. She smiled slyly. She knew she was reaching a nerve center.
Then her hand strayed downwards to my crotch and flung the pillow to one side. I heard a slight gasp escape from her throat when she caught sight of the enormity of my manliness.
"Merciful Heavens," she croaked. "Jim Corey spoke the truth. You are a satyr; half man, half animal."
My face became inflamed with embarrassment, and my heart sank. I would not be allowed to invade the lovely Miss Alyse Woodwin.
Suddenly I felt her fingers gripping the shaft of my penis, kneading and stroking it in a sensuous rhythm. I threw back my head, closed my eyes and reveled in the glorious sensation. But the pleasure did not end with her finger manipulations. God forbid that it should have ended there. There was a sharp pain that bolted through me, but more than painful, it was an exquisite sensation, a hurt that felt good. It was a moment or two before I was conscious that Alyse had buried her teeth into the head and was devouring it playfully. She could not take the entire bulb into her mouth. It was a physical impossibility, but the combination of her lips, her tongue and her fingers inspired by a strong lusty urgency produced an undulating fervor that had me catapulting all over the bed. I was being delivered to the soaring heights of ecstasy, on the brink of an orgasm. Realizing how close I was, I pushed her off of me with a violence that I fear startled her momentarily.
I drew her up to me until she was clamped in the vise of my arms. We let our bodies rub and touch for awhile, wrapping our legs together, drawing against one another in a prelude of passion that was pulling me over her, crushing my weight against her small but durable body.
There was nothing, absolutely nothing that existed for me except Alyse, claiming her body, and having her yield to me. We were vaulting into the exhilarating plateaus which can only be experienced when two bodies blend into one unit, and they share the sweet torment, the ecstasy of love.
It was the angry tempest of a hurricane, whistling and raging all around us, as my weapon charged into her vulva. She screamed out only once, and once I knew I was all the way in, reaching the very pit of her soul, we lay in the ever-still eye of life, motionless, enveloped in each others arms and legs.
Then our love started to grow.
We passed through the calm eye of the storm and the whirling winds of our passion assailed and buffeted us against each other, our bodies writhing in a bizarre twist.
We exploded together in a thunderclap of a climax, gasping, clawing, grinding and contracting. We experienced the sheer fulfillment of physical love. Is was the creation of one from two, the cleaving of two bodies until we knew the ultimate eruption of our passions, and fell exhausted beside each other with exultant sighs.
An hour seemed like a century. We belonged there in that room ... together. The only thing we feared was that the world would soon creep back and begin to make its demands.
But for those precious hours, reality was beyond our love and our hunger for each other.
CHAPTER TWO
I stayed with her all day and throughout the following night, and then upon the return of her roommate, a Miss Phoebe Berri, a saucy and vivacious redhead, I left Alyse and brought a memorable interlude to an end. Before leaving she said to me, "If you wish to see me again, you know where to find me. During the day, I am generally always here."
Returning to my hotel, I made a note of Alyse's address in my book. I also made a decision to stay on in Roma for awhile, but not necessarily because of Alyse. I had no desire to renew this conquest of the night. The charming and beautiful Miss Woodwin was a lady I could easily fall hopelessly in love with, and that was something I could not afford to do. There were many alluring things in Roma. I wished to be like Jim Corey, a freedom loving spirit, available to do whatever struck my fancy. Once I returned to Spain, I might never have such freedom again.
Jim Corey had been urging me to move out of the hotel and into my own quarters where I would have some privacy. At his suggestion I leased a place on the Via del Corso, and upon his recommendation I employed a housekeeper. Within a week I was comfortably settled in a well established residence with everything in order.
My duplex was a small part of a palace, built two hundred years ago. I found it far more intriguing than many of the more modern lodgings of Roma.
One evening after dinner I had discharged the housekeeper for the evening and was settling down to read a much talked about novel of the day when the knocker sounded at the door. When I opened it a woman dressed in an elegant and expensive style was standing there. I did not recognize her at first until she lifted her veil.
It was the lovely Alyse!
"You did not come back to me, so I have come to you."
"Alyse, how did you find me?" I asked somewhat abruptly.
Then interpreting my surprise for annoyance, she said, "Jim Corey gave me your address." She brushed past me and into the room, circling it for a fast inspection. "Very comfortable." I stood frozen in the doorway, staring at her and holding the door open. "Don't be annoyed with me, my handsome Gregorio. Please, close the door. I promise not to disturb you for very long."
"I'm sorry," I mumbled as I closed the door. "You're more than welcome to stay." I needed all my strength to resist the impulse to take her in my arms and then rip off her gown. She was very tempting, with her small forehead, delicate nose, her sensual lips, and the lithe maturity of her figure displayed in her alluring gown of current Parisian fashion.
"I ought not to have come here," she stated, taking off her bonnet and veil. "I ought to have more pride. I fought to keep myself from coming to you, but here I am as if I were possessed." She sighed deeply.
I looked at her, amused and surprised by her forwardness and persistence. Due to my un-worldliness, I fancied all "fast" women were alike. I was very much surprised to perceive in Alyse a sweetness, a reserve truly feminine, a lady-like air that definitely showed breeding. There was a directness about her that I found most disarming. As a matter-of-fact, despite her desire to be a ballet dancer, there was nothing studied about her, nothing stagy; no show of vanity or deceit, even though she was perhaps the most beautiful creature I had ever encountered. Only a certain mystery prevailed, a mystery unrevealed in moments of passion.
What motivated Alyse Woodwin? I could not penetrate that mystery.
"I have asked my friend, Phoebe, to meet me here," Alyse stated. "Do you object to visits from more than one lady at a time?
"Why did you ask her to meet you here?"
"She works not far from here, and it's such a long ride to where we live in the Quartiere Montesacro
... It is not wise for a young lady to make the trip alone ... especially at night."
"What does Phoebe do?"
"She's studying to be a painter, but she makes extra money for herself by posing as a figure model."
"In the nude?" I questioned.
"Sometimes in a private session, when I am in attendance," Alyse explained. "But never in class sessions."
"What about you, Alyse? Have you ever posed in the nude?"
"I've been asked, more times than I like to admit, but I never had enough nerve. Oh, not that I am ashamed of my body, but I think it has to do with my New England puritan background."
"And when you accompany, Phoebe for private sessions, what do you do?"
"Nothing. I act as a chaperone, making certain the artist is never alone with the model."
"I see."
"That's how I met Jim Corey. Phoebe posed for his magnificent statue of Eve, just biting into the apple."
"Did Jim behave himself?"
"Oh, when is working, the world must stop. Nothing else exists for him. Poor Phoebe! She is madly in love with Jim, but he is so smug he will not give her a second's consideration, even though I know he secretly likes her." Alyse sighed wearily as she settled herself in a chair, and babbled on. "I told Phoebe to find herself another beau, and Jim would soon enough become jealous and pay her some attention."
I crossed to where she was seated, took her hands in mind and pulled her out of the chair back on her feet. I cupped her chin, lifting her face until our eyes met. Then, I kissed her lips, which yielded to mine instantly. Her womanly sweetness produced in me a surging desire.
"What about us?" I whispered. "We are alone together once more."
Alyse closed her eyes, clenching her teeth. What she felt inside she was trying desperately to fight. Her voice dropped at least an octave. "I do not trust myself with you, Gregorio, If I give myself to you again, and shamelessly I admit that I want to, where will it lead us?" She pressed herself tighter against my chest, and remained there, frightened, but unable to extinguish her own growing desire.
I could not answer her question, but our mutual passion rose like a spontaneous spring, and like pebbles on the ocean's embankment we were swept along with the irresistible current.
We were soon caught in a whirlpool from which we could not escape. Once more, there was no one else, nothing in the world but us. We were all that was important ... just the two of us. I was holding her, loving her so much that I ached inside, and she was responding.
I could feel the rhythm of her body, the pulse of her need and the urgent hunger she had for me. Perhaps I was only fooling myself. Perhaps her hunger was not for me, Gregorio Quintero, the man. Perhaps her lusty appetite was only for that infernal third arm dangling between my legs. At times it was a curse, but at this particular time it was not. My hands tightened upon her shoulders, pulling her closer and closer, until my mouth completely covered hers, and nothing separated our bodies except the artificial barriers of our clothing.
The kiss was over, and Alyse relaxed against me, her weight light, her breath coming in short nervous intakes of air. My hand stroked the long straight silky strands of her golden hair as I gazed down at her.
I am sure she recognized the decision in my eyes. Trying to deny each other was hopeless.
She stepped back, and without further ado removed the jacket of her suit and started unbuttoning the embroidered blouse she was wearing. This time there did not seem to be any reluctance or false modesty about undressing in front of me.
"Would it not be better if we retired to the bedroom upstairs?" I suggested.
"No, please, do you mind if we remain in this room, so we will be sure to hear Phoebe when she arrives. Besides you have such a crackling fire going, I think it would be delightful if we made love on the floor in front of the fireplace." Sometimes she was like a small enchanting child. I half expected her to jump up and down and clap her hands for joy. I smiled and nodded I was in agreement with her suggestion. I crossed to the large windows that looked down into the courtyard and drew the portieres closed. When I turned back into the room, Alyse stood bare breasted at the front door adjusting the lock. "What are you doing?"
She smiled. "Just making certain that the door is locked." As she crossed in to me, she cupped her heavy breasts in her hands.
The moment she reached me, I removed her hands and replaced them with my own. Greedily I palpated and squeezed and kneaded those luscious love-fruits. Eventually I lowered my head to nibble and suck her nipples until they became reddened and throbbed in tumescence. And while my mouth paid tribute to the fertile firmness of her heaving breasts, Alyse slithered out of her skirt, her petticoat, her bloomers and other sundry undergarments that women wear. Once the base of her opulent, tempting buttocks were bare, my hands fingered the warm vibrant flesh. Alyse tugged at my ears, forcing my lips back to her breasts. She tossed her own head back with her eyes closed and nostrils flaring in the rapturous foretaste of our cohesion.
Suddenly I knelt before her, and at first kissed her dimpled navel, then let my tongue crawl down along the inside areas of her lovely thighs. All the while my hands continued palming the crests of her quivering buttocks, lulling her off guard. Then unexpectedly I glued my lips over the inviolable entrance to her temple of creation. As my tongue darted and dipped into that sweet flavored chalice of all delights, Alyse's face became almost transfigured by the agonizing bliss of this veneration.
"Oh ... ohh," she moaned. "Oh, my darling, I will surely go mad if you continue."
I withdrew, but not by her request. I leaped to my feet and disrobed as swiftly as I could. Naked, the way God had intended us to be, I lifted her in my arms and laid her down gently upon a fur skin rug I had recently purchased and placed in front of the fireplace. Once I took my place beside her, Alyse's entire body began to shudder in a flux of passion, her eyes humid, her lips moist and red with yearning. With one hand, she gripped the back of my neck; her other hand roved over my hip to my thigh. When I felt her soft slim fingers enfold the stiff shaft of my penis, I uttered a cry of ecstatic pleasure and ground my teeth to suppress the violent earthquake which raged demoniacally in my loins.
It was Alyse, this time, who guided by member to the entry of her vulva. She spread her legs, lifting them high and, when I was wedged between them, she locked them about my waist in a vise-like grip. We came together with a com mingled sobbing cry, each of us wildly excited, each of us struggling to prolong the moment of fulfillment. With my mouth fused to hers, my hands reached for her succulent buttocks to guide her on that blinding journey to the shores of white hot release.
Having reached our harbor of ecstatic joy, we were swiftly approaching a climax in a unison of fulfillment when a frail voice cried out from across the room. I turned sharply and caught sight of Miss Phoebe Berri staring at us, astonished, then turning quite pale, she collapsed in a heap.
CHAPTER THREE
I carried Miss Berri to the divan, and sat on the edge alongside of her. I smacked her cheeks several times to bring back her color. Then, placing my arm underneath her head, I revived her with a sip of brandy. She gazed up at me until my image came clearly back into focus. Embarrassed, she gulped hard and covered her face with her hands. I had completely forgotten that I was still stark naked.
Alyse was laughing uproariously as I hurried out of the room, scaling the steps two at a time . I went to my bedroom for a dressing gown and slippers, and another pair of trousers.
When I returned, Alyse was dressed and in the process of braiding her hair. She was seated on the divan talking to Miss Berri.
"I am very sorry for my intrusion," Phoebe Berri stammered. "The door was ajar, and I thought...."
"But you told me...." I interrupted, turning to look at Alyse questioningly.
Alyse shrugged. "I thought I had locked it," she offered.
It was not a very satisfactory explanation, but I let it go. There was another complication.
"I've felt faint all evening," Phoebe announced. I had a chill at the studio. That is why they released me early."
"Gregorio, do you have a guest room?" Alyse inquired.
"Yes."
"Would it be possible for Phoebe and me to stay here tonight? It is a long ride to the Quartiere Montesacro."
I assured the two young ladies that they were most welcome to stay over. I even offered to fetch a doctor for Miss Berri.
"Oh, no, please, I have caused enough trouble as it is. I'm tired, that is all."
"Once she gets into bed, she will be all right," Alyse diagnosed.
After serving a light refreshment, the two ladies retired to the second floor guest room which was down the hallway from the master bedroom. Once I was alone I checked the front door to make sure that it locked properly. It did. The more I thought about it, the more strange I considered the circumstances. It occurred to me that Alyse had purposely unlocked the front door, and that Phoebe's intrusion had been deliberate, but I could not understand the reason. It did not make sense.
Unable to come to any conclusions, I dismissed the incident, retired to my room and to bed. My sleep was interrupted, however, by muffled laughter coming from the guest room down the hall. I could not imagine what my two lovely guests found so amusing. My curiosity aroused, I got out of bed and slipped back into my dressing gown.
As I passed the guest room, I heard muffled voices coming from behind the closed door. I paused long enough to press my ear to the door to overhear the conversation. Phoebe was speaking.
"The sight of it made me sick, Alyse. I can not help how I feel."
"I thought it might stimulate you," Alyse said hoarsely. "Did you notice the sculptured beauty of the Count's body?"
"Yes, Phoebe whispered breathlessly, "but I was more excited by yours."
"The Count has only to touch me and he sets me on fire." Alyse sighed, then giggled. "He's very righteous and moral. He must think of me as the most wicked woman in the world."
"Sometimes, when I am most starved for love," Phoebe sighed, "I find myself wishing for a man to show me the beauty of loving a man, but of course without the selfish, heedless brutality which is so customary with the opposite sex."
"The Count is very gentle."
Phoebe released a subdued squeal. "Oh, that enormous thing of his terrified me. I don't know how you can take something like that into your body. It would kill me."
"Have you never had a man?"
"Not since I was fourteen years old and was raped by an old caretaker and his son. It was horrible!"
They were suddenly silent. I feared that they had sensed that I was at the door listening. Then I thought I heard Alyse utter a quivering sob, a low moaning sigh.
"Is this not just as exciting?" I heard Phoebe ask.
There was no answer, only feeble cries which might have aroused the concern or curiosity of the most indifferent of individuals. I padded out onto the terrace. I first saw the flickering light coming from the window. This meant I could not get too close without being easily detected. I stood back near the terrace railing and edged over a step at a time, until my vision took in a full view of the bed. The flickering light came from the licking flames of the fireplace, but the flames of passion igniting upon the bed seemed far more heated.
The spectacle which was offered to my eyes was in one respect astonishing to me. Whereas I was not shocked by it. The fact that Alyse was one of the participants was a tremendous blow to my manly pride.
The two young women lay naked upon the bed, their bodies tightly pressed together, their bare breasts mashed together in ecstatic urgency, while Phoebe's hands roamed over the thighs, the hips and fleshy backsides of the satin-skinned Alyse. Their lips exchanged myriad little stinging kisses ... kisses, which made those luscious lips I had tasted swell and darken.
Alyse, was piqued with curiosity about this new and sensational experience. Phoebe began to weave her stomach slowly and suggestively against Alyse's, while her fingertips kneaded the flesh of the hips and buttocks. Alyse, buried underneath Phoebe's squirming form, gripped the arms of her ardent female lover. The girl raised up slightly and allowed her dangling, jostling breasts to rub against those belonging to Alyse. The friction made Alyse shiver ecstatically. Her nipples stiffened and seemed to expand.
As they exchanged fluttering little butterfly kisses with the tips of their feverish tongue, Phoebe slid her leg possessively over Alyse's, wriggling closer until her loins made contact. Then closing her eyes blissfully, Phoebe crushed her passionate wet lips to her partner's Moaning in rapt response to the Sapphic assault, Alyse's fingertips kept occupied with tracing elusive patterns along Phoebe's deeply indented spine. At one point she grabbed frantically at Phoebe's flesh, and then began squirming and maneuvering herself towards a frenzied fusion.
"Now, tell me your handsome Count is better," Phoebe whispered huskily. Her right hand slipped down along Alyse's supple, lithe back, stroking the full but compact buttocks, then slyly prying between the fleshy cheeks with a probing, questing finger. This produced a cry of both pain and joy from Alyse.
"Don't stop," Alyse ordered between gasps. "Be stronger, more masculine ... more cruel." Phoebe stiffened and clenched her over-flung leg and drew Alyse's legs into a vice-like grip. Her bodily gyrations increased, her tongue began a rhythmic rapier wooing of Alyse's flesh, and her probing finger explored deeper into the opened passage.
"Wonderful," Alyse sighed in a delirium of desire. "But more! Much more!"
My throat went dry and my face was as red as fire. I stood there staring through the window, strangely fascinated by what I saw. Alyse and Phoebe were no longer charming young ladies, feminine and demure. They were like two wild little minks, half crazed with sexual desire. Watching them I became wildly excited. My own body began to jerk in a desperate convulsive reaction to each persuasive touch of Alyse's body.
Rising off the bed to her feet, Phoebe regarded Alyse's prone nakedness, her glittering eyes devouring those large coral colored nipples at the center of her creamy luscious round melons, the deep dimple of a navel, and the downy fringe that grew along the base of the abdomen and culminated in a furry mound of love. Phoebe's own body began to vibrate and quiver with excitement. "Alyse!" the redhead hissed desperately. Alyse opened her eyes and uttered another ecstatic little cry of delight.
Phoebe Berri sank down onto the edge of the bed beside her blonde inamorata and gave her a final, searing, soul-searching kiss on the mouth. Then swiftly, she recoiled, sank to her knees, and grasping at Alyse's ankles, pushed the girl's dimpled knees back towards her heaving breasts. The redhead bowed her head, burying her face into the hairy thatch of her love slave.
Alyse's eyes opened wide in wild rapture and surprise. "Oh ... oh ... oh, dear Lord ... I will lose my mind. It's agonizing."
Her knees clashing together, she uttered a long, strident, shriek of supreme ecstasy. She lay, her hands cupping her heaving breasts, swooning in a vortex of appeasement which had aroused her to a peak beyond what I had attained with her. "Harder! Rougher!" she ordered. "Hurt me!" Phoebe rose, shivering, herself unfulfilled. "If that is what you wish," she said flatly. Reaching over Alyse's body, she grabbed at the girl's arm, the one farthest from her, and yanked it toward her, forcing Alyse to roll onto her stomach. "Get ready for it," Phoebe intoned as she reached for a hairbrush from the night table next to the bed. Alyse was too delirious to realize what was about to happen.
I bit my lip nervously and turned to one side to view the unusual spectacle, as the sterling silver hair implement slowly rose above Alyse's condemned, twitching posterior. Phoebe's arm halted for a lingering moment in mid-air, as if to prolong the suspense, and then slammed down upon the soft flesh with an ear-splitting smack.
Alyse gave out a startled cry. An angry red splotch decorated the right cheek of her naked bun.
As the spanking proceeded, I could contain myself no longer without making my presence known to them.
Before doing so, I dashed to my bedroom to fetch the widest leather belt I possessed in my wardrobe. Then, returning to the end of the hall, I battered and kicked in the door to the guest room. As the door flew open under the sound of splitting wood, Alyse and Phoebe leaped to their feet, grabbing a sheet off the bed to cover their shameful nakedness as best they could.
"Gregorio!" the startled Alyse exclaimed. "How dare you burst in here unannounced."
"How dare I? How dare you! Both of you ... conducting such a repulsive perverted act while guests under my roof." I was so enraged, so shaken with envy, I was screaming at the top of my lungs.
"Alyse, he is mad," the young redhead said fearfully. "He will kill us!"
"Get out of here this instant," Alyse ordered me.
Together they stepped back terrified as I slowly crossed in to them. They kept backing up until their legs were pinned against the edge of the bed and they could move no further.
"What are you going to do," Phoebe whimpered.
I did not give Phoebe the courtesy of an answer. I stood staring contemptuously at both girls, breathing hard as my wrath increased. Although I did not realize it at the time, I was satisfying my own jealously of the passionate liaison between them; an act in which I had not been allowed to be a participant.
Directing myself to Phoebe I said, "So, Miss Berri, you would prefer your flabby little tongue to the strength of a man's stiff cock! Then turning to Alyse, "And you, my dear, perhaps you should experience the sting of a man's belt across your backsides before you decide which you prefer, the tickle of a girl's tongue or the force of a man's cock pumped into your belly." Being deliberately coarse, I reached out and yanked the bedsheet from them. They stood before me naked, shivering and terrified.
"All right, now both of you turn around and bend over the bed with your backsides out." Neither girl made a move to obey me. "Did you hear what I said. Bend over!
My frustration and anger made my voice more forceful, and to make sure that they understood, I snapped the leather belt I held in my hand, cracking the tip of it on the edge of the night table. Both girls instantly obeyed my orders.
I gave each of them five lashes across their buttocks, and I must admit I marveled at the stoic manner in which Alyse accepted her punishment Each smack landed on target with precision, each
lash leaving a bright red welt on her delicious quivering flesh, but through it all Alyse remained motionless, without moving or uttering a sound. This was not the case with Miss Phoebe Berri. Whimpering like a frightened young puppy Phoebe could not restrain from jerking her lips convulsively, kicking up first one foot and then the other as the belt struck each stinging blow.
"You beast! You beast!" the redhead wailed when I had finished and withdrawn my belt. Her hands were rubbing her burning stinging posterior for dear life.
Alyse turned about calmly and searched my eyes for the true meaning of my actions. Although there were tears in her eyes, there was a half smile upon her lips. It confused me.
Then she stepped into me, still gazing deep into my eyes, reached up to cup my face tenderly in the palms of her hands and kissed me meaning fully upon the lips. "You are very exciting when you are angered," she whispered.
I thought she was mocking me, and I reacted to the remark by smacking her harshly a-cross the face with the back of my hand. She sailed back against the wall, and I was suddenly very ashamed that I had beat her and struck her. Before this night I had never laid a hand upon a woman. But my shame was fleeting. Alyse was laughing. She knew she had the power to hurt me.
"If I were a man," she sneered, "a real man, and my woman had relations with a lesbian, do you know what I would do? I wouldn't react like an irate parent to a child who had been naughty. I would twist the screw into my woman's heart by taking the lesbian right in front of her." Alyse leaped behind Phoebe, grabbed the girl's arms and pulled them behind her forcing the girl toward me. "Take her," Alyse shouted. "I dare you. Go on while I hold her."
"No!" Phoebe screamed out, her naked body squirming desperately to be free from Alyse's grip. "I'll die, if he touches me. Please, Alyse, Don't let him touch me."
Alyse stared at me, taunting me, defying me with blazing, passionate eyes. I could not allow her to belittle me. She was calling my bluff and I had to prove to her that I too could be insensitive.
I dropped the leather belt from my hand, ripped off my robe and pajama bottoms.
Phoebe's eyes widened in panic and fear. "NO," she kept screaming, tossing her head from side to side, as I approached her with the palm of my hand stretched out and up, supporting the weight of my erect and throbbing penis. With each step toward the squirming young redhead, my shaft grew larger, the skin grew more taut. Alyse bit down upon her lower lip and held on to Phoebe for dear life, never taking her eyes off of me.
The more Phoebe struggled and panicked, the easier she made it for me. She kept thrusting her pelvis out in an effort to win her freedom. I caught the cheeks of her buttocks in both my hands as she thrust her hips forward and steadied them long enough to force the bulging head of my penis to be inserted between the extremely tight passage of her canal.
"No," Phoebe screamed, "I'll die. He's killing me, I'll die." Hot scalding tears streaked her cheeks.
Alyse's eyes continued to defy me and I pressing into Phoebe, breaking through the hysterical girl's tightness, I had to be careful. I could have ripped this girl apart. Slowly, no more than an inch at a time, I pressed deeper into her womb, until the entire length of my trunk was buried.
Phoebe's cries began to subside, and as I relaxed my body, she relaxed hers. When her screams were reduced to whimpers, Alyse withdrew her hold on the girl, and stepped back. Phoebe and I stood naked and erect, our bodies locked together, neither of us daring to move, until the young redhead sighed and her arms crawled up around my neck; Then slowly her hips began to move back and forth.
My eyes were still concentrated upon Alyse. Her eyes flashed with anger when she saw that Phoebe began to enjoy the sensation of my assault. Alyse stood watching us for a moment as our bodies began to move in a rhythm, and then impulsively, she bent over to pick up my leather belt off the floor.
"That's enough," she commanded harshly. Before I could dodge her, Alyse had the belt looped around my neck and was yanking on it, pulling me away from Phoebe. "I said that is enough."
My withdrawal from Phoebe was swift and very painful, especially for her. The moment we were no longer connected the young redhead collapsed on the bed, sobbing.
While I gazed upon her with concern, Alyse said, "Do not concern yourself with her. She loved it." I thought I detected a note of envy in her voice.
"Get out of my sight," I yelled. "You disgust me ... much more than Miss Berri."
Alyse started to press herself against me, but I pushed her away, and fled from the room. Knowing it would be impossible for me to sleep until I had time to calm myself, I went downstairs and poured out a large brandy. The embers in the fireplace were still red hot. I banked them and placed two fresh logs on the andirons.
Then with my glass of brandy in hand, I settled into an armchair and watched the flames rise and lick about the logs. As I sat there brooding, staring into the fire, I heard light footsteps upon the stairs. I pretended not to hear them.
A moment later Alyse, in all her lovely nakedness stood silently before me, her head bowed, her body surrendering. Although my heart began pounding once more, I said nothing; I did nothing. I tried desperately to ignore her presence, cursing the fact that I betrayed myself by a series of nervous gulps that I could not prevent.
Then unpredictable as always, Alyse dropped to the floor and curled up in a ball at my feet. Nestling her lovely bare back and shoulders between my thighs, she rested her head in my crotch and announced, "I love you, my dearest."
Those three simple words rocked me to the very depth of my being. I felt my penis expanding, getting stiff and erect, pressing against the nape of her neck. She felt it too, and a moment later she had my robe opened and her teeth were grazing the bulbous head.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Girls are no different than boys," Alyse was explaining. "When young, we have all had moments of weakness with our own sex."
What she said was true. I was thinking also how it was at the boy's academy. "But past a certain age, "I argued, "Past a certain age we outgrow such perverse habits."
"Do we? Not Phoebe! She had a dreadful experience when she was fourteen. It gave her this fear of men. She has never been able to get over it. I have been trying to help her, but...."
"Are you helping her," I cut in, "by being a party to such depravity?"
We had retired to the master bedroom, and were presently stretched out across the bed, relaxing. Alyse tugged at the dressing gown she had borrowed from me, wrapping it about her small frame, and nestled closer to me. She took my arm and placed it underneath her head.
"Gregorio, my dearest, I was burning up with desire. Phoebe walked in on us and I was left hanging ... unfulfilled."
"What about me?" I reminded her.
"But you did not have Phoebe throwing temptation in youth's path. I did! Please, Gregorio, can you forgive me?"
I rolled my head to the side and kissed her on the temple. "I have to," I said. "I did not want this to happen, Alyse, but I too have fallen in love-with you."
She placed one of her bare legs over mine, and snuggled still closer. "We are both lost," she sighed.
"What about the front door?" I asked.
"All right, I admit leaving it open."
"But why?"
"I wanted Phoebe to see us together. I thought if she saw you with me ... saw how wonderful you are, it might excite her interest in men."
"You mean you actually wanted her to walk in and see us making love?" I raised up, and resting on one arm, glared down at her.
"No, I did not plan it to happen the way it did. Remember, Phoebe said she left the studio early."
I was satisfied with her explanation. She was so outspoken and honest, I could not remain angry with her. I cradled her in my arms, threw open the robe she wore and enjoyed her warmth and her nearness. I could not deny the fact that I was pleased with our relationship. I could not ignore my unbridled passion for her. I could not deny that I yearned for her caresses.
Soon I was deliciously stupefied by her breath upon my eyelids, which were heavy with sleep. Alyse stayed in my bed through the night and the following morning I took care of our unfinished business from the night before.
The summer being very fine that year, Alyse and I went about together in search of all those charming corners in the environs of Roma of which she knew well. We mixed with the noisy crowds of passengers at the suburban rail stations. We breakfasted at some inn on the skirts of a wood or a lake, only avoiding the too greatly frequented places of the city, where we might run into friends or acquaintances Alyse had known. It was her wish that we be alone, and that the love we had found together, be shared with no one ... for awhile at least.
Much to the vexation of my old domestic, Signora Vitale, my love moved in with me. She had insisted upon it, explaining it thusly: "You are a Spaniard, a man with a jealous nature, Gregorio Quintero. If we are living together, you will never have any doubts about me. You will know that I belong only to you; that I share my love with no other man ... or woman."
It was a happy period for both of us., I was thankful for the love that surrounded me, for Alyse's never changing affection.
She soothed and indulged me and I permitted myself to be soothed and indulged. I confess, like all men, I adored it. And once the Signora Vitale got used to the idea of my having a mistress, she and Alyse became confidantes. Why I had deprived myself for so long of this kind of happiness for fear of becoming involved, I do not know. I was settled and it suited me. My life was far more respectable living with one woman than it was when I went from one girl to another, endangering my health, pretending to love my freedom. I knew now I had only just found it-in the love Alyse and I shared.
So the days and weeks passed on in blissful quietude, troubled for a moment by one circumstance which affected both Alyse and me deeply but in a different manner. Alyse believed herself to be pregnant, and told me so with such delight that I could not but share it. In my heart I was afraid of it. A father at my young age? What could I do with it? I would have to recognize it, of course, Alyse and I would have to get married, and at this point in our lives we were not ready for the finality of legal matrimony. Our love would then be a forced bondage that would destroy our happiness and the freedom we felt together.
Suddenly my fetters became visible to me, heavy, cold and riveted. At night I could not sleep any more than Alyse, and side by side in our big bed we would lay dreamily with our eyes open and be a thousand leagues apart from each other.
Fortunately we discovered it was a false alarm and we resumed a peaceful and deliciously close and happy existence. Once again Alyse would creep close to me at night, nestling in my neck, permitting her delicate hands to stray, to lay claim to my penis which she decried belonged to her and no other. It was her toy, she said, and she could do whatever she pleased with it. She even gave it a name. She called it her "King."
During the month of August there appeared a great deal of comment in the newspaper and in the art circles regarding a painting by a new artist, Mario Aiello, who it was said was being sponsored by an Englishman, Percival Chalfont, who was the son of Lord Chalfont. There were two groups of thought regarding the painting which Aiello had titled "Erotica." One group, including a number of critics, acclaimed the painting to be a masterpiece, predicting that Aiello would go down in history as one of the great masters. He was young, and whereas he still had to develop, his painting "Erotica" proved that he
had every potential. Another group heatedly rejected the painting as being lewd and pornographic. They even went so far as to try to get a court order to ban any public showings of the painting.
Describing the painting, one art critic wrote that the scene depicted a love goddess situated in an orchard of trees, surrounded by love slaves, which included four men, a young teenage girl and a sexually aroused animal. Using one of the male slaves as a seat, the article described as discreetly as possible how the love goddess was positioned on his mid-section. It indicated to me that the human seat had his penis plugged up the anal passage of the goddess. The goddess faced another male love slave, with her legs wrapped around his waist. It clearly indicated to me that besides enjoying the act of sodomy, she was being fornicated as well. A third slave, tall, handsome and as naked as all the others, stood over the goddess, posed in a spread-eagle stance with his long and erect member projected into the mouth of the goddess. The fourth slave, apparently waiting his turn, busied himself with tongue-kissing one of the goddess' well rounded breasts, while the goddess herself employed both of her hands-one occupied with fondling the organ of an aroused dog, and the fingers of the other hand playing with the clitoris of the young maiden.
Mario Aiello had certainly not overlooked anything in depicting that erotic scene. It was said that the figures were extremely life-like, and that live models had posed in the various positions. Aiello was even quoted as saying that not once did he reply upon his imagination while doing his subjects, and said that the painting took him a year to complete.
Just thinking about it, visualizing the artist in relationship to his live subjects, excited me enormously. What a year that must have been for him! It was a wonder to me that he was able to complete the painting with such distractions. Through Jim Corey I had heard about women who enjoyed the penetrations of two or three men at the same time. Such practices I was told were popular in Oriental harems and Muslin houses of prostitution. During his travels Jim had even seen a demonstration of a woman whose vagina was large enough to accommodate two males at once. When I first heard of this from Jim, I doubted the story. Such a feat would require an extension of parts of the men would have to be in possession of shafts that were longer than my own and not as fat in circumference as mine. Jim explained it in detail to me and I believe that such a coupling is possible.
Just thinking about the Aiello painting conjured up all sorts of images which caused me to get an erection. I had to see it for myself. One Saturday afternoon I proposed to Alyse that we visit the Galleria dell' Accademia.
Without warning, Alyse leaped upon me like there many times. It is a bore."
"But they have this sensational new painting "Erotica" on exhibit," I said.
"I know," she replied. "I read the newspapers as well as you. They say it is a vile thing. Would you dare take me to see something like that?"
"Not if it would embarrass you, my dear.
Certainly not. But would you object if I went alone to see it one afternoon?"
"I certainly would," she snarled. "Don't you dare start going places without me."
"Then go with me to the Galleria. You do not have to see the painting."
"No, there are too many artist and old friends that go there. What would I say to them now."
"But you used to have so many friends ... Phoebe ... and Jim Corey. Have you given them all up?"
"I have no need for anybody but you, my dearest Gregorio." she said, she threw her arms about my neck, pressed her body firmly against mine and kissed me with parted lips. "Besides all the people I know in Roma are not really my friends. They are such crazy, crack-brains, who stretch the truth so that one never knows when they are sincere."
I continued to protest. "Nevertheless, I should know a lot more about art than I do. They say there is nothing to be compared with it for enlarging the sphere of life. You have sometimes said I was naive and prudish. If that is so, I owe it to myself to see this painting "Erotica"-to broaden my thinking."
Alyse laughed at me. "My darling, I love you the way you are. It is beautiful to be simple and upright, to be young and handsome, and to love so well. Your sphere is broad enough. Now promise me you will forget about your desire to see this dreadful painting."
I promised and dropped the subject.
In the back of my mind, however, I wondered why the matter should have been so upsetting to Alyse. It bothered me. I could not believe that she would feel ill-at-ease if she ran into Jim or Phoebe again ... or any of the others, for that matter. Alyse was always well composed, and never at a loss for something to say. She had minor faults, but lack of confidence in herself was not one of them.
Nor was my true love shy and retiring when it came to immoral matters. She had always impressed me as being a modern, out-spoken girl. It was one of the qualities about her that I found so appealing. That she would be embarrassed to view the painting "Erotica" seemed impossible to accept.
I resolved to visit the Galleria dell' Accademia di San Luca at the very first opportunity I could get free, without ever bringing up the subject again to Alyse.
The same week-end that there was so much excitement about the Aiello painting, Alyse suggested that we spend Saturday and Sunday in the country. We traveled by rail to Tivoli and had two delightful days at the Villa Teresa near a small lake. Sunday morning we had planned to row a-cross the lake. It was a beautiful day, the mist of the morning resting calm upon the water. We were up very early and having breakfast alone in the little garden of the restaurant that was part of the Villa. Waiting for our breakfast to be prepared, and thinking we were alone in the garden, I started embracing Alyse, kissing her neck and ears, and even venturing to place my hand upon her breasts. I immediately felt the growing tension between my legs.
Suddenly from a rustic summer house in the tree at the base of which our table was situated, a booming and mocking voice exclaimed: "Shameful! And in the full light of day! If you two are quite finished wooing, I have a mind to come down." And the grizzly beard of the artist I had seen with Alyse at Jim Corey's party a few months ago peered through a loophole in the tree hut.
"In fact I might even join you for breakfast.
I am as melancholy as Hamlet up here in the tree."
Alyse did not reply, being evidently annoyed at the recognition. I too was surprised, and even annoyed by the tone of intimacy which he adopted toward my love. He referred to her as "love-of-my-life" and "beloved," and became quite personal in his conversation, which excluded me almost entirely.
"I felt fearfully lazy this week-end," he said. "It was impossible for me to do any work. You know how it is, beloved, after a solid week of carousing and screwing. So I left my studio and came out to the country. Ridiculous! One more minute of being alone up a tree, and I would have been weeping into my rabbit-stew." He referred to his ungroomed beard by twirling it with his unwashed hand. Then, turning with a disapproving glance toward me, he said. "I suppose you are the one I have heard so much about."
"Yes, you are the one," the bearded artist confirmed. "You are from Madrid, are you not?" I nodded. "And what have you heard, my friend?"
"Oh ... all very good and very flattering," Dante replied. "That you were extremely handsome. And indeed you are; that Alyse was madly in love with you. And I can see that she is." He then shrugged broadly. "So there is no longer any hope for the rest of us lost souls."
"You wretch!" Alyse exclaimed, laughing loudly. "You have never been lost and you have never hoped to love anybody but yourself."
"Quite true," Dante agreed, scrutinizing her while he proceeded to eat one of our breakfast rolls. "Have you seen the "Erotica" since it has been placed on exhibit?"
I sat motionless, listening, the very heart of my vitals turning cold. What Dante said indicated that Alyse had seen the painting before it had been placed on public exhibit. If she had seen it before, then why did she not tell me?
"No, I have not seen it," Alyse snapped. "And I would rather not discuss it"
"As you wish, my love," he replied, with a knowing glance at me, a trace of envy hovering in the corners of his mouth. "I say, Alyse, do you remember a sunrise breakfast here-a year ago indeed-Corey, Phoebe, Mario and the whole group were here. You and Mario went swimming in the lake without a stitch; Then they dressed you up in man's clothes and that silly little tart Corey had with him started playing up to you," placing her hand into your pants." He started laughing, then developed a cough and was unable to continue.
I said to Alyse. "Was he speaking about Mario Aiello?"
"No, another Mario," she returned quickly, directing her answer pointedly to Dante.
"Yes ... another Mario," he confirmed while still choking.
"You didn't tell me you had been here before-to the Villa Teresa," I said to Alyse. "That must have been a lot of fun, with all of you here together." Jealous as I was, I tried to keep my voice casual.
"It was a bore," she replied coldly...." and I vaguely remember it. Julian exaggerates." Dante face was turning red from his severe coughing spell, but he managed to nod in agreement with Alyse. He was a shallow, obvious man.
"In fact it was such an uneventful boring weekend," Alyse continued, "that it slipped my mind about being here before."
During breakfast, Dante became quite mindful of the past, recounting, between his omelet and his draughts of wine instead of expresso the exploits of his lusty youth; love and drinking orgies in the country, the parties and balls, the indiscretions in the studios, the sexual conquests and love affairs. Through his entire discourse he carefully excluded Alyse from any further involvement with his past. By this time, however, it made no difference. The damage had been done. I knew there was some link between Mario Aiello and Alyse Woodwin.
By the time he ran out of memories, Alyse and I were scarcely paying any attention to him. We were engaged in plucking grapes from each other's lips.
"I see I am boring you," Dante said, as he rose from the table and tossed his napkin aside. He turned away sadly, trailing his feet as if he were suffering from some mortal disease.
"Poor Julian!" murmured Alyse in a tone of gentle commiseration. "He has nearly burned himself out."
That afternoon during the boat ride across the lake, I was silent. I did not intend to be. I wanted our week end to remain unspoiled, but the few things Julian Dante had said earlier in the day returned to torment me. What was there in Alyse's past that she was keeping from me?
Alyse, however, perceiving the mood I was in, anticipated me. "My darling, I know what you are thinking. It has to do with what that old fool Julian said this morning. Please, do not ask me questions or make an issue of the past. All that is dead and over and I love no one but you-since there is no one but you in the whole world." I felt the same way about her. For that reason, before I became more deeply involved, before this lovely creature really got into my blood, I had to be sure about her.
Late Monday afternoon we returned from the country and I made an excuse to leave the house on a matter of business I had to take care of pertaining to my family. I did not have any such business, of course, but it gave me the opportunity to visit the Galleria dell' Accademia before it closed for the day.
I wish to God now I had never viewed the painting "Erotica." My entire life might have been different. I realize now that Alyse was right. Sometimes the past should remain dead. It would have been better if I had not have known.
Ah, but what good is hindsight now. I saw the "Erotica," and there was Alyse as the love goddess ... as real as life, so real that I almost felt I could reach out and touch her. Every detail of the body in the painting belonged to Alyse. Her blonde hair and button nose, her melon shaped breasts, her tiny waist, her rounded, jetting hips and dimpled buttocks.
Beautiful, oh, so beautiful were the flesh tones and skin texture. And so real-the arms, the neck, the shoulders, like fine amber without a spot of blemish. Alyse's flesh was exactly the same. Even the area below her navel I readily recognized, the area where her pelvic bones protruded slightly.
Here was my woman, my first and only love, on public exhibition, the cherished secrets of her body exposed for all the world to ogle. But what drove me to the shattering depths of shame was the way in which Alyse as the goddess was depicted.
With the exception of that evening at Jim Corey's party when I witnessed a demonstration involving two Arab women, this painting was as lascivious as anything I have seen, or anything I ever expect to see again. In fact I found it far more shocking than the entertainment Jim Corey had provided at his party. I had no identification with the two Arab women and could view their erotic act with detachment, but in the case of the painting by Aiello I could relate the love goddess to Alyse, which made it far more personal and shattering.
Not only were the three fundamental openings of her anatomy willing receptacles for three sizable and erect organs, but the goddess was provoking the genitals of a very young girl and a dog with delicate fingers that were unmistakably those belonging to Alyse.
My mind snapped, and for a short period of time I lost control of myself. I screamed out and cursed in an uncontrollable tantrum. The people surrounding me backed off terrified. If the guards had not restrained me at that point, I might have succeeded in destroying the "Erotica."
CHAPTER FIVE
Outside, it was growing dark and the street lamp lighters were making their rounds.
I felt like I was dying from the effects of a poison I had absorbed. Following a cold chill I had felt, I had a burning sensation in my chest, which ascended to my head that was buzzing, and felt as if it would split like an iron plate heated white hot. I crossed the street of the Via della Stamperia moving away from the Galleria dell' Accademia, staggering and hesitating under the carriage wheels. Some of the cab drivers shouted for me to get out of the way. I paid them no heed.
I hurried on to escape from I knew not what. Maddened, torn by my emotions, I thought aloud! Alyse; My mistress! A woman to be proud of! To think that I have lived for several months with a carnal creature like her. Astonishing! Mario Aiello had stated to the press that his subjects were all drawn from live models, and that at no time did he employ his imagination in depicting the erotic scene.
What a disgrace! My brain burned with anger when I realized all the caresses I had bestowed upon the intimate areas of her body, others had bestowed before me and taken liberties with her that I had never dared to consider. I made up my mind I had to sweep away all the dirty, vulgar little images her name conjured up in my thoughts.
Suddenly I discovered myself standing in the courtyard leading to my duplex. My mind was made up. I would expel this woman from my house, cast her out upon the staircase without any explanation, thrusting upon her the insult of her name-pervert! Whore!
At the head of the staircase, I hesitated, reflected, passed on a few paces beyond the front door. Alyse would cry out, sob and let loose upon the house all the vocabulary of the gutter of which I was certain she was capable.
I could not face her. I had neither the courage nor the heart for it. I needed a drink.
Proceeding down the street, seized with fits of anger, sickness and despair in turn and by degrees, I was caught up in a whirligig of thoughts and adverse images. The boulevard became dark and deserted-a sickly odor hung in the hot air, and suddenly, without realizing how I arrived there, I recognized the entrance to Jim Corey's studio on Via Nazionale.
Of course! Jim was a man of the world. He was somebody I could talk to. He probably knew what I did not about Alyse. He would be able to advise me.
Inside Jim's building I was at once swallowed up by a boisterous crowd of revelers. Glittering lights, music, noise and confusion overlaid the party spirit.
"Where can I find Jim Corey," I inquired. "Have you seen Jim Corey?"
Nobody seemed to know or care. They were too busy drinking and dancing; the party was well on the way to becoming an orgy. I pushed my way up the stairs to the second floor in search of something to drink-some way in which I could blot out the image and memory of Alyse.
As I approached the second floor landing I caught sight of a bottle of cognac that had been left on the steps. It was more than half full-just what I needed. I gulped greedily from the bottle, some of the cognac spilling over by chin and spattering on my shirt. I did not care.
The cognac warmed my insides and I felt more controlled as it softened the anger and confusion I felt. Bottle in hand I wandered from one room to the other on the second floor, searching for Jim.
Entering Corey's large studio where most of the activity of his last party was centered I was enveloped in darkness. The large heavy door leading into the studio banged closed behind me cutting off the noise coming from the rest of the house. My eyes could not adjust so quickly to the blackness. There was no sound of the merriment that was going on downstairs, but low sighs, moans and heavy breathing were apparent.
Realizing that I had suddenly stepped into a mass orgy, I took another healthy gulp of cognac and proceeded to grope my way deeper into the room. After a few steps, a soft hand reached out from the darkness, stroked my face tenderly and then withdrew. I stopped and waited for a further contact, but nothing happened. Then I heard measured footsteps alongside of my own. A strong sturdy arm, obviously a masculine arm, encircled my waist and started to slide over my stomach to my crotch, but my own hands intervened with a firm, "No ... don't touch me."
Every few groping steps I felt warm, naked flesh against me, and erotic gestures from the darkness, warm wet lips touched my hands, my arms, the nape of my neck, and eager fingers explored between my legs to determine the extent of my arousal.
Indeed, it was growing.
At one point I tripped over a couple and fell to the floor. A pair of over-anxious hands were instantly upon me, clawing, groping, digging. They succeeded in tearing my trousers, and popping off a few buttons. Like an eel, the fingers were underneath my clothing making contact with my flesh, searching greedily for my penis.
"Oh, this one is for me," a woman's voice purred.
I liked the sound of the voice. I liked the deviltry of her touch. Not bothering to move from where I had fallen, I finished the bottle of cognac and relaxed. The nervous, eager hands drew my face toward hers and kissed me lustfully, hungrily. My arms were around her in a moment and I pulled her body closer to mine. I did not know what she looked like, if she was young or old. I did not care.
A moment later, while we were kissing, another pair of hands were tugging at her trying to pull her away from me.
"Damn you," a deep male voice said angrily," what are you doing? You've got to finish me off. Bitch!"
By the manner in which he yanked at her, I surmised the man to be a rough, burly customer.
"Let me go," the woman growled. "I found what I want." She struggled to disengage herself from his grasp.
"Finish what you start!"
Grabbing her legs, he began to pull her off me. By now the woman's lips were pressed firmly against mine. She could not speak out again, but she kicked back viciously with one foot. He gave one agonized groan and toppled over.
My head was spinning. I clutched frantically at the woman sprawled over me while her eager fingers dug underneath my clothing and sought the warmth of my flesh. To accommodate her, I tore open my shirt and trousers, exposing what was essential. I shivered as her nails clawed over my chest. Ardently, possessively, almost roughly her mouth blazed a scorching trail from my lips down to the tense, hard muscles of my stomach. I squirmed in twitching spasms as I attempted to pull up whatever it was she wore-I wanted to get at her body to give her as much pleasure as she was giving me. It seemed to be caught fast between her legs. Slowly, inch by inch, I uncovered her, my hands seeking, until they encountered not the yielding softness I had anticipated, but the uncompromising male stiffness of a penis. Revolted, I pushed the masquerader away and sat up, cursing under my breath.
Seized with a violent anger, I drew back my hand with the palm out and struck the boy, catching him on the side of the head. He screamed out and began sobbing.
"Serves you right, you damned fickle bitch," the boy's former partner said.
"There's trouble over here," another voice called out.
There was considerable shuffling about and then a pair of strong arms grabbed me, lifting me to my feet without effort. "Here's the trouble maker!" a familiar voice said.
Recognizing the voice, I offered no resistance as I was ushered out of the dark studio. Besides I needed both hands to hold up my torn trousers.
Once we were in the lighted hallway, Jim Corey let out a yell of recognition. "Greg! You beautiful man, I didn't know you were here. Why in hell did you not have yourself announced?" Feeling the effects of the cognac, I was confused and befuddled. "I have no idea what I am doing here, Jim," I admitted somewhat groggily. "I ... I had to talk to somebody ... and I found myself at your front door. Then I just got carried along while looking for you."
Jim's cheerful expression disappeared as he saw that I was extremely troubled. "Oh! You finally saw the "Erotica?"
Suddenly there came upon me an irresistible suffocating desire to cry. Jim took me by the arm and led me into a small private chamber where we could be alone. He closed the door and leaned against it. "So, you found out the truth at last," he sighed.
"Why did you keep it from me, Jim?"
"I warned you that first night. Then you fell in love. Why should I spoil that for you? It was your first experience ... and good for you."
"What should I do, Jim?"
"Stay here and get drunk," he advised. "And forget Alyse as quickly as possible."
"I cannot love her."
"That is the pity of it."
"Jim, was this Mario Aiello her lover?"
"I am nobody's information center. I like everybody and everybody likes me. I want to keep it that way." He crossed in to me, placed a firm
reassuring hand upon my shoulder. "You are too young a man to stay with one woman, Greg. I am glad to see you back in circulation."
I took a deep breath and admitted an alarming fact. "I am not sure I will be able to forget her."
While Jim thought about that, he left the room to fetch us two drinks. When he returned, he seemed to have an idea. "They tell me Alyse is madly in love with you. She goes nowhere ... sees no one. Is that true?"
"Yes!"
"Would you like to even the score?"
"What do you mean?"
"Right now everybody in Rome is talking about Alyse because of the painting. Scandalizing as it may be, most of the men of Rome would sell their souls for a night with her."
"Please, Jim, make your point."
Why not have most of the women of Rome selling their souls for a night with you? Some of the most beautiful ones are here tonight."
"What do I have to do?"
"An exhibition!"
"An exhibition?"
"Intercourse!"
"You must be mad."
"Tonight's party is an orgy. Everybody is doing it with everybody else. Nothing unusual. But a demonstration by you with three of the most beautiful women here ... you, Count Gregorio Quintero, young, handsome, rich ... a fresh new stag with the largest, longest, sturdiest antler in civilized society ... this will be an evening to remember. Every woman in Rome will be screaming to meet you." He paused to study my reaction. Jim knew me well enough to realize I was considering it. "Trust me, Greg. You have nothing to lose and a weird and exciting reputation to gain."
If I had taken any time to consider it, I would have lost my nerve. On impulse, however, at that moment I said "Get me drunk enough, Jim, and I will take on four women-all in different positions."
Jim grabbed me and gave me a hearty bear hug. "Great! This will be delicious, my boy! Miss Alyse Woodwin will know that you cannot be made a fool of."
About seven or eight drinks later I found myself costumed in a very short tunic like they wore in ancient Rome, waiting in a small anteroom off the main studio for Jim to make the introduction. That, I thought, would be interesting. Jim had lined up four very attractive and willing females. The alcohol consumed provided me with enough of a glowing sense of daring-do, but not so that I could not keep my wits about me.
All the candles were lit in the studio now, as Jim called all his guest together into the one room. They were jammed against the four walls, leaving only a small clearing in the center of the room. The guests were in various stages of undress ; some were very drunk, but all were happy excited and sexually aroused. They were ready for anything.
"Never let it be said," Jim was announcing, "that I do not provide my guests with colorful and vivid exhibitions on the various ways it can be done. By whatever name you call it, I refer to the undying art of coitus ... coition ... intercourse
... fornication, take your choice! But here to stimulate you with some new ideas on an old art is the great Gregorio, the beautiful young bull stud from Spain."
I emerged to the accompaniment of a deafening blast from a trumpet, followed by the four lovely models, who wore nothing more than thin stolas draped over the more pronounced contours of the bodies. A passageway was cut out for us through the crowd of guests and we took our positions in the center arena. The moment I saw the sea of faces surrounding me, I froze. Everybody was scrutinizing me. The shortness of my tunic became a source of embarrassment. It was a terribly uncomfortable moment.
Then the first model, a dark-eyed Italian beauty, stepped forward. She dropped her stola to the floor and stood before me stark naked, her olive-toned breast pointed toward me like the peak of Pierrot's cone-shaped cap. She was blessed by nature in every department. Her lips were full and sensuous, her eyes were the green of a sleek cat. She was extremely tall and large boned, with rounded hips and thighs. (The thatch between her legs was an enormous mound) I suspected that one would not have to be too gentle with her. I was right!
She smiled at me and then stretched out on the low divan that had been provided. The divan had no arm rests or back so that it made for perfect viewing from every angle.
The dark young beauty spread her voluptuous legs invitingly. She beckoned to me, but I stood staring at her, paralyzed, experiencing for the first time the sickening feeling of stage fright.
One eager young man stepped into the small arena with "I will take care of her, if he will not." He started to mount the girl on the divan and had to be pulled off by two of Jim's servants and carried bodily out of the studio.
I began to receive jeers and taunts from the audience until Jim stepped in to urge me onward. "Greg, my boy, you are a miracle man." he reminded me in a whisper. "Prove it to them. Go to her! Terrorize her with what you have."
The dark eyed beauty started flirting with me, using her eyes, her lips and her tongue. Suddenly, looking at her, I became aroused and totally unaware of the audience. I pressed forward with an ardor that caused her to tense with anticipation. I stroked her arms, letting my fingers crawl over her peaked nipples, over her undulating stomach, over the plentiful thatch of her puckering vulva. The audience began to urge me on with calls and cheers. My sensuous partner charmed and coaxed me into a position astride her. Stiffening and expanding rapidly, my large tool poked urgently against its cloth confinement. It was but a wisp of silk which quickly stretched to a point of tearing. My partner, in her anxiety to get to the root of my manliness, ripped the crotch-cloth away, taking with it the entire tunic, to reveal all of my attributes. The heavy weight of my erected cock flopped upon the girl's stomach with an audible thud, forcing a grunt of pleasure from the girl's throat.
The abnormal size of my weapon shocked the audience into vigorous applause and they urged me on to greater and more excitable heights. The three models waiting their turn, gazed in open mouthed astonishment as I leaped into action with my first partner. Moving from the astride position, I ensconced myself between her large thighs, permitting her to lock her ankles behind my back. I must say the young lady gave me her fullest cooperation. Once I made my initial entry, she appeared to be in no discomfort with my continued in and out movements, although she buried her fingers into my shoulders blades and bit upon her lower lip. She was so stimulated in the preliminary stage of my love-making that she had an orgasm well in advance of me. I refused, however, to let up on her and continued jamming my weapon into her. I persisted to the very verge of an exploding spasm, and then in consideration to my audience, I withdrew from her body seconds before I erupted and spurted out my passion over her stomach.
One down and three to go!
The audience was screaming, stomping and applauding, peeling off their own cloths as the heat of desire and passion grew within their own bodies.
The second model, was a petite blonde with very fair skin. She reminded me of Alyse. Eagerly she stepped forward as I started to lose my erection, grabbed me in her hand and used sufficient friction to revive my desires. She had long since discarded her stola, and I could see that her firm little body was twitching, unconsciously squirming in and out. Obviously she had been so stimulated by the first demonstration, she could not wait to get on with it. As soon as I was rigid, I did not waste time with her on preliminaries.
She was more than ready!
This time I used a position that is desirable when the woman is small and the man exceptionally large. At least I found it to be a restful change from the standard position most frequently used. Stretching out on the divan on my right side, I had the young lady lying in my arms with her back to me, and her left leg draped over mine. Her right leg was slight doubled up underneath her and somewhat separated from the left leg. I instructed her to separate the lips of her small vulva with her fingers, and by so doing I was able to insert my penis into her vagina easily enough. This little wisp of a girl started squealing and squirming, and we had a delightful time of it. After a while I turned slowly onto my back, holding tightly to the girl, making certain that her body remained firmly pressed against mine, until I had her sitting on top of me, her legs on either side of my hips. For a while we both moved up and down, and then I stopped, remained motionless, while she made as many squirming up and down, in and out, rotating movements as her heart desired.
At a moment or two before a mutual orgasm, she pressed herself down upon me with great force while I simultaneously elevated my hips as far as possible. Then as I exploded she sat erect in a state of semi-consciousness. What a delightful sensation that was. This way is not always easily facilitated, but because we were on a very narrow low divan, the young lady, still in a straddling position, was able to lower her legs on either side and touch her feet to the floor. This allowed her to raise up and we were able to achieve sensations which carried us both to a state of limbo.
Two down and two to go.
Little by little I was losing my audience, to their own sexual enterprise. They were so excited by my exhibition that they were doing it in standing positions, sitting, lying down, almost on top of other couples. They had become so aroused by watching me that they had to participate. I, on the other hand also became like a man obsessed.
Instead of tiring out, my physical prowess and sexual appetite seemed to be increasing. I felt like I never wanted to stop, like I had to climax again and again in a continuous flow of ejaculations until my body was drained dry.
At this particular point in the demonstration the image of the painting "Erotica" flashed into my mind and I was instantly possessed of a renewed fervor and lust.
Taking on the third model, a raven-haired lovely, I employed a position that is sometimes referred to as the quadruple posture, which had the young lady face down on the divan braced on her knees and elbows while I positioned myself behind her. I was able to reach around and fondle her full and rounded breasts, which seemed to drive her wild. I could feel the inside of her womb tensing and tightening against my distended shaft, making the sensation all the more agonizingly enjoyable. As I continued pumping number three with increasing force and tempo, my body became drenched in perspiration, draining off in tiny glistening beads onto her back. I watched it roll down her spine and over the mounds of her buttocks. I became so saturated with animal lust, I was lifted into a delirious, almost hypnotic state of ecstasy. My eyes kept going in and out of focus.
Everything appeared glazed and unreal.
Through the haze, I glanced out at the audience. One young man was voiding his passion into the mouth of an older man. One girl was locked into position between two men, their strong arms clasped in a chain, their muscular bodies crushing the small frame of the girl wedged in the middle. An older woman on her knees was licking the member of a very young boy, while close by a man-ish looking woman was helping another to strap on a black rubber dildo that protruded like a stiff rod from between her legs.
Unable to control herself, my raven haired partner compressed my inserted penis and experienced an orgasm before I was ready. She went limp over the divan and after lying still for a moment, she pleaded with me to withdraw. While still retaining a rigid erection, I consented.
Three down and one to go.
The frustration of withdrawing before ejaculation tormented and teased my sexual appetite. I beckoned to the fourth girl impatiently. My penis was throbbing and my pelvis kept moving back and forth without my willing it to do so. I seemed to have no control over my muscles now. I was propelled by another force.
Sitting on the edge of the divan this time, I had the last young lady sit astride and face me. Embracing and kissing, while my legs jostled the lady perched upon my knees. It produced a jerky sensation akin to masturbation that made a stimulating variation. I was already half way to completion when I invaded number four-a pity, as she was extremely lively and likable-so the intercourse reached a climax swiftly. I held back
as long as I could, waiting for her to approach an orgasm. For a while I thought I could not restrain the flood I had conjured for release, but then I recognized the desperate frantic ecstatic expression on number four's face and I knew she was ready. Just before the moment of release, I raised up off the divan onto my feet, raising the girl with me by placing my hands beneath her buttocks, while her legs were locked about my hips and her arms were clasped about my neck. We didn't lose contact for an instant.
Like a victorious gladiator, I transported the lady around the small arena, straining to hold her weight, while we were both exploding in mutual spasms of ecstasy.
This last demonstration awed the guests. When I removed myself from number four, who was near a state of collapse, my penis was still erect, its inflamed head still dripping.
There followed a stunned silence for an eternity of seconds and then the audience burst into an avalanche of cheers and bravos, whistles and applause. In turn I was stunned. I did not see what was so unusual about my demonstration. When I was a boy back in Spain I had heard stories about my father's sexual prowess that beat anything I could do. Nevertheless the group of perverted guests at Jim Corey's orgy thought there was something fantastic about a man who could take on four women, one right after the other, and still effect an ejaculation with the fourth while walking her about, supporting a share of her weight with a sturdy penis.
The guests thronged about me, men as well as women struggling to get near to me, hands reaching out to touch me, lips trying to kiss me, fingers attempting to grope my genitals. I felt a hundred and one sensations all at once, then the floor slipped out from under me and I was being elevated on the shoulders of a dozen or more guests.
Oh, God, I shall never forget the glory of that moment. Lips were kissing my feet. Tongues were licking at my exposed armpits, my throbbing staff. One of those that supported me on their shoulders had his squeezed fingers wrapped about the shaft of my penis. Other hands, other fingers fondled the cheeks of my buttocks, one finger plugged into my hole. I could not fight against such adoration. I let my body go limp and my head tilt back. They could do with me what they would.
That exact moment I caught an upside down glimpse of Alyse standing fully clothed in the doorway to the studio. Jim Corey stood alongside of her, roaring with laughter.
CHAPTER SIX
Eventually through the combined efforts of Jim Corey and his servants I was rescued from the admiring, cheering guests and escorted to the sanctuary of Corey's bedroom.
Beaming from ear to ear, Corey bolted the door. "Greg, you were magnifico! From here on you will be referred to as the King of lovers. You will become one of the great legends of Roma."
"Did I see Alyse here?"
"Yes! She came in during your fourth demonstration."
"How did she happen to be here?"
"I sent for her, Greg."
"Is she still here?"
"No, she left. She said to give you this." From his pocket he produced a key and dropped it into the palm of my hand.
It was the key to the duplex!
I sank to the foot of Corey's bed, the heart suddenly drained out of me. Yes, I loved her, and I did not wish to lose her. Now that I was as depraved as she was, Mario Aiello's painting did not seem to matter any more. "What about her clothes?" I gulped.
"She said she would arrange to have them picked up tomorrow." He recognized how badly I felt.-"Greg, trust me. You have not lost her. I know her better than you. She has never had a man cheat on her. She has always cheated on them."
I glanced up at Corey. "She has had other lovers?"
"Yes, but don't ask me about them." He crossed in and knelt before me. "Greg, I swear to you, she will be knocking on your door as soon as your reputation as a lover starts to grow."
"I never thought of myself as a great lover before."
"My boy, what I could do if I had your youth and looks and that thing you have swinging between your legs."
Suddenly I realized I was still naked. Corey's eyes were fastened on my crotch. He extended his hands, and his fingers brushed lightly and admiringly over the head of my penis. "Some day I want to do a statue of you."
Corey raised up and crossed back to the door. "I will have them sent in to you." He opened the door, and then before leaving, he turned back. "Why not plan on staying here a few days. I will soon have you out of the doldrums."
I made no answer. When my clothes-arrived, I got dressed and left, leaving a message with one of Corey's servants that I would visit him again in a few days, after I had time to think things over."
* * *
Corey was right. Within a few days I was the talk of Roma. Women approached me on the streets, in restaurants and introduced themselves to me, which only served to embarrass me. I was not a well known painter, writer or composer ... not even an actor. I was just a man involved in a lurid bit of gossip. It made me uneasy.
A feeling of shame at my own debauchery softened my attitude toward Alyse. If I knew nothing of her past it was because I had not asked. What right did I have to reproach her when I was capable of being as amoral as she? What right had I to judge her actions of the past when I was far more concerned about my own?
Had it not been for Alyse, however, none of it would have happened. I concluded that we were not good for each other; as a result of our affair, I had already suffered a great deal of anguish, and brought humiliation upon myself.
So far as I was concerned the affair was all over and I did not plan to see Alyse Woodwin again.
But it was more difficult to break off than I fancied it would be. Once more Corey was right. Alyse did try to contact me. Formally turned away from the door by Signora Vitale, she came again undiscouraged by my refusal to see her, by the closed door, by the inexorable orders.
"I have no pride, no respect for myself," she wrote in a letter. "Not when it concerns my love for you. I know now why you did what you did at Jim Corey's studio. You saw the "Erotica" and you wanted to shame me as much as I had shamed you. Let us start again. That you do not love me, I will not believe or accept; whether you wish it or not, I will make you love me ... or die."
She discovered the restaurant I was in the habit of frequenting and waited for me in front of the cafe. If I was with a friend, she simply followed me, waiting for an opportunity to find me alone again.
"Gregorio, my dearest, please let me come to you tonight. I need you so desperately. No? If not tonight, please name another night. You must!"
Without tears or making a scene, she would go away with a quiet resignation, leaving me with the feeling of remorse at my own harshness and the humiliation of the falsehood I stammered out at every meeting about being involved with another lady.
One evening a week after the party I dropped by Corey's studio and was pleased for a change to find him alone. He invited me to have dinner with him and afterwards we consumed a lot of Aquavit and talked.
Corey brought up the subject again of doing a statue of me. "I am serious, Greg ... life size! You have a magnificent build ... great bone structure. That always makes for a good subject." The Aquavit had a strange effect upon me. Blinking, my head dizzy, I tried to focus on Corey as he reached into the pocket of his red velvet smoking jacket and withdrew a small bag of tobacco and tobacco paper, and rolled a cigarette. Under more sober circumstances I might have thought it strange when he lighted the odd looking cigarette, inhaled the smoke deeply into his lungs and then placed the cigarette between my lips. "Inhale deeply" he instructed.
The cigarette had a strange odor.
"Take off your clothes," Corey was saying, "and let me do a few sketches of you."
I took several puffs on the cigarette and then Corey took it from me, guiding my wrist so that my two fingers touched his lips as he inhaled the smoke. Then I drew again on the rolled cigarette, taking the smoke deeply, and swallowing it. Soon I felt relaxed and light headed. All my tensions and frustrations crumbled away to nothing. I felt uninhabited, indifferent!
"Come on, Greg ... get out of those clothes so I can sketch you."
"You really mean to do a statue of me!"
"I do."
Thinking nothing of it, I stood up, turned away and started to disrobe. During the course of shedding my clothes, I noticed that Corey was doing the same.
I giggled. "Do you sketch me or do I sketch you?" As I have said, I felt light headed ... as if I was floating in space. Nothing mattered. Everything amused me. I was happy.
Therefore when I felt a warm breath in my ear, upon my neck, and exploring thumbs and fingers upon my chest and moving downward, I was pleased, exhilarated.
From here on I cannot separate the facts from the fantasy, so I will only attempt to touch upon it lightly, giving you a vague impression of what I experienced ... or what I thought I experienced.
These are my foggy recollections: Fanciful characters danced through my thoughts and began falling in slow motion. I fell with them, my legs spreading, my loins aching with an urgency. Everything was slipping away.
Then in a roaring flood of passionate craving, sturdy arms engulfed me, feverish lips bruised mine ... until there was a trickle of blood.
Everything became magnified!
Yes, I felt it all ... the penis growing ... rising ... protruding ... the salty taste of the sea that became flesh ... the sweet sweaty smell of male flesh ... the sensation of being swallowed up; hard muscles pressing and rubbing against hard muscles; the chocking sounds, deep down in the throat, the wetness of the tongue, the saliva of the mouth.
Then panic!
The biting, the soreness, the stretching of skin, the swelling ... the gnawing, drawing sensation ... the sensation of being drained.
All hell breaks loose; I hit out at something. It is a face ... a familiar face! The dam breaks ... there is a flooding ... a tongue ... an enormous tongue whips out and lashes back.
Soon I am floating again . ... numb ... indifferent.
Nothing is said. All is quiet.
Then there is an overwhelming feeling of shame. I am left alone. After that, a blind spot. Nothing!
When my senses returned to me, I was wandering the streets in the rain, my clothes soaked through to my skin.
Was it a dream? Do not ask! I do not know; and I did not have the courage to face Corey for a true explanation. If it had happened, I did not wish to know. I would have been too ashamed.
Fortunately, I did not have the chance to bring it up.
I caught a chill from wandering the streets in the rain and neglected it. Within a few days it took a turn for the worse. I was bedded down with fever and needed more than the attention that Signora Vitale could provide.
From the very first it was Alyse Woodwin who took her place at my bedside, and did not leave her post for days, nursing me untiringly without fear of contagion or disgust for my state, as adroitly as a hospital nurse with tender blandishments. Once or twice my paroxysms of fear carried me back to a serious illness in my youth, and I later learned that I sometimes addressed Alyse as my mother when I felt her warm affectionate hand upon my clammy forehead.
"It is not your mother, it is I; I am attending you ... Alyse, who loves you. It is my joy to care for you."
And indeed she did. At night she slept for short stretches at a time on a small sofa in the bedroom. It was as soft as the plank bed of a jailhouse cell.
About the time that my fever broke, I slipped out of my delirium late one evening, unbeknown to Alyse. I saw the strain and nervous tension my illness had imposed upon her, and the frustration she had suffered as a result of our separation.
I never mention to Alyse what I saw, like I have never questioned my friend Corey about our evening together. In both cases, I like to think they were specters of the mind instead of realities of the body. But if they were not, I know it matters little, for I discovered that in truth, none of us are flawless.
What I am about to divulge now is not with belief it sheds light upon the woman's inner torment and proves that she was a slave to a sexual hunger, living each day in quiet desperation.
She was sitting on the sofa reading a book, the nervous strain clearly etched upon her lovely face. She sighed and shook her head and closed her eyes. The past weeks days had taken their toll of her. She had denied herself physical pleasures or relaxation much too long.
Wearily, Alyse dropped the book into her lap. Not only was she fatigued, but she appeared to be uncomfortably warm. Because of my illness, the room had to be kept at a very high temperature. Suddenly irritated, she threw open her robe and exposed her naked body. Dreamily, she ran her fingers down the smooth texture of her satin flesh ... down, down to her thighs. She opened her eyes briefly. They were glazed, her lids were heavy. She closed them again, as a shiver ran through her body causing her to tremble.
Her fingers edged over to the furry mound between her legs. She tensed her muscles, arched her back. Instantly, as a result of the touch of her fingers upon the lips of her vulva, her rounded nipples began to stiffen and swell. Allowing herself to drop back on the sofa, she swung her legs way out, then bending them, she brought her knees together, wrapped her arms about them in a desperate hug.
After a moment, and another long sigh, she released her legs and stretched out on the sofa. As she did so, she spread her legs out and stiffened her body. Reluctantly, her hand went back to her puckering thatch and rested there. Slowly and deliberately I watched her index finger disappear into her vagina, and it remained there while her hand began a slight rotating movement. This play of the hand continued for a few minutes until her body began to squirm from pleasure, and she was forced to clasp her other hand over her mouth to stifle a moan.
When I was sure her endeavor had brought about a release, I turned my head, closed my eyes and called out to her softly.
"Alyse ... are you there?"
I heard her leap to her feet and she rushed to my bedside. She was adjusting her robe as she knelt down before me. "Yes, my dearest, I am here."
"Thank you."
"How do you feel? Are you better?"
"Yes ... I think so."
"Thank God. You have been delirious for days. Your fever must have broken."
"Come back," I whispered. "Come back. I have missed you."
"I am back, my love."
"Don't leave me. I am so ashamed of what I have done. Can you forgive my jealousy?"
"I am the one to ask to be forgiven. But I will try very hard in the future to be a better person. And even if you whip me and beat me, I will not leave you again. Hereafter you will have to kill me, if you wish to be rid of me."
That statement came close to becoming the truth. I was soon to become obsessed in my love for this woman, and I had to kill a man before our relationship ended.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Light seemed to press at my eyelids, forcing me to open them and gaze out at the world. I didn't want to, I wasn't yet ready to face reality. But the vague recollections of wondering about the streets of Rome-and of begging Alyse to return to me-wouldn't lie dormant. Cautiously, I opened one eye a fraction and looked out at my bedroom, recalling the words I had spoken to my love-the words that had sealed my fate forever. I had thrown away the last vestige of honor, self respect, and dignity for an insatiable love goddess! I had to laugh silently at that, recalling the painting that had immortalized Alyse's magnificent body and untamable spirit. Love Goddess! Rather, Sin Goddess, a title more fitting to her nature.
My idle thoughts were interrupted as the bedroom door opened and Alyse entered quietly. Between half-closed lids, I watched her as she went about her chores, from time to time turning toward me with a soft smile on her luscious lips. She was the Devil! Vague memories of a warm sexual nature kept nagging at me, but I couldn't bring them into focus ... until Alyse moved to the edge of my bed and gently turned down the covers. Thinking me still asleep, she withdrew my limp member from my sleeping gown and proceeded to massage it with great skill.
The air was refreshing, and my organ began to swell in her palm. Still keeping my eyes tightly shut, I decided to enjoy the marvelous sensations she was causing me, and pretend to be deep in sleep. Alyse, obviously fooled into believing that I was still in a semi-coma from the fever that had raged through my body since the infamous night of Jim's party, quickly bent her head and encompassed my tool in her soft, sweet mouth. Her manipulations were gentle yet extremely skillful, almost too skillful. Nevertheless, I had cast my lot with this woman of dubious virtue and I was helpless to resist her mysterious sexual attraction.
Without warning, my rod had reached the limit of its endurance. My seed spurted into the air, dousing my belly, the bedclothes, Alyse's hands and face, everything. I could pretend no more, and reaching out my arms, enfolded her in them, crushing her warm, lithe body to my burning chest. Pushing at me, she tried to rise.
"Do not leave just yet. Sit beside me and talk."
"But I must clean you up," she protested, in vain. I held her even more tightly, a feeling of supreme love enveloping my body.
"Thank you," I whispered, then taking a deep breath, went on. "Alyse, I have done a great deal of thinking. We shall get married and leave Rome."
"Oh," she cried, half startled. "But where shall we go, dearest?"
"Some place that is free of temptations," I advised her. "A place where no vestige of your past will remain to haunt you-or me."
Alyse laughed, sure that I was merely teasing her. "You want to marry me?"
"Yes," I answered a solemn look on my face. "I cannot live without you, so therefore I shall live with you, legally."
"Ah, dearest," she sighed. "If it were only possibly. But, Gregorio, I will not marry you." It was now my turn to be startled. I almost shouted at her, "Why?"
"Because I do love you, too much to see you ruined on my account. No, Gregorio, it would be a madness that I am not capable of committing. Please forget you ever spoke the word marriage to me!"
I knew she spoke the truth. Silent, I gazed into her eyes, seeking to know the manner of demon that lurked within them. I saw nothing-I saw everything! I closed my eyes, and allowed myself to sink back into the slumber of the dead.
She had won-again.
* * *
My fever passed, and our affair resumed on the same basis, although there seemed to be a new air of careless abandonment surrounding Alyse. She was certainly as tender and attentive as the night we had met, and yet there were times when she would surprise me in her blatant need to shock, to outrage.
Whereas before Alyse had tried to remain demure in my presence, now she took no such pains and allowed her thoughts about the infamy of men, the treachery of women, the debauchery of sex to pour forth. At times, even the coarse snort of the common harlot would escape those delicate lips and all the practiced caresses and intimacies of the professional courtesan were at her fingertips. Why did I not leave her in disgust? Ah, why! No matter that I came of nobility, that I had been raised to seek a lady of birth and breeding-when Alyse murmured the gutter words in my ear, when she attempted to draw me into her spider's web of evil lust, I went.
"How many men have known the joy of your caress, of your mouth, of your vagina, of your ass?" I asked her one night in a fit of tormented jealousy.
"Many," she replied, laughing. "Many before you, none since."
"And what of Mario Aiello?" I pursued the forbidden subject still further. She would never speak of this man, would never tell me what evil perversions she had practiced with him. I hated his name!
"Please, Gregorio! I cannot tell you anything ... not now. Perhaps someday, but not how.
Her defiance of my wishes made me angry with her, and consumed by a fire that would not be put out, I grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pushed her on the sofa.
"I have had enough of your nonsense," I spat. "You shall tell me immediately-or I shall make sure you are very sorry, indeed!"
Alyse's eyes brightened at the suggestion of a battle. Tossing her mane of her away from her sinuous face, she looked me straight in the eye. "No! No, no and no!"
I must admit, she was more than I could bear at the moment. Beside myself with rage, I reached out and grasped a handful of her dinner gown in one hand. Abruptly, I pulled the thin material away from her body, delighting in the ripping sound as her breasts appeared to my gaze. She had not bothered to wear any undergarments, preferring as she often told me, to feel the subtle coarseness of her gown rubbing across her nipples as she moved. It was thus that she kept herself in a constant state of sexual readiness.
Alyse, her eyes now shooting sparks, sat perfectly still, continuing to stare at me in open defiance. I ripped the gown completely off her glowing body, taking pains to make sure I did it brutally. She winced as the material caught in several places, then gave way under my greater strength. Several red welts appeared around her hips and thighs-the sight of them produced a warm, burning sensation in my loins-I was on fire!
"Stand up," I ordered her in a harsh voice. "Immediately!"
Wrinkling her nose, she did as I told her. "And now, Gregorio, what masterful reprimand do you have in mind for me?" she taunted "Come, let me see how virile you are. Break me, if you can. I doubt it!" And so saying, she turned her back to me and bent over the sofa, presenting me with an enticing view of her bare buttocks and delicate anus. I could not resist her challenge!
Quickly, I stripped off my clothes, taking care to dislodge my heavy leather belt from my trousers before letting them drop to the floor. My rod was at full mast, the enormous head bright red in anticipation of the thrills to come. The moment it was free it sprang forth and bounced there, between my legs, a supreme monument to the spell Alyse had cast upon me.
"Bend over further," I whispered. "We shall see how brave you are." Without further ado, I brought the strap down hard on her twin globes, a dizzy feeling of some mad, crazy lust filling my head, my lungs, my stomach. She did not cry out!
Again and again I brought the strap down, my eyes glazing over as welt after welt appeared on her creamy soft skin. "Tell me," I cried. "You must!"
Alyse remained motionless, her head buried in the soft down pillows of the settee. Only her hands showed the strain she was under, her knuckles were white with the effort of holding back her tears. Suddenly I could bear it no longer and, with a groan, cast aside the belt and grabbed her well curved hips in both hands. Spreading the cheeks of her buttocks even wider apart, my lance rammed into her anal passage with fast, brutal strokes. I had penetrated her on the second try, although she was quite dry and tight. I knew I was hurting her, knew it and loved every minute of it!
My climax was abrupt. Battering her fragile body with my tree-like weapon, I was caught up in a delirium of pleasure such as I had never known but in my wildest fantasies. It was as if Alyse was not there with me-she was merely a warm, feminine cave of love-a receptacle for my passion and my lust, my fears and my hatreds. Only I existed, aflame with my own sexuality ... my own perverted pleasure ... my own evilness.
My overheated organ spurted a great fountain of juice into her deepest recesses, and I released her from my grip, allowing her limp body to sprawl in a heap across the couch. I felt sick, I wanted to vomit up all the bile, all the depravity she had brought to the surface in me. I hated her at that moment-hated her with a strange fascination that wouldn't allow me to leave her. She had won again ... as always, by allowing my own carnal desires to devour me.
I turned and went to my room, leaving her without a word. We never spoke of the incident again.
* * *
One evening while we sat quietly before an open fire, I chanced to ask Alyse about her life in America before she had left home. A closely guarded secret until this night, Alyse seemed to want to prove her devotion by revealing the truth about herself at long last. She came and sat at my feet, nestling her dainty head on my lap like a small puppy.
"Until I was twelve," she began, "I never knew a real home. My mother, bless her soul, was an actress of no real fame. But, Gregorio, she was so beautiful and kind. Men could deny her nothing! I never knew my real father, having been born illegitimately, but my mother tried to make up for it.
"I suppose she could have married many times, but it is not easy to ask a man to accept the responsibility of someone else's child. And mother would not place me in a home,, she wanted to have me near her.
"Then, one season, she toured the New England states in a play by William Congreve. It was in Boston that she met my step-father, Oscar Woodwin. He was a vain man, much given to outward appearances, and he was determined to possess my mother the moment he first saw her.
"I know she did not care for him," Alyse went on, "but he assured her that he would take me in as well, and provide a good home and education for me. My mother thought it would be best for me, and so she agreed to become his wife.
"We went to live in an enormous mansion, but it was not a happy home. My step-father was extremely strict and puritanical, and kept us under close wraps until I was sixteen. Then I was sent away to boarding school to become a young lady. It was a marvelous relief to escape from the man. I had grown to hate him passionately but I was in no position to do anything but keep quiet.
"It was during my eighteenth summer, while I was home on vacation, that my mother became seriously ill. She was confined to her bed and could only have visitors for a brief period of time each day. The doctor, as I discovered later, had also cautioned my step-father about making sexual demands on my mother.
"One evening I was in my room preparing for bed. Although it was still early, there was nothing else to do ... even the servants had been dismissed for the night. At this age, I must tell you I had learned a little about sex from my mother but I had never even been kissed by a boy. Naturally, I wondered what it was all about, but not overly much. I knew that some day I would marry and my husband would introduce me to this mystery of life.
"Until that night I had no idea of the power I held over men, nor did I realize that if I chose I could bend them to my will with my body. I was well developed for my age but extremely naive. So it was that I sat before my dressing table, wearing only a thin cotton nightgown, braiding my hair, when my step-father entered my room unannounced.
"I was startled, for he had always stressed modesty and propriety in the house. Now he had broken his own rule, dressed as he was in a nightshirt and slipper. Suddenly the picture of him, trying unsuccessfully to remain pompous, struck me as terribly funny and I burst into laughter."
"Perhaps you will be so kind as to tell me what you find so amusing," he said sourly.
"I have never seen you in your nightshirt before, sir," I giggled. "You look funny!"
"Do I indeed," he snapped as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. "Are you being insolent?"
"Oh, no, sir." I hastened to assure him. "Very well, then. Come and sit beside me. I have much to talk with you about."
I wanted to slip into my robe but my stepfather had chosen the very spot it occupied on my bed to sit down. I took my place beside him.
"Now, child, I am sure you know that your mother is very ill and cannot be exposed to any disturbance. She must have complete rest for several months."
"Yes, sir. I shall do my best to cause her no trouble."
"Good. To continue, you must realize that you are now entirely my responsibility. It is fortunate for you that I have developed a great fondness toward you."
"Thank you, sir." I replied, keeping my eyes modestly downcast. I was still not sure why he had picked this time to discuss so little with me, but I had not the right to ask him to take his leave.
"Ah, I have been thinking a great deal about you lately, Alyse," he continued, "A great deal! And I have decided that you are now of the right age to begin thinking of your future, especially of marriage."
"Mother has explained everything to me, sir." I replied somewhat embarrassed.
"Yes, well. However, your mother cannot give you the proper training."
"Training?" I inquired. "What do you mean"
"I mean that I would not wish to see you disappointed in your first sexual experience, so therefore I shall take it upon myself to provide that experience for you ... an experience you need not be afraid of."
I was convinced I had not heard him correctly. I stammered, "You mean, sir, that you and I...." I stopped, at a loss for words.
"Exactly, my dear. Since we are not of the same blood it will be perfectly all right."
I had heard enough at this point to be mortally afraid. Quickly, I slipped off the bed and to the door, only to find he had locked it and taken the key when he entered. I turned to face him, and was almost sick at the lewd sneer I saw on his face. Oh, how I hated that man! He was depraved!
Finding no avenue of escape open to me I begged him to leave my room, to let me be. But no, he only laughed his odious laugh and commanded me to stand before him. Hoping to some how soften his heart, I did as he told me, moving toward him on shaking legs.
When I was within reach, he took hold of my arm in a savage manner and yanked me to him.
I pulled and tugged but I could not get him to release me. "If you dare to touch me, I will kill you," I screamed.
He only smiled and stood up to face me. "After all I have done for you, I am gravely displeased." His hand flashed through the air and landed on the side of my cheek with a stinging impact. I reeled backwards but managed to reclaim my footing. I stared at him in horror as he moved in closer and forced me to retreat back to the foot of the bed. "How dare you defy me," he said, and smacked me once again.
"If you do not get out of this room and leave me alone, I will start screaming. The neighbors will hear. Mama will hear. The police will come."
"Yes," he said with a devilish smile. "Scream and let your mother hear you. That would surely kill her."
Fear began to take possession of me like I have never experienced before. I turned on my heels and ran quickly to the window to scream for help. But before I could get the window up, a heavy hand grabbed me and yanked me back into the center of the room. I lost my footing this time and fell to the floor. "I will never submit to you," I cried.
"You will do what I order you to do," he returned sharply, as he stood towering over me, his legs spread apart in a stance. From the floor looking up at him he appeared to be a powerful figure, a tower of strength. It was terrifying.
As I struggled to get back on my feet, he grabbed my shoulders and shook me violently. "Hear me, young lady, and understand what I am about to say. I have wasted enough of my time on your mother. More than I care to admit. I married your mother and I gave her a home and respectability. And why, do you suppose? Because I loved her? Never! I married her so that I could keep my eyes on you. I saw something in that baby face ... something I wanted. I have waited patiently for it, and now I am going to take it, one way or the other. So stop fighting. You belong to me."
"Never!" I could not resist the opportunity to deflate his male ego. I burst into laughter. "You fool ... you stupid old fool."
"You dare to call me a fool!"
Once more I felt the impact from the back of his hand. I just smirked at him. "While you have been waiting for me to grow up," I said, "hanging around licking your lips waiting to be the first one to get into me...." I paused, threw back my head laughing in his face, not caring how he reacted to what I was about to say.
"While I have been waiting ... what? he demanded intensely.
"A handsome young boy beat you to it."
His mottled face darkened. "You are lying to me."
"While I was away at school. In fact there were several.
"That is impossible."
"No, A lot of the girls at school were able to sneak off the grounds late at night."
"That's a lie ... a lie," he cried out. "You are just trying to hurt me. "I've waited all these years for the right moment to claim what belongs to me....
"I belong to nobody," I yelled back, swinging my arm out to hit him. His hand caught my wrist in midair while his other hand grabbed the side of my hair that was braided and twisted me around. I tried to scream out but the only sound to escape my throat was a thin tight gasp as I felt myself being hurled back onto the bed. Kicking and clawing and cursing, I fought wildly to extricate myself from his strong arms, but he held me firmly to the mattress, I could feel myself tiring, weakening, and the realization that I might have to give in to him spurred me into a renewed frenzy and panic. Somehow I broke free and started running toward the bedroom door, but once again he caught me and hurled me back violently to the bed.
"Now you will know what it is to have a burning cock stabbed into your flesh," he snarled. That was the first time I had heard it referred to as a cock. It surprised me to hear it from his lips. When he was physically aroused, however, he had a filthy lurid tongue. "At last I will know the joy of battering in the door of your young cunt, of tearing through that wall of tissue, and penetrating deep into your bloody womb to rob you of your ruby jewel."
He lunged at me, forcing me back onto the bed causing me to bounce like a ball upon the mattress, I instinctively drew up my legs and locking my knees together, clutched at my legs protectively. He began pawing me, his fingers catching the neckline of my nightgown and ripping it all the way down my back as though it were made of paper. I tried desperately to crawl away from his hands, but they were everywhere all at once, fondling, squeezing, smacking. I started to cry when I stared down in dulled dismay at my exposed nipples. They appeared to be expanding along with my breasts, becoming hard and rigid.
"The Devil will take you to hell for this," I cried trying to cover my breasts with my hands. The more I moved upon the bed, squirmed about, the faster my torn nightgown slipped away from me. Eventually I was curled up in a ball stark naked upon the bed. I was so humiliated I could not move.
My step-father seized upon the moment to shed his robe and night shirt, exposing his fat, ugly physique to my terrified eyes. You can imagine what I was going through, being a young girl, never having been seduced by a man. It is a terrible experience. The fact that I was being assaulted by my step-father ... my mother's husband ... made it all the more horrible.
He was brutally formed, his stocky penis overpowering and frightening. I had never seen one before ... only on statues and in paintings. He flung his night shirt aside and fell upon the bed, his eyes wild with lust and insanity. He was all over me, his weight crushing the breath out of my body, his strong expansive chest crushing my breasts. I could not help gasping wildly, feeling the hot gusts of his foul breath searing my cheeks. I tried to jerk my head away in disgust and tugged at his forehead in a frantic effort to pry his mouth away from my neck and throat.
"No ... oh, dear God ... no. Don't let this happen."
I tossed and squirmed and strained, biting at his shoulder. Tears scalded my cheeks as I waged a final and ultimate struggle. My lungs ached from the exertions of my gasping sobs. Pinned down by his heavy weight. I was powerless, but I would not let myself submit. I continued to fight him off, goaded by the hot contact of his dripping penis against by burning thighs.
A rocket exploded, stunning by brains, stilling and paralyzing my actions. The first time is always the most horrifying. The blow split my lips, bringing blood to the corners of my mouth. It tasted salty and warm and sickening. When it was over I lay dazed, limp and boneless, my breasts heaving, my eyes glazed, the ringing in my head resounding over and over again. I felt like I had slipped into purgatory. Somehow, through the haze, I saw him rise slightly and hover over me. He had taken me so brutally and suddenly, and now I felt so ugly and naked and defenseless beneath him.
"Please, I whimpered brokenly, pleadingly, seeing his ugly fat face as it loomed above me. Then I felt his hands lifting me again.
"No, not again," I screamed, as my body arched under, the renewed pain of his second penetration. He held me fast, forcing me to accommodate his battering second assault ... I finally became so exhausted, I no longer strained against him, but lay passive and indolent in his sweating arms.
My moans were continuous and plaintive.
What a sad thing for a young girl to endure. The pounding waves of sensation swept over me as his second assault drove the breath from my body. I felt caught up in a whirlwind of violence and pain and humiliation. The small fragment of my brain still able to function cried out in protest at what was happening, to the use I was being subjected by a brute who had been made my step-father by law.
The pain enveloped me ... It was as if I were being tom apart by his savage hunger ... The second time took him longer. It seemed to go on and on and on until I could no longer think, no longer feel, no longer hear.
Then suddenly it ended. He collapsed on top of me, dripping with perspirations, suffocatingly heavy.
Ashamed and disgusted, I could not stop from crying ... I was without any strength, without any will, my innocence was shattered.
"You lied to me," he chuckled. "I was the first. It was worth waiting for."
I closed my eyes. "I loath you."
"I was the first" he repeated, a note of pride in his statement ... pride and satisfaction.
His words hung heavy in the stillness of the room. Vaguely in the back of my mind I heard a door open, I knew it had something to do with me, but I was so miserable and exhausted that nothing registered until my step-father sprang to his feet stark naked and dashed to fetch his robe. I looked up and slowly the background came into focus. My poor mother stood in the door way, holding onto the door for support, stunned into a frozen position, looking dumbfounded at her husband.
I wanted to die."
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was horrified at Alyse's tale, but it served to make me realize many things about her which heretofore I could not figure out. Having been brought up in a strict home by a fanatical stepfather, she had no contact with boys of her own age and was truly naive when it came to sex. The shock of being raped by her mother's husband left a deep scar, causing her basic distrust of men and her desire to hurt them, humiliate them, destroy them. In doing these things, she was getting revenge on her step-father. It was no wonder, then, that she went wild when she found herself on her own, no longer a virgin, with a comfortable allowance to live on in the fabulous city of Rome.
I resolved to be more lenient with her after this, taking into account the misery she had undergone before her arrival in Europe. Loving her as I did, without restraint, made me sure I could fill the empty void she struggled to hide from the world. I, in my blindness, thought that now I knew the real Alyse Woodwin and, in knowing her, could tame her and control her. But no man really knew Alyse, or the depth of her lust and sexual hunger. All who tried were destroyed in the doing.
One morning over breakfast Alyse informed me about the revival of an old cult that was growing among the pagan artists and models in Roma. "What kind of a cult," I inquired.
"Witchcraft," she replied airily as she munched upon a muffin.
"You mean black magic and hokus pokus and that sort of thing?"
"Phoebe was telling me about it," she went on to explain. This surprised me as I did not know until this moment that she had started seeing Phoebe again. "They meet regularly in small groups in the catacombs of St. Calixtus and hold wild rituals. We ought to go sometime."
"Why get involved with a group of heathens?" I asked.
"It might be fun," she gushed. "They dance and chant and perform their rites without any clothes."
"You mean they are naked?"
"Stark naked I am told. It represents the putting aside of all worldly goods. It might be exciting to see."
"Where are these catacombs?"
"Oh, Gregorio, if you have never seen them, I must take you sometime ... during the day when they have conducted tours.
"That I would be interesting in doing," I replied.
"It's very exciting. People have been known! to wander into the catacombs and never be heard from again. They get lost and die in there. There j are skeleton bones all over the place."
Changing the subject for a moment, I asked her, "When did you start seeing Phoebe again?"
"Oh," she murmured, caught off guard I suspected, "When we were separated I asked if I might stay with her awhile and she allowed me to visit her. We've been having lunch occasionally since then. Why," she smiled, "Do you mind?"
"Of course not. In fact I'm happy to see that you are in contact with your old friends again. I don't think it's very healthy to shut yourself off from the world the way you have the last few weeks. In fact, when we visit the catacombs, why not ask Phoebe and Jim Corey to join us?"
Alyse hesitated just a moment before bubbling her enthusiastic approval of my idea. I knew she was afraid that I had an ulterior motive-I did! I wanted to test her, to see if she was really as strong as she wanted me to believe. However, in doing so, I found that I was also testing myself!
* * *
A week later, on a sunny Sunday morning, the four of us met at the entrance of the catacombs to join one of the guided tours that went down into the black depths every hour on the hour. I felt rather foolish, though it would be a pleasant diversion for an afternoon and I also hoped this trip would take Alyse's mind off the pagan rituals she had mentioned. I had enough trouble with her without looking for a new source.
As we followed our guide along the dusty red clay corridors of the cave, I saw many fragments of skeletons, silent tribute to some unfortunate soul's last moments on earth. The place was mildewed, dank, and gave me the creeps. I said nothing.
Phoebe and Alyse seemed morbidly entranced with the place and they ran on ahead, hand in hand, exclaiming over bits of bone or an occasional skull. Their fascination for the dead was disturbing but I consoled myself with the knowledge that we would soon again be out in the sunshine, surrounded by the fresh air and odor of life. Alyse, I reasoned, would then forget this awful journey.
We continued our downward trip by a gradual descent over crudely hewn steps, the narrow passageway widening as we moved deeper into the pit of the earth.
"How dismal," I commented. "I wish I knew what we were doing here!"
Jim spoke up at that moment. "What frightens me is the possibility of getting lost down here!"
"Has anyone ever been lost," Phoebe eagerly queried the guide, apparently hoping to hear that they had.
"Surely, signorina. In my father's time, a man murdered his wife and her lover and hid himself in the catacombs to escape the authorities. He has never been seen since, though some say his ghost walks the passageways at night, seeking to avenge itself on any living human it meets."
"Oooh," Alyse shrieked. "Do you really believe that!"
"It is just a story they tell, signorina. Don't be alarmed by it." The guide had been progressing in his tour meanwhile, and we had now reached a large circular room, the walls of which we could barely see through the thick gloom. I turned to pass a remark to Alyse, and it was then that I noticed she was not with our group.
"Have you seen Alyse?" I quickly asked Jim.
"Why, no. She was behind us just a few moments ago."
The four of us turned round in a circle, seeking to penetrate the darkness of the circular room.
"Come on, Gregorio," cried Jim. "Bring your torch and we will seek her out."
But the guide held us back, and assured us all that there was no possibility of finding our lost companion by searching for her. We too might get lost. Only by shouting at the very top of our voices might she relocate us. As the sound would go very far along these narrow passages, there was a fair possibility that Alyse might hear our calls and be able to retrace her steps. So, accordingly, we all began to shriek and bellow with the utmost force of our lungs. Ten minutes went by. We were almost hoarse when we heard a responsive call in a faint, female voice.
"It was Alyse," I cried hopefully. "I know her voice."
We waited and listened carefully and eventually Alyse's form became discernible by her own torch, approaching from one of the black cavernous passageways. She moved forward slowly, but not with the eagerness of a lost girl and she made no immediate response to our inquiries. She looked pale, as well she might, and held her torch with a nervous grasp.
"My darling!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms about her. "Where have you been? Why did you stray from us?"
She stared at each of us and gave a strange little laugh. "I have just witnessed the most unusual sight. I cannot speak of it just yet. But this ... this gentleman brought me back." She turned and pointed toward the mysterious black ness.
Surprised by Alyse's remark, we all turned to stare at the passageway she had emerged from and sure enough, a tall, lean man stood at the threshold of the small illuminated area. His appearance was frightening, his face gaunt with exceedingly huge eyes that burned with a fanatical intensity.
Jim approached him. "Who are you?" he asked the stranger. "How long have you been wandering about these passageways?"
Our guide meanwhile had also advanced toward the man, and suddenly he gave a loud cry. "It is the ghost of the wife killer I told you about."
"Nonsense," I replied, determined to keep my head. "It is just surprising to see someone else down here without a guide!"
At this point, the stranger began to speak in a raw, deep voice that did indeed send chills up and down my spine.
"Do not ask who I am nor where I came from," he said. "It is she who called me forth and now she must pay the consequence for my reappearance in this world."
I stole a look at Jim and saw that he was thinking the same thing as I: the man was obviously some kind of a deranged lunatic. I gave our trembling guide a push forward and grabbed Alyse by the arm. "Come on, let's get out of this God-forsaken place."
Leaving the stranger to his self-imposed exile, we hurried to the mouth of the catacombs, glad to be back in the land of the living!
It was only then that I remembered that Alyse had mentioned seeing a strange sight.
Curious, I asked her what it was she had witnessed.
"Oh, nothing, Gregorio. It was just my imagination. Please forget I ever mentioned it." And so saying, she walked ahead to join Phoebe and terminated our brief conversation. I felt that she was deliberately holding back something from me, but I thought it better not to pursue it at the moment.
The four of us decided to call it a day and we withdrew to our separate abodes, promising to get together for dinner in the near future. Just as Phoebe took her leave of us, I noticed Alyse whisper something in the girl's ear. Phoebe looked startled, then whispered something back. Both kissed on the cheek, as though they had never made love to each other, and waved goodbye. Probably some girlish confidence, I thought to myself, and let the memory fade from my mind.
* * *
The next two weeks passed without incident. Alyse was as warm and sweet as is humanly possible, and I delighted in her attention. We made love often and in many various positions, never tiring of each other's bodies. We took long walks, marveling at the fine weather. All went smoothly, until one night after supper Alyse complained of a murderous headache which would give her no peace.
"Darling," she inquired of me softly, "Would you mind very much if I took my leave of you and went to sleep early? Perhaps that will ease the pain in my head.
"Of course I don't mind," I smiled at her, basking in the glow of her concern for my feelings. "Go up now and I will join you in several hours."
"Oh, I think I should sleep in the spare room tonight," she quickly went on. "You know how I toss and turn when I don't feel right-and I would hate to know I was keeping you awake."
"As you wish," I said, the first suspicion of disbelief crowding into my mind. "Then I shall see you again in the morning, for breakfast. Come and give me a kiss, my love."
Alyse ran to my side, her eyes on fire, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. That in itself was enough to warn me that something was up. Normally, she would have sat on my lap and tried to draw my juices out of me with her tongue. Tonight, however, she seemed in a hurry to escape from my presence.
"Good night, dear Gregorio. Miss me, my love!" And with that she was gone.
I busied myself for several hours by catching up on several pieces of correspondence I had been neglecting; then I poured myself a glass of old port and retired to my room. After making my toilette, I climbed into bed, alone for the first night in a long while, and pretended to fall into a deep sleep.
Sure enough, about an hour later, I heard the door to my bedroom open. Peeking out from beneath half-closed lids, I saw Alyse framed in the doorway. She stood there for a moment, until her eyes became accustomed to the darkness of the room. Then, tip-toeing in, she stood beside my bed and studied my face in sleep. Apparently satisfied that I was deep in the land of Nod, she smiled a cat-like grin, and turned away.
As soon as the door had closed again, I sprang out of bed and pulled on a pair of trousers and a shirt, not bothering with the rest of my clothes for fear I would lose sight of Alyse in the street. It couldn't have been more than two minutes after her departure when I reached my front door. Opening it cautiously, I poked my head out and saw a dim figure just rounding the comer at the end of my block. Sure that it must be Alyse, I pulled the door shut behind me and began to follow her.
The dim figure in front of me spent the better part of an hour passing from one narrow street to another, ducking into alleyways and cutting through tangled and overgrown backyards. Finally, when I had begun to feel particularly silly, Alyse stopped and whistled a low call. In a moment, another figure joined her and, together, they continued their strange journey. I followed, my curiosity now at a feverish pitch.
Ah! Then it dawned on me-we were headed in the direction of the catacombs of St. Calixtus! So Alyse had seen something that day, something she knew I would disapprove of!
Although the night was cold I was sweating with excitement by the time I reached the mouth of the catacombs. Alyse had picked up a torch from someplace and I could barely see the dim light it cast as I began to follow her down into the center of the earth. This time the caves were as silent as death itself and it took my complete concentration to trace Alyse's footsteps without making a sound.
It seemed as though an hour had passed, although I knew it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, before the passageway I was following opened into a large room, similar to that which we had visited with Phoebe and Jim. I stood, transfixed, at the opening to the area, my head ringing with strange, haunting chants.
In the middle of the room roared a huge bonfire, it's glow making weird patterns on the root of the cave. Around this raging combustion was a circle, formed by about thirty people, both male and female-all were naked! Obviously, this was the pagan ritual of which Alyse had spoken once-but how had she stumbled upon it-and why?
A little to one side I noticed a structure that looked somewhat like an altar. Surrounding it were four young girls, also completely naked, kneeling with their heads bowed as if in prayer. As my eyes became accustomed to the fire-lit room, I was able to perceive a throne-like chair to the right of the altar. It was raised up on a dais, and on it sat one of the most grotesque women I have ever seen or hope to see. She seemed to be the high priestess and, although also naked, wore a long gold necklace that dangled between her saggy breasts. Her age was indeterminate, but she had long black hair that reached to her buttocks and fiery eyes that seemed to bore right through me, even though I knew she could not see me in my hiding place.
The chant continued, gaining momentum as the dancers quickened their pace around the fire. "Eko Eko Gananas, Eko Eko Azarak," they intoned in shrill voices, seemingly incensed by the sound of their own voices. It was a frightening sight, I can tell you!
My mind, at first stunned by this unexpected sight, now remembered why I had come to this desolate cave in the first place and I looked around for Alyse. She was standing just outside of the circle of dancers, removing the last piece of clothing she had on. As I watched in horror, she moved to a low table that held several pots and dipped her hands into one of these containers. They came out coated with a white substance which I was later to discover was a combination of aconite and belladonna, an ointment which produces a trance-like state somewhat akin to that produced by heroin.
Standing with her feet wide apart, Alyse proceeded to rub her entire body with the ointment, careful not to neglect even her most private and intimate parts. When she was finished, her body glowed with an unearthly shine which made her easier to see in the darkness. Suddenly, another young woman approached her and began to kiss her on the lips in an embrace that was equal in passion to those I had previously bestowed upon my lover. The strange woman, I could not see her face, took both of Alyse's heaving breasts in her hands and skillfully massaged the erect nipples between her fingers. Alyse had thrown back her head in abandon, and as I watched, she spread her long lovely legs even further apart. I could almost see her now white clitoris quivering under the ministrations of the anonymous girl, who had dropped to her knees in front of Alyse. Spreading the lips of her sex far apart, the woman was engaged in sucking and tickling Alyse's love button-Alyse meanwhile was trying desperately to remain on her feet while her legs shivered as thrill after thrill engulfed her lust-ridden body. I was shocked and hurt, but I could well understand the pleasure the strange woman was giving to my love.
Just as I had thought the climax was upon Alyse, a tall naked man approached the groaning girl from behind, clutching in one hand the largest dildo I had ever seen. I wanted to run out in the middle of the room and scream for them to stop their orgiastic ritual-to leave my woman alone-but I dared not show myself for fear of my life. They were all in a trance and there was no predicting what they would do if they found a spy in their midst.
I suffered for her shame as the tall man spread her vulva with one hand and inserted the hideous dildo with the other. Somehow Alyse was able to take the full length and width of the pseudo-penis between her legs, and in fact seemed to enjoy the feeling of being stretched to what surely must be her utmost capacity. The woman in front of her had meanwhile continued her sucking and now took hold of the dildo with one hand, moving it in and out with great speed. I couldn't bear to think of what might happen next!
I was not to wonder long. As Alyse moaned under the caresses being given to her clitoris and vagina, the man spread the cheeks of her backside apart and slowly began to insert his large, throbbing rod into her delicate anal passage. Inch by inch, it disappeared until Alyse's cheeks were flush against his stomach, his great weapon buried to the hilt.
Her face was a study of devil passion and infinite lust-she was as beautiful to behold as a deadly snake-and as evil. Moving now in quicker and quicker jerks, her entire body was given over to sex and I knew it would not be long before she would experience a multiple orgasm. I was right. Shrieking out her depraved joy, she clawed at the air as the man behind her ejaculated into her tight ass at the same instant she herself let loose a flood of liquid release. I could see the sweet white juices run down the insides of her tender thighs until the woman, still kneeling before her, began to clean Alyse with her tongue. I prayed to God-if there was such a deity-to let the orgy end here.
The throbbing beat of a drum brought my attention back to the altar on my left which had previously been bare. Now, however, the naked body of a man was stretched out upon this pagan altar, his extraordinary tool enlarged and rigid as it pointed toward the ceiling. One of the four young girls who had been kneeling around the altar the last time I looked at them was playing an age-old rhythm on the drum, while the remaining three each administered a different caress to the offering on the altar.
I could well imagine the man's joy as one extremely attractive blonde leaned over his prostrate form and brushed the tips of her nipples back and forth across his chest. Another, this one brunette, was engaged in moving her pretty mouth up and down on his glistening rod, her fingertips meanwhile gently caressing the sac that rested beneath his penis. The third attendant, a redhead, stood at the end of the altar and used her mouth and tongue on his anus, causing him to quiver and roll from side to side.
The high priestess had apparently ordered this special treatment for the man on the altar and now she had obviously had enough of voyeurism. Rising on her dais, she clasped her breasts in both hands and rubbed them vigorously, pumping her lanky hips in an obscene motion. Thus aroused, she stepped down from her throne and approached the altar. All sounds had now stopped-the dancers who circled the fire had ceased their cavorting and remained motionless-Alyse had joined their ranks and now stood between the mysterious woman and man who had previously invaded her body.
In the quiet thus imposed, I could now hear the high priestess when she spoke. Standing before the altar, she looked at the three maidens who surrounded it and inquired in a hoarse voice, "Have you made him sufficiently ready for me?"
Nodding their heads in the affirmative, the three girls withdrew from their post and faded into the shadows. The fourth continued to keep time with her drum, though softly now.
"Eko Eko Gananas, Eko Eko Azarak! Devil worshippers! We are here to pay tribute to the God of the Underground, Satan himself. He has entered the body of the person you now see on the altar and has given us the opportunity to pay tribute to Him in a fitting manner. Four of the strongest men will now approach the altar and aid me as I lead you in the ritual of the Black Mass." The high priestess had turned to face the dancers, now she presented her rear to them and stood with her legs wide apart, waiting for the four volunteers to come to her side.
In a moment, four tall and extremely well built young men flanked her, two on a side. She whispered something I could not hear because of my distance from the altar and they immediately lifted her off the ground and carried her held high in the air to the altar. Placing her on it, they helped spread her legs on either side of the aroused Devil Incarnate and then stood aside as she slowly began to sink down upon the throbbing penis between her thighs.
I must admit that by this time my own manhood was pushing against the cloth of my pants in a vain effort to escape from its hiding place. The scene revolted me, turned my stomach-yet it also excited me in a depraved and erotic way that I couldn't understand. There was no time for self-examination, however, for the ritual had progressed and now the high priestess was fully impaled on the altar, her arms widespread. She was supported on each side by her four masculine attendants as she began to rotate her hips with precise muscular control. Moving with an incredible speed, the high priestess flung back her head and howled her ecstasy to the ceiling, her cries of animalistic joy reverberating off the walls of the cave with an eerie echo. Apparently she had reached an earth shattering climax atop the virile young stud, for she fell backwards and would have fainted had it not been for her strong supporters' powerful grasp on her arms. Dizzily, she ordered them to lift her from her sexual perch which they did immediately.
The air of excitement and anticipation which filled the room had risen during the high priestess' performance, and as I looked at the fire illuminated faces I could see an almost blood thirsty gleam in each and every eye. The members of this forbidden cult were not playing at the ritual for kicks-they actually believed they could raise the Devil and summon him forth!
"Bring forth the newest member of our cult so that she may undergo her initiation rites." The high priestess commanded in a powerful voice. An icy hand gripped my heart for I knew it could be no other than Alyse of whom she spoke.
I was right in my assumption. Alyse, still in a deep trance, was thrust forward by the hands of those surrounding her. She blinked and tried to focus on the altar before her, but all she managed to do was stumble blindly toward the high priestess.
"Alyse Woodwin, do you swear to the Devil to worship only He, to obey His command, and to keep your membership in this Cult forever a secret on the pain of instant death?" Alyse, hypnotized by the fevered black eyes of the high priestess, could only stand in front of the altar and nod dumbly in reply.
"Speak out!" The high priestess raised her voice. "Do you so pledge, Alyse Woodwin?"
"Yes, I ... yes." So it was done, she had spoken and willingly offered up her magnificent body to the worship of evil. It was all I could do not to cry-I knew deep in my heart that Alyse was now entirely lost to my kind of love. Alas, I could not give her up, even knowing the degree of her perversion.
"Make her ready to receive the sperm of Satan," the high priestess cried out. The four men who had aided her now stepped out of the shadows and approached the trembling Alyse. Each took his post: one knelt between her legs and began to skillfully manipulate her swollen clitoris with his hand; one had brought with him the enormous dildo previously used on her and with it he began to penetrate her vagina. The third man again penetrated her from the rear, all the while holding her luscious ripe breasts in his hands while squeezing the reddened nipples till I thought she would surely faint. And as if that were not enough attention to stimulate her to the highest fever, the forth member of the tableau introduced his rigid tool into her mouth.
I had hoped that at this intimacy Alyse would somehow come to her senses and revolt at the indignities that were being foisted upon her sensual body ... but no, she opened her mouth to the widest degree and accepted the stranger's penis willingly, sucking on it as if her very life depended on bringing forth a climax in her mouth. She was sick! She was also lovely as her body moved in an erotic dance of lust that had me rubbing myself against the cave wall to ease my own throbbing member. Her cheeks puffed in and out as the rigid member she was sucking entered and withdrew from her mouth. She was made for this, I thought, and who can deny such a heritage?
All five were now moving in an increasing tempo and I felt sure that they would climax simultaneously if given another moment. The high priestess apparently sensed this also, for she abruptly ordered the men to withdraw from Alyse and carry her to the altar .
This they did, holding the squirming girl above their heads as she cried out again and again for release from her sexual need. She was like some strange animal, completely and totally carried away with her body's craving for a male j organ to bring forth her orgasm. I am sure she had no conscious thought in her head at that moment-only a desperate need to impale herself on the nearest and largest penis.
The four men had placed her atop the altar so that she was straddling the man who supposedly represented the Devil. With her eyes tightly shut, she allowed her attendants to spread the lips of her vulva apart and introduce the head of the Devil's purplish cock into her vagina.
As soon as the first contact was made, she gave out an awful cry and sank down upon the length of the extraordinary rod until it disappeared completely from view.
I wondered how the rest of the cult was taking this sensational show and was not surprised to see each and every man and woman in the room busily engaged in masturbating themselves, their eyes meanwhile never leaving the altar for a moment. It was a fantastic sight, far more compelling and erotic than any orgy Jim had ever thrown. For a moment I almost wished he was here with me for I knew how much his depraved mind would relish the scene.
My eyes returned to the altar just in time to see Alyse begin her own frantic movement.
Up and down, around and around, her hips seemed almost to move of their own accord. Her face was twisted in an agony of supreme delight, each small climax heralding the approach of one that would surmount all others that had ever gone before it.
Her hands flew to the lips of her femininity and she parted them with her left hand, while rubbing her clitoris furiously with the right. I knew Alyse had fantastic muscles but I had never dreamed she could move atop a penis the way she was moving now-faster and faster she humped, her swollen breasts jiggling crazily in the firelight. I cannot deny that my own hand was also engaged in doing sweet battle with my tool, a battle I hoped to soon lose! It was as if every person in the cave was living his own orgasm through Alyse's, holding his breath until she had hit the big one!
And then it came! In a blinding second that seemed to hang suspended, Alyse tightened every muscle and nerve in her body, remaining rigidly in place atop the altar as visions of ecstasy washed across her face. I could almost hear the love juices gush forth from between her thighs as spasm after spasm racked her beautiful body. It was fantastic!
I looked around and sure enough the rest of the audience had also reached their own personal climaxes at the same time. The floor of the cave was slippery with semen, as was the wall I stood opposite, from my own emission!
It was then that Alyse screamed out in mortal fear. Her head had slumped forward onto the Devil's chest and for the first time she had opened her eyes. I couldn't understand what had frightened her so, but resolved to find out if it took me a lifetime.
The high priestess ordered Alyse removed from the altar and the four young men rushed to do her bidding. Still sobbing uncontrollably, she was led to a dark corner of the room and allowed to sink down upon the floor, her head buried in her hands. It was then that I recognized the young girl who had first aroused her that night-she approached Alyse now to comfort her-and I saw that it was indeed Phoebe!
So, the girl had not broken with Alyse as I had been told. In fact, Alyse was obviously under some sort of a spell when it came to Phoebe and it was she who had led Alyse into the sacrilegious rites of the Devil Worshippers. She now bent over Alyse and held the poor girl's head in her hands, whispering quickly in her ear. Whatever the words, they seemed to have a soothing effect on Alyse and presently she stopped crying, although she still retained the look of fear I had first seen on her face when she looked into the Devil's eyes.
The main show was over and the rest of the group took the opportunity to amuse themselves. Everywhere I looked I saw twosomes, threesomes, foursomes, singles-the room was a rampage of sexuality gone wild. The high priestess had again coupled with the man who was playing the role of the Devil-her four attendants, the females, had joined with the four male attendants and were busy with every variation on the sex act you can imagine. The reddish glow cast by the still burning bonfire threw the room into a bloody hue, and I must say that the effect was one of the supernatural. I decided it was high time I found my way out of this sinful place, and hoped secretly that I could. Carefully, I felt my way along the pitch-black corridor I had descended and after about forty minutes of holding my breath, I once again saw the star-studded skies of Rome. I thanked God!
As I lay in bed waiting for Alyse to arrive back home I tried to think about what I had witnessed. Naturally, I did not really believe that the Devil was present at the ritual but I did realize that those who took part in the pagan religion wanted to believe! What motive could Alyse have for joining such a group? She was well-bred, extremely intelligent, her allure for the opposite sex as well as her own had been attested to time and time again. Why, then, did she need the secret of the Black Mass to fortify herself? What strange power did Phoebe hold over her?
I kept thinking about how kind and gentle and loving she had been during the last few weeks-how she had told me over and over of her love for me, a love which would never die. How could she do this to me? Torn apart by her deceit, I was determined to have an answer at any cost the moment she arrived home from her orgy!
It was almost dawn when I heard her soft footsteps on the stairs leading to the second floor of my house. Her bedroom, the guest room, was several doors away from mine and I decided to give her enough time to disrobe and climb into bed before approaching her.
My nerves were on edge as the minutes crept slowly by. Suddenly I couldn't wait any longer and sprang from my bed, my hands clenched at my sides. I was quite ready to kill her with my bare hands if she offered any resistance to my questioning. Perhaps I would kill her anyway, after she had given me the answers I sought!
Quietly, I approached the door to the guest room and opened it softly so as not to let her know of my presence. The sight that met my eyes almost made me cry out in surprise. Alyse, after the fucking she had gotten that night at the catacombs, was lying in bed, her legs spread wide apart and pointing to the ceiling. Her left hand held the lips of her vagina wide apart, as she had done while atop of the Devil earlier that evening, while her right hand rooted about in her wet cavity, seeking to further stimulate herself. I was shocked-was she completely insatiable? Or was she, indeed, driven by a spirit that was stronger than any mortal?
As I continued to stare at her she reached under the sheets of her bed and removed the dildo I had seen Phoebe use on her earlier. So, she had taken it along as a souvenir! I would happily have showed it down her delicate throat at this moment, had I the chance!
Transfixed, I watched as she, her head buried deep in the pillow and turned to the side away from the door, slowly began to insert the artificial penis into her cunt. Low, sensuous moans escaped from between her clenched lips as her hand moved faster and faster, in and out, in and out. She would soon reach still another climax at her own hand. I was furious, it was an insult to my masculinity. That she would seek to find pleasure at her own hands instead of climbing into my bed made me see red and, before I could help myself, I rushed across to the bed and yanked the dildo out of her grasp.
"Gregorio!" She screamed, a look of pure terror coming into her eyes. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough, you slut! And long before that, too. Did you really think me fool enough to believe your excuse about a headache-you who could screw the entire town on your deathbed!"
I spat the words at her, delighted in her obvious discomfort.
"What do you mean? Tell me, quickly!" She had now sat up in the bed and was vainly trying to cover her nudity with the sheets. However, I had sat on the edge of the bed and my hip made it impossible for her to pull the sheet up to her waist.
"Did you enjoy the big cock you rode tonight more than mine?" I smiled, a look of cunning on my face. "Or did you enjoy Phoebe's experienced tongue more? Or better yet, do you really desire the dildo you have instead of a human being? Tell me, Alyse, which do you prefer. Tell me and I will make sure you get what you want!"
Her look of fear had now changed to one of abject despair and it warmed my heart to see she could still be embarrassed when confronted with her odious deeds. My love for this woman was buried deep inside my icy heart at the moment and I wanted nothing more than to see her disgraced and humiliated beyond endurance ... I wanted her to suffer as I had suffered when I saw her body given up voluntarily to strangers!
Tears ran silently down her face as she looked at me with a beseeching plea for forgiveness in her eyes. "Please, Gregorio ... I cannot bear the suspense any longer. Tell me, I beg of you, what else did you see?"
"Isn't that enough!" I was quite beside myself with rage now. Reaching out quickly, before she knew what I was about, I grabbed her by the arm and rolled her over on the bed. "Don't you think that my watching your delightful orgy was enough. Or did something even more horrible happen after I took my leave? Is that it? Speak you bitch"
Sobbing hysterically now, Alyse could not, or would not, answer me. Maddened by her reluctance to give me the respect of an answer, I reached for the hard leather dildo and using it as a strap or whip, brought it down on her quivering buttocks with all the force I had in my body. Crack! A welt began to rise immediately where the dildo had marked her tender skin. Crack! Crack! Crack! With each terrible blow I felt my own excitement rising. Her beautiful backside tossed from side to side, vainly trying to escape the pain I was inflicting on her. Oh, how I loved it!
No reason was left to me as I released her arms and quickly stood up. I threw off my nightshirt and fell upon her, pushing my throbbing cock into her ass in a fit of blinding anger. I knew it must have hurt her, but she no longer dared to cry out for fear I might-kill her. Forcing her cheeks apart, I kneeled between her velvety thighs and pounded into her narrow orifice with all the fury I possessed, silently vowing to give her not a moment's pleasure. Just as I felt my orgasm approach the end, Alyse began to squirm beneath my onslaught, tiny moans of pleasure escaping her throat! No! That was one thing I would deny her this night. Relaxing my muscles completely, I allowed the hot jet of liquid to gush into her convulsing backside, drenching her with the remnants of my desire.
"Gregorio," she urgently pleaded, "Please finish me too. Oh, please my love, do not leave me like this!"
"Ha! So you beg me, do you? And do you really think I would touch you now." I taunted her. "I've taken what I wanted from your body, as did the others, and now it no longer has any appeal for me. In fact," I continued, pushing her away from me, "Cover it up for I don't want to see your nakedness another minute!"
Alyse rolled over, her eyes bright with unsated lust, her mouth moist with her own saliva. "Then allow me, I beg of you, to finish myself. Give me the dildo, Gregorio. I know how to use it."
"Better than I?" I asked, a new thought taking hold of me. "No, I shall do the honors." Spreading her legs apart, I held them with my own strong legs so that she could not close them if she wanted to. Then, taking the dildo in one hand, I slipped it into her liquidy vagina and began to move it tantalizingly about, poking at all the secret places I knew so well.
"Ah, Gregorio. Yes, my darling. Oh, there, just there! Oooo, the pleasure is so great I think I shall die!" Yes she was enjoying it all right, and it was time to teach her a lesson. Abruptly, I shoved the dildo into her belly with all the force I could muster, laughing at the look of pain that swept across her lust-filled face.
"Ouch!" She tried to pull away from the dildo but I had her pinioned to the spot. "No, Gregorio. Please, no more. I promise I shall never go back to the catacombs!"
I withdrew the instrument of her previous pleasure and again shoved it deep inside her with no mercy. "But Alyse, I want you to have a climax, dear heart. It is for your pleasure that I do this!"
Screaming loudly enough to wake the neighbors now, she kept looking at me as if she couldn't believe I would do such a thing to her. I, the poor fool who had fallen under her spell, the one man she could cheat on, lie to and still claim to love!
Suddenly, I felt completely drained and sick to my stomach. Tossing the dildo away, I got up off the bed and made to leave the room. I could no longer stand the sight of her ravaged beauty. I silently contemplated the joy of suicide, the final release from the squirming devil on the bed. It was the only way out.
"Oh, God Don't leave me, Gregorio!" Blindly, she reached out to grab at my leg, seeking to keep me with her.
"You dare to utter the name of God after what you've done tonight?" I shouted at her, my anger rekindled at her blasphemy. "What of your pledge to the Devil, Alyse? Don't you intend to keep it-or are you using the cult for your own sexual pleasure?" I towered over her, my eyes burning into hers. "Well, can you answer me?"
"Yes," she cried, "But you will not understand."
"Try me." I said shortly. "Tell me why you looked so afraid when you saw the identity of the Devil tonight?"
"No," she pleaded. "Don't ask me that, Gregorio. Would that I had never seen his face again, my love. You must believe me!"
"What do you mean by again?" No my curiosity was fully aroused. I had to know who the man was who played Satan so well. "Come on," I threatened her. "It's your last chance. If you do not reveal his name to me, I shall blow my brains out and the guilt of my death shall rest on your head!"
Her face became drawn in fear again. "His name is-Mario Aiello, God forgive me!"
CHAPTER NINE
My pride revolted! The name of Mario Aiello had indeed reopened all the old wounds, and the chains of intense jealousy, already so heavy, tightened more and more. She had never before so demeaned herself in my presence as on this day. So it was Aiello who was behind the mystery of her past, and for all I knew, behind the plans for her future!
I had to know the truth! The very mention of his name threw me into a rage which I found impossible to conceal. I knew that if Alyse did not answer all the questions that were buzzing around in my head I would fall upon her in a blind fury and kill her on the spot.
Returning to her side, I again sat upon the bed. Looking deeply into her eyes, I commanded her to tell me the truth about herself and Mario, no matter how awful it might seem to her. In truth, the worst confession would be better than not knowing who my adversary was and what hold he had upon Alyse.
With great trepidation, she took hold of my hand and began to relate the following story: Only a few weeks after her shattering experience with her step-father, Alyse found herself on a boat sailing for the French seaport at LeHavre. On the condition that she would not file papers for a divorce, Alyse's mother forced Oscar Woodwin to finance the journey and provide her daughter with a monthly income to live comfortably and study in Europe for four years.
On her own and out of the country for the first time, Alyse was not only ill-at-ease in the presence of men, but actually terrified if she found herself alone in the company of a single man. After what she had experienced, she distrusted all men. It was while at sea, that she devised the idea of wearing men's clothes and passing herself off as a boy when she was in the presence of strangers. This she concluded would insure her against the danger of being assaulted and give her the ease of freedom to travel alone-or so she thought at the time.
When the ship docked at Le Havre, the Alyse Woodwin that alighted was an altogether different person from the demure young lady who boarded in New York. For one thing, her beautiful long hair was gone. She had cut off her golden tresses and fashioned her head in a short cut like a young man. She was able to conceal this from the other passengers by wearing a fancy bonnet when. she landed in France, but once she was alone on French soil, she made several well planned purchases and the metamorphosis was complete before she boarded the train for Paris. It was a handsome sixteen or seventeen year old boy who boarded that train, and if he was slightly effeminate in his mannerisms, one assumed he was still very young for his height.
Alyse, still naive about many things, did not, however, take into account the many complications she would run into with such a disguise. For one thing, she did not realize that many European men were active pederasts and sodomists, who cultivated an equal taste for the male orifice as well as for the female. She had not been conditioned to know or understand the bisexual fads of many sophisticated Europeans, who found buttockry or anal intercourse a delightful change from the standard practices of heterosexual relations, the idea being that since a male depends upon the friction against his penis for the desired pleasure, it is sometimes wildly exciting to force the penis into as small and tight an orifice as possible and then thrust back and forth unmercifully until the orgasm has been reached.
During her journey by rail to Paris, Alyse found it necessary to relieve herself and she panicked when it occurred to her that she would not be allowed to enter the ladies retiring compartment and would have to avail herself of the gentlemen's smoker. This at first she could not bring herself to do. She tried to dismiss the matter from her thoughts, but the vibrations of the train only made her need more urgent. At one point she stiffened the muscles in her legs and held her breath, fearing that she was going to wet the light grey trousers she was wearing. She started to twitch in her seat, breaking out in beads of perspiration, until the older woman seated next to her began to thing her nervousness was due to something quite different and became incensed. A visit to the gentlemen's smoker was forced upon her by nature's necessity.
She entered the smoker with trepidation, but discovered that it was uninhabited. Only a heavy cloud of cigar smoke circled the room. Her eyes surveyed the room in search of the water closet. Her need was too desperate for her to consider the possibility that it may have been occupied. She ran to the door and threw it open, only to find herself facing what she thought to be one of the most handsome men she had ever laid eyes upon. Not only was she thrown off guard by his attractiveness, but he was standing before the urinal bowl with his penis lodged between his fingers.
"Oh, dear," she gasped. "Excuse me."
She started to slam the door, but the back of his heel kicked it open again, and he stood there facing her lewdly exposed as he shook the final drippings from his penis.
"I am drained," he announced. "You may have the pisser, my boy. He stepped out of the small commode shaking his large limp weapon. "Hey, you must be the boy all the ladies have been talking about."
"Oh?" Alyse exclaimed, her eyes riveted to his penis, secretly marveling at this unexpected exhibition-the beauty, the shape and size of it, the smooth thick layer of velvet skin covering the pear-shaped head, leaving only a bulging purple tip exposed. His long thick fingers continued fondling it casually, pulling back the foreskin, squeezing it into expanding, as he stood before her in a manly stance eyeing her peculiarly.
"They said you were a most beautiful young man. And you certainly are." He was now aware that she was staring at his growing weapon. "What are you looking at, young fellow? You like what you see there?" He had a half-knowing smile upon his lips that said he was cock-sure of himself.
Alyse backed up, feeling humiliated and intimidated. "I ... I'm sorry," she stammered before bolting into the commode, slamming the door behind her. The door had no sooner been closed before it flew open and the handsome young man stood poised in the doorway.
"Why so shy?" he smiled.
"If you do not object," she retorted, "I like privacy." Pushing him out of the door frame, she closed the door again and made sure it was locked this time. She was so unnerved by the incident, she no longer felt an urgent need to relieve herself. Under her breath she cursed her perplexing situation.
When she came out of the commode he was waiting to engage her in further conversation. Being from New York City he said he recognized a fellow American and went on to introduce himself as Mario Aiello. She was not sure that he did not see through her impersonation and recognize her as a girl. But he said nothing about it, and she soon found herself disarmed by his friendliness and his charm. He talked a great deal about himself and offered to advise her about Paris. He said he had been living in Paris for three years to study painting and that he was sponsored by Percival Chalfont of London.
"It's a bore having to be beholden to somebody like Chalfont," he said, "but I suppose I should be grateful for his financial support. If you plan on staying in Paris for any length of time-if you are going there to study and you want to live well, you ought to get yourself a benefactor. A good looking young boy like you should have no trouble at all finding somebody to keep you." When Alyse naively asked what she would have to do in order to get a benefactor, Mario burst into laughter. "You will have to learn not to be so shy; and be prepared to take off your trousers, or get down on your knees whenever you are told to do so."
"Why would I be asked to get down on my knees?"
"You are younger and more naive than I thought, but you will have to learn and I might as well be the one to teach you."
"Teach me to do what?"
"To take cock."
"I beg your pardon."
"In Europe men are not considered men until they have taken cock as well as given it."
At first Alyse actually thought he was referring to roosters. She had never heard the male organ referred to as a cock before. The term was new to her. But once she fully understood what he was talking about, she enjoyed hiding behind her masquerade as a boy and listening to Mario divulge personal matters that one man would only confide to another when there were no women around to overhear. She had wondered for a long time what men discussed when they were alone, and now she was getting an education. She was amazed to learn that men sometimes had relations with other men. Her mother had never mentioned that detail, and the way Mario explained it as a common practice, Alyse assumed it was nothing that she was entitled to be shocked about. She had to casually accept many of the things he said, if she was to play her role successfully. As long as he accepted her as a boy, she felt relaxed in his company. He spoke to her on his terms without solicitation, without guarding his words, without the nervous formality that exists between a man and a woman when they first meet. The truth of the matter being that Alyse was immediately attracted to his winning charming ways, their relationship became surprisingly intimate in a short period of time.
"Do you still want to know what is expected of young boys in Paris?"
Alyse nodded, her eyes blurring. "Yes, I do," she admitted. Her legs began to tense and her stomach contracted as the thought grew more provoking. She was fascinated by the mysteries of sex, by all variations and degrees of it. Forced intercourse was the only thing she feared and appeared loathsome to her. She knew she had to relax in the company of men, and because under the circumstances she felt comfortable in Mario's presence, she agreed to go to his private compartment.
"You've got to do what I tell you, my boy," Mario was saying as he disrobed. "Understand?" His smile tightened and the handsome face became a cold mask.
As his nakedness became more and more revealed to her, her knees began to buckle and she sank into the seat by the window, her eyes drinking in the impressive muscular contours of his physique. Men were fascinating, exciting animals.
He stood before her now stark naked, his legs spread apart, his hands manipulating his sensuous member, making it grow rigid and deliciously tempting. "Well, he said, "I am ready."
Alyse choked back a sob, her breasts aching underneath the shirt and suit coat, her head throbbing with doubts and fears. Any moment she expected Mario to lunge at her and start ripping off her clothes, forcing her into another nightmare situation like before. She held her breath, afraid to utter a sound, and waited, not knowing what to expect in the next second. Mario, however, made no sudden move toward her, nor did he reach out to lay a hand upon her, and he was near enough to do so. He just stood in the center of the compact little compartment fondling his penis and testicles until the trunk of his penis was erect and pointed in her direction. It seemed to beckon to her with throbbing movements.
"What do I have to do now?" she asked, torn between an inner fear and a lusty hunger for excitement.
"My boy, come on," he sighed impatiently. "Take it in your mouth, suck on it, savour the sweet taste."
"I do not have to get undressed?" she questioned.
"Not if you don't wish to. It is not necessary."
This made all the difference to her. She could thrill to the physical contact with a man without being manhandled or violated. It intrigued her. And the more she studied the contours of his body, especially the contours of his penis, the more her mouth watered to devour it. She slid off the edge of the seat, down to the floor on her knees and sandwiched herself between his strong, muscular naked thighs.
"That's more like it, young fellow. You are on your way. Now just grab it at the base, squeeze just a little bit to keep the shaft stiff and stretched, and let your lips slid over the head." The dark-haired lover smiled down at her and his eyes began to glisten as he braced himself. He took hold of her blonde short cropped hair and yanked her head back. This forced her mouth wide open and he was able to thrust his member deep into the cathedral of her mouth.
"Oh," she gasped, feeling utterly helpless, experiencing for the first time in her young life the sensation of hard quivering flesh filling the cavities of her mouth, pressing down her throat. He tightened his hold on the short strands of hair so that he could direct her head to accommodate his thrusting penis. The pain was excruciating; the wild sensation of being gagged was unbearable. She blinked and pulled back, an automatic, shocked reaction, but the strong pressure of his hand forced her face closer to his crotch. Everything blurred and she moaned brokenly, knowing now that she had no choice but to obey the heated command of his urging hands. She had led him on, misrepresented her own sex, and now she could not refuse to take this step into an erotic, man to man act. As long as her own body did not have to submit to male punishment, she was satisfied to go along with it, considering it part of a sexual adventure that was important to her education.
She shuddered, a feverish excitement taking hold of her as she crawled in closer until she had taken all of his "cock" and her nose was buried in the thatch of pubic hairs. Blood pounded at her brain and her body began to pulse with a strange arresting intensity. She felt his hands guiding her head and could her his ragged breathing as she surrendered to the thrusting assault of his penis that now extended half way down her throat, choking off her breathing.
Mario's groans were deep-throated and coarsely sensual.
Alyse sobbed amid her new abandonment. The small compartment whirled frantically as she labored to "take cock." He had said no man is really a man until he can take cock. She was being a man now and this moment did not infringe upon her femininity or her stature as a woman. The floor beneath her trousered knees seemed to tilt from side to side. Any moment she felt that her head would be choked off, as she forged lower and lower into a sea of lust.
Time passed. She was not sure how long ... minutes ... hours punctuated by moans, savage whispers, violent straining ... and then finally a wild frenzied delirium. The cock exploded, flooding her throat with sperm, choking off air while his body bucked and reared like a wild colt.
Alyse slumped to the floor panting, her chest heaving, her lungs gasping for fresh air. Her body felt tingling and sensationalized by the erotic, savage intimacy, and she marveled at how this could be when her own body had never been touched. She concluded there was a lot more to sexual relations than the little information she had been afforded by her mother. No longer afraid of a sexual contact, Alyse was now intrigued to learn as much as she could. Sex could be a pleasant, exciting encounter if the partner was considerate and charming like Mario Aiello. More than anything at that moment she wanted to continue to be his pupil. There was much to be learned from him.
She looked up at Mario, who sat slumped on the seat, his naked legs sprawled out. He was a handsome sight to behold. She wondered how he could be so composed after such a physically exhausting act. She wet her bruised lips and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eye. Her cheeks felt warm and flushed.
"That was great," he commented. "How a-bout letting me do you now?"
Alyse immediately experienced a twinge of uncertainty, a twinge of uneasiness. "No thank you," she whispered.
Mario chuckled. " Still shy?"
"No, but it would not be the same with me," she tried to explain, feeling a nervousness churning inside her stomach. "I mean I am not developed like you."
"What does that matter? I still like you. You are not only very handsome, you are small. That excites me."
"I excite you?"
Mario nodded. "I would prefer a young boy like you to a woman any day in the year. And if I saw much more of you, you would become a real habit with me. Want to consider it?"
"Consider what?" she asked somewhat bewildered and confused.
"Becoming my boy, living with me. We would make a handsome team ... an exciting attraction on the Boulevard Saint-Germain."
"You mean we would be like lovers?" He nodded. "But have you forgotten that I am l boy?"
"I have not forgotten."
"But I'm not built like you," she emphasized. Mario laughed. "You are still young. Your cock will grow larger and develop. But your cock is not what I would crave, my fine, handsome young friend."
"What then?"
"Do you know the meaning of the word sodomy?"
"No!"
"Let me explain it to you in this manner," he suggested and then began to recite a poem. "A round peg into a square hole was never meant to fit. Why then is a long round penis meant for a woman's slit? Not altogether so if there is a tight round anus hole to go with the penis kit."
"What is that from?"
"Arabian poetry. Do you understand what it means?"
I think so! It means you would like to penetrate my buttocks."
"Exactly. Have you ever tried it?"
"No!"
"It would drive you out of your mind. There is no sensation in the world to equal it. If I could take you that way, I would be your slave for life."
"I wasn't in the market for a slave today." He arched his back and leaned forward until his lips were inches away from her. "What a magnificent boy you are. I would kick out Percival Chalfont for somebody like you."
"Is he your boy now?"
Mario smiled. "He's much older than I. I am supposed to be his boy, but it is only for the money. It is not the same as it would be with us."
"Do you not like girls at all?"
"Of course. I love the companionship of women, and once in a while I see one I must have. But I could search the world over and never find a girl with your innocent, refreshing looks."
"How do I look?"
"It's a handsome boyish look ... big eyes, a thick lower lip, chiseled features, light yellow hair hanging over your forehead and ears, and all mounted on a small frame." Gently he pressed his lips to hers and she felt the fiery sting of his tongue darting in and out of her mouth. Love intermingled with passion began to envelope her. It was so sudden and overwhelming. Her heart began to pound frantically and her mind started spinning, swimming with thought. What an unusual, unprecedented encounter this had become. Upon sight she had been attracted and drawn to this man with whom she felt completely at ease. And he, without the allurement of her woman's body, and long hair, had fallen in love with her. Having been raised to believe that most relationships between men and women were sinful, she reasoned that a love between two men must be of the purest kind. Now she wondered if it would make a difference in how he felt knowing she was a woman. She had to find out. Suddenly she became aware of the fact that she was unconsciously fondling and caressing his testicles affectionately, and as a result his shaft had become erect again.
Her thoughts, coupled with the sight of his penis, stirred her desires into flames and made her want with great greediness a second encounter with him.
"I'm not a boy," she blurted out.
"What?"
"I'm not a boy. I am only disguised as one. I think I would enjoy doing anything with you, but I must be truthful."
"you are a girl?" He opened the jacket of her suit and pressed his hands against her shirt, feeling for her breasts. "You are!" He said when he touched the full rounded flesh. "No doubt a-bout that." He studied her for a moment, trying to comprehend.
Alyse explained everything as best she could, blaming her fears for her deception, and thanking him for helping her to get over some of those fears. He looked like he was going to be annoyed but his expression quickly changed to a warm smile.
"You are one in a million," he sighed "What luck, finding a little treasure like you."
She flung her arms around his neck and would have agreed-to do anything for him at that moment she was so happy. He bade her to remove her clothes and lie down with him, which she did once the lights were dimmed. She was eager and frightened at the same time. She eased her lithe body down upon the berth he had just pulled out from the wall, rolling over on her velvety textured stomach, exposing her naked buttocks, then glancing pleadingly at Mario over her shoulder, her eyes always telegraphed her thoughts. She was not old enough or clever enough to conceal her innermost emotions.
Mario leaned over her on the berth, his erect member swinging brazenly as he positioned his legs on each side of her hips until he was straddling her like a bareback rider. Playfully he beat her like a horse with his own built in crop, the third arm he was born with. Then he bent over and grabbed the fleshy areas of her backsides.
"Mmm," he murmured. "A nice plump, firm rear, let me tell you. Easy to spread."
Alyse groaned seductively, burying her face in her arms. The first stab he gave her with his penis jolted the devil out of her. She tried to relax, but Mario spread apart her cheeks with his fingers and a moment later a lance of pain ripped through her body, and she experienced the sensation of being pierced in the anal canal. She choked up and her hands flew out from under her and her nails dug into the hard mattress on the berth. She pleaded with him to stop and withdraw and when he started to respect her wishes she told him it was all right and begged him to keep going.
For more than fifteen minutes he battered away at her buttocks like an angry ram, slamming his body against her hot, newly baptized flesh. Her body quickly became drenched in perspiration, but he was relieving her tensions and frustrations, bringing a blessed release to sexual urges that had probably tormented her subconsciously for several years.
At one point Mario became so engulfed with orgastic ecstasies that he slammed against her with such force, burying his weapon so deeply inside of her, Alyse screamed out in agony. He tilted his head to one side and observed that her large breasts were crushed and flattened under his hammering weight. By the time fulfillment was achieved by Mario, Alyse was limp and expended, in a state bordering on unconsciousness. She shared in his twitching spasm, and felt his explosive discharge fill her stomach; then he collapsed over her, so exhausted that for awhile he could not force his body to break their contact.
Eventually Alyse glanced at him over her shoulder. His breathing was hoarse and heavy, while his fingers clutched desperately to her frail arms. "Please," she said softly, "you are so heavy."
He obliged with an apology by rolling off of her and sprawling out on his back beside her. In the dim kerosene light, their bodies glistened with perspiration. Alyse ran her fingers affectionately over his smooth chest and stomach and came to rest on his genitals.
"Do you still want me to be your boy?" she asked.
"More than that, my lovely one," he replied. "You are the greatest she-boy I have ever known."
CHAPTER TEN
Alyse entered Paris with Mario, who took her lovingly and protectively under his wing. She moved in with him, sharing his studio-quarters on the Rue de Vaugirard on the Left Bank. It was Mario's desire that she remain disguised as a boy. He seemed to prefer her that way and she was introduced throughout the quarter as Allan Woodwin. Alyse thoroughly enjoyed the wicked deception. She was amused when young ladies flirted with her; and quickly adjusted to overhearing young male artists speak openly in front of her about "cock-sucking" and "buggering," discussing the limitations of women as good "buggers." As Allan Woodwin, she was known as Mario's boy. The masquerade gave her a wonderful chance to be open and uninhibited about sex, which quelled all her fears. Paris itself afforded her a freedom she had never dreamed possible. Her first month in Paris was one of the happiest fun-filled periods in her life. She found herself, even while masquerading as a boy, and gained confidence in her friendly relationships with others.
But it was mainly Mario who gave her the greatest happiness. Each day she grew to love him more and more.
Only one man marred their life and existence. Percival Chalfont! Once a month he would visit Paris to be with Mario and on such occasions Alyse had to step into the background of Mario's life.
Here again was another first in Alyse's young life. It was her first taste of jealousy, and after two or three such visits from Perceval Chalfont, she had it out with Mario.
"Why not tell him you do not wish to see him any more?" she suggested.
"And what would we live on, my lovely. It is his money that affords us our good times."
"I am sick of moving out each time he comes to Paris. This time I refuse to go to a hotel. I am staying here," she announced flatly.
"But I can't explain somebody like you to Chalfont. He will cut me off," Mario whined.
"Then you get a job-or sell one of your paintings."
"Be reasonable my lovely," Mario sighed. "If you stay here with us he is going to find out you are a girl. Then what can I say to him?"
Alyse was angry and she found all the words of the gutter that she had picked up from Mario's friends suitable in this instance. "Tell Percy he can fuck himself, and present him with a dildo he can poke up his hole," she said in a husky tone. "He is not getting an ounce more of your sperm. It belongs in me, not him."
Mario burst into laughter. "I have never heard you speak in such a manner before," he exclaimed. "You are jealous of me."
"Yes," she admitted openly. "You forget that I am a woman! Not a man! Unlike a man, I am by nature possessive. I resent sharing you ... especially with a man."
Mario swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed where he made everything seem right with an act of love. Before dropping the subject, however, Alyse extracted a promise from him that he would end his relationship with Chalfont.
"Leave me alone with him," Mario requested. "Let me get more money out of him first, and then I promise I will tell him about us."
It was planned that for a few days Alyse would move in with a friend of Mario's, a young lady who knew the truth about Alyse's sex. Alyse had stayed with her on other occasions when Perceval Chalfont visited Paris. It was customary for Mario to take the train to Le Havre to meet Chalfont's boat which he fully intended doing this time. Nothing, however, worked out the way it was planned.
Chalfont made a surprise visit to Paris a day early. Mario was in class that morning and Alyse was the only one in the studio apartment when Chalfont arrived unexpectedly. Caught completely off guard with nothing more than a large towel draped around her body (she had just stepped out of a tub), Alyse had no choice but to introduce herself by her right name.
"I was kicked out of my room," she explained feebly "and Mario was kind enough to let me stay here for several days until I can find another place."
"Are you a model?" Chalfont inquired.
"Yes." That seemed to be as good a reason for knowing Mario as anything. "Yes," Alyse admitted. "I pose for him on occasions."
Instead of Chalfont being resentful at finding a young lady in Mario's quarters, Alyse was pleasantly relieved when the Englishman turned out to be so charming and solicitous of her. "I wouldn't dream of putting you out on the street, my dear," he said. There's enough room here for all three of us. Should be jolly, unless you have any objections to my being here."
"Oh, no," she said. "It's very kind of you to let me stay on. I mean I know you pay for Mario's rooms. Mario told me. I ... I just hope I won't be in the way."
"Not at all, my dear. And if there should be any complications, I can always take rooms at a hotel."
He was immediately enchanted by Alyse, her youth and beauty; and he went out of his way to win her friendship. He bought her little gifts. When he and Mario went out for the evening, Chalfont insisted upon Alyse joining them. His excuse to a very surprised Mario was "If I should run into anybody from London, it looks better if we have a young lady with us."
Mario was of course delighted that Chalfont made it totally unnecessary for him to keep his promise to Alyse, but he was baffled when Chalfont made such statements as, "You must be blind, Mario, not to have fallen in love with her. She is lovely. Tomorrow I will purchase a wig for her to cover that crop on her head and you will see." During Chalfont's one week stay in Paris he never once laid a hand upon Mario with an ulterior motive behind it, but when he left he insisted that Alyse stay on with Mario, where she could be looked after and cared for. Chalfont's parting words gave Mario his first clue as to what was behind the dapper Englishman's motives. "She's such a delightful little creature. She is a strong argument in favor of heterosexual relation ships."
"Who is arguing," Mario responded.
"My mother and father have been distressed to death that I have shown no interest in women whatsoever. The family name and honor and all that sort of thing, you know."
"No interest in women at all?" Mario wished to confirm.
"Only because I could not get sexually stimulated by them."
"Do you think you could with the lovely Alyse?"
"With your assistance, I could, old boy. Think about it, and I'll try to get back to Paris within a month."
"What's there to think about, Perceval?"
"Take an interest in Alyse. See if you can get her to go to bed with you."
Mario's pride was somewhat ruffled. "I know she would," he stated. "I have only to ask her. She would even bend over and present to me her ass."
"Then you have my full permission," Chalfont replied.
"Are you trying to throw me over, Perceval?"
"Of course not, my dear boy. I-adore you and I always will ... but there are such things as appearances."
To prove that he meant what he said Chalfont was extremely generous monetarily with Mario, instructing him to purchase some pretty clothes for Alyse with some of the money.
"Well, you've certainly made a conquest with Perceval," Mario said later to Alyse when they were alone together once again. "He gave me none of his attention this visit."
"Pity," Alyse smiled, thinking it was Mario's turn to be jealous. "I did not think I would like him, but I did. I could not help it. He was so kind and thoughtful."
"He does hot buy pretty clothes for young girls for nothing," Mario reminded her. "He is coming back before the month is out and then he is going to expect something."
Now it was Mario's turn to be amused when Alyse's eyebrows knit into a frown. "What does he expect? He does not desire my body. He is a devout man lover."
"He thinks you may be able to change that status for him. He has never been able to get an erection with a woman before, but he thinks he could if he watched us."
All of Alyse's womanly instincts rushed to the surface. It flattered her to think that of all the women Perceval Chalfont had met in this world, she alone could be the one to reform his sexual tastes. There was the problem of Mario to also consider. She loved him very much, but so did many people, men as well as women. It was important to Alyse now that Mario did not take her love for granted.
"What a delightful way to show our appreciation," Alyse said somewhat seductively. "He is a gentle man. I would not be intimidated if he watched us."
"He wouldn't want to just watch, my lovely."
"What then?"
"Once he was worked up, he would want to take over and leave me off."
Alyse was not the same naive girl she was when she first arrived in Paris six months before. She had learned a lot and seen a lot, but the idea of two men taking turns with her gave her a bit of a jolt. She gulped hard, pausing to consider it-to consider her situation with Mario. At best it was unstable. "Oh, two lovers," she enthused falsely. "That might prove to be most inciting."
When Chalfont returned to Paris, he squired Alyse all over town, taking her to expensive restaurants, buying her beautiful gifts. He even agreed to sponsor her studies at a ballet school, and would have if Alyse had taken the initiative to pursue a career, which she never did. The money she received every month from her stepfather she indulged on Mario and herself and whatever was left over she banked. For six months she had played the role of a boy, wearing boy's clothes, so it is understandable how Chalfont was able to sweep her off her feet so easily. He made her feel like a woman again. She thoroughly enjoyed wearing the latest Paris styles and being noticed by other men, who turned their heads to stare as she walked past them or made an entrance into a restaurant.
Perceval Chalfont gave Alyse something Mario was incapable of giving her. He made her feel like a love goddess, an entirely new role for her, but the role Alyse eventually settled upon permanently.
Much to Alyse's disappointment, Mario offered no objections to the time Chalfont squandered upon her. He knew who buttered his bread and said nothing, even though he was risking a loss of respect from Alyse.
I explain all this to my reader so that he will understand the frame of mind Alyse was in that afternoon when she lunched with Chalfont at a sidewalk cafe on the Champs-Elysees, and why she listened so attentively to Chalfont when he made his proposition to her.
"I am very grateful to you, my dear," he admitted. "I do not have to explain to you, how I feel about Mario, but having you there at Mario's quarters has had a lifting affect upon me emotionally. Thanks to you I feel charged and masculine. For awhile I had given up all hope of enjoying my manhood. I thought I had lost it forever."
"I am glad, Percy, that I have been able to give you hope."
"You have, my dear. In fact you alone could help me to reclaim my manhood, if you would consider it."
"How could I be of help, Percy?"
"Do you love, Mario?"
"I do not know. That is the truth. I think I do, but does he love me? But what does that have to do with me being able to help you?"
I have to return to London tomorrow. Would you mind terribly if I sat beside you and Mario tonight while he made love to you? If watching two such handsome people as you and Mario together helped to get me worked up, I would lavish wealth and luxury upon you for the privilege of providing my manhood with you." His voice trailed off nervously and he stared at Alyse awaiting an answer.
The proposition did not come as a shock to Alyse. She had been forewarned by Mario and she had expected it. In fact she had already decided what her answer would be.
"Percy, I am not a whore, and I would never accept money for my love, but I would willingly become whatever was necessary, if it would help you to become a man."
After such an answer Percy Chalfont would have given the world to Alyse Woodwin. He took her hand in his and kissed it gently. "You are indeed a rare creature of beauty and great depth," he said.
That evening found the three of them stark naked together on Mario's enormous bed, that was said to have belonged to Napoleon at one time. The bedroom chamber was brightly lighted so that Chalfont might observe all that Mario did with Alyse.
As Alyse explained it to me, having an audience charged her with a new and untapped excitement, that forestalled any shame or embarrassment she might have felt. She readily lifted her legs high into the air to accommodate Mario, and in so doing exposed her anus as well as her vulva to Chalfont. Mario wedged his muscular body between her thighs. His penis was hard and throbbing and distended at least seven inches in length. It did not have to be held or positioned. Mario only had to separate the lips of her vulva and plow himself into her vagina. As he did so a gasp escaped from an enthralled Percy Chalfont. The eager Englishman laid upon the bed with his head resting near the couple's hips, which availed him a clear, direct view of the crotch areas. In such a position he was able to observe everything in close detail.
While Mario continued stabbing his weapon into Alyse, she turned her head to one side and was able to study Chalfon's face. He had a hungry eager look in his eyes, and he kept licking his lips nervously and lustfully.
He was perspiring almost as badly as she and Mario. He had his hand between his legs and was masturbating a limp penis that began to grow and grow in size and eventually became rigid and erect. He began to groan from the satisfied pleasure, his teeth clenched, his eyes glistening with untrammeled ecstasy.
His expression inspired Alyse to reach a new emotional and physical peak of fever and excitement. Chalfont began to whimper in a way that admitted his desperate need for sexual fulfillment with a woman. It was most stimulating, and forced Alyse to squirm tighter against Mario's body, which was rock-hard, slick and slippery. His manly, sensuous stench drove Alyse wild and as Mario drilled his cock into the very heart of her nerve center, she matched his pace, churning her body in a rhythm with his, then suddenly rearing against him with reckless abandon.
As Mario increased his tempo, his fingers clutched tightly to the fleshy cheeks of her buttocks. Together they started climbing to indescribable heights of joy. Then Alyse took a cue from Mario and let her fingers wander around his hips to the hole of his anus. She knew that Chalfont could see all that she did. Her forefinger began to poke Mario with an outrageous lack of constraint. The forbidden and unmerciful jabbing and probing only served to heighten Mario's wild, frothing excitement.
All this had an overwhelming effect upon Chalfont, who could not restrain from getting into the act, heaping another sensational assault upon the now half crazed Mario. While continuing to jerk his own rigid shaft, Chalfont permitted the fingers of his free hand to tickle Mario's dangling testicles. Mario almost leaped into the air. The sensation, however, forced him to jam against Alyse with greater force. Then, as Chalfont leaned over and caressed Mario's scrotum with a wet tongue, Mario tensed the muscles of his buttocks and pushed on with his pumping at a speed that was almost inhuman.
While grunting hoarsely like an overcharged bull, Mario intoned a hymn to Apollo and brought Alyse to the very peak of passionate surrender. Her body began shivering spasmodically, and Mario knew if the exchange was to be made, it had to be then ... right then.
"She's at the point of popping," he announced tensely. "We're both going to climax any moment."
"I can take over," Chalfont grunted between gasping breaths. "Pull out quickly, dear boy."
Alyse was moaning from the pleasurable agony Mario was inflicting upon her. They had gained such momentum, she prayed that he would not pull out now. "There isn't time," she cried. "I can't wait." Her nails dug forcefully into the flesh on Mario's back.
"How much is it worth?" he choked out to Chalfont. "If I can break contact."
"Name your price," the Englishman said strained and eager, "but get off of her, in Heaven's name."
Just before Alyse was ready to explode into a thousand pieces, Mario pulled his enormous shaft out of her as quickly as he could and rolled off of her. The abruptness of his withdrawal forced Alyse to cry out in agony. Chalfont quickly assumed Mario's position over Alyse and brought her to a climax, while Mario erupted all over the sheets with his uncontrollable, throbbing weapon in his hand. The trio exploded again and again with almost precision timing. It was an astounding sex bolero between three people, with the third member of the trio taking a solo on the flute.
Alyse's hands flared up to her temples, her fingers pulling at her short cropped hair, her head rocking from side to side, as she screamed out like a poor soul just released from purgatory. An instant later she rode a toboggan together with Mario and Chalfont down an incredibly steep slope to collapse expended and gasping in the valley of fulfillment below.
As a result of this liaison the sparks of an incredible lust that had lain dormant within Alyse's body were now ignited into a raging flame that could not be extinguished. Alyse explained it to me thusly and her words burned into my brain forever.
"After that evening I could never get enough. The love of just one man left me unsatisfied and unfulfilled. No man or woman was ever able to put out the fire that burned within me until I met you, my own dear Gregorio. With you alone I have been able to curb my appetite.
"That enormous woman-tamer you possess between your legs has succeeded in quieting my pangs, but before you came into my life, my existence was a living hell. Now you know why my past is so tarnished with perverted and obscene encounters.
"I had several more sessions with Mario and Percy each taking turns on me, but it was never enough. As Mario's love for me grew, I became more indifferent. This shattered his ego and for awhile he tried being possessive, but he only succeeded in torturing himself. I flaunted my infidelities in his face, and eventually Mario reverted to his homosexual tendencies. Dear Percy was the only one who seemed to flourish as a result of the liaison with me. As a bi-sexual he traveled well between his two worlds and was able to keep up appearances. In gratitude he showered me with luxuries-a beautifully furnished apartment, a maid, magnificent jewels and fine furs. I had everything a woman could ask for except emotional and physical fulfillment.
"There seemed to be no answer to my sexual hunger. I consulted a doctor about my plight, and he suggested that I allow him to seduce me in a clinical manner. That egotistical fool! I emasculated him. One evening his efforts to satisfy me brought on heart failure and a few days later he died.
"My search for release was unceasing, I began to think that I was incapable of being satisfied or reaching with each new liaison. It was my fear of failure that compelled me to prove myself, to be the most alluring, glamorous and sexually attractive woman in all Paris. I let my hair grow long again and I started wearing flamboyant gowns that stressed my physical attributes. My provocative behavior in public became the talk of Paris. All at once I was both infamous and famous.
"Night and day I wanted sex. I needed it. Just thinking about it drove me wild, My desperation was overwhelming. I began to conjure up erotic thoughts and fantasies in my mind which aroused me, but I had no physical response when I was with a man. No matter what the man did to me, I felt nothing. My body was numb, and remained so until you came along, dear Gregorio and awakened my responses.
"About this time Mario met Jim Corey. I believe they were having a relationship which did not bother me as I had long since dismissed Mario as a serious lover. I liked Jim. He had just returned from an extensive tour of Asia and the Far East, and he had many lurid ideas and new customs to impart to us. For me he suggested having a party in which only men were invited.
I would be the only woman present, and the only attraction. The men would fight to vie for my attention and I could take whatever I wanted. Who ever was left over, Jim planned to lure into his own net.
"All the male guests were disappointed, naturally, when they arrived at the party expecting an ample number of young ladies and discovered that I was the only woman present. I deliberately dressed provocatively that evening with the plunging neckline of my gown just barely covering the nipples of my breasts.
"I held my shoulders back and thrust my breasts forward so that they appeared ready to burst out of their confinements. Despite their seemingly casual manners, they all stared at me lustfully, which was exactly what I wanted them to do. It amused me to see how excitable I could get them and know that they too suffered with hungry desires. I had only to flash my eyes at them and they all responded automatically.
"One young man at the party was extremely shy. His name was Julien, and I could not resist the temptation of teasing and intimidating him. I beckoned my hand to him to help me up off the settee. The poor boy. Before he realized what was happening to him, I was in his arms, pressing my body firmly against his, my lips devouring his, my tongue exploring the roof of his mouth. Naturally in the presence of so many other men, he was humiliated by such intimate behavior and tried to disengage himself from me. However my desires became more intense with the contact and I was forced to take charge. Although Julien pulled away from me, I held his wrist and continued moving closer to him, probing for his genitals with my free hand. Julien just gaped at me in stunned silence while the others laughed. The dear young thing was so frightened and confused when I stood before him and started to disrobe, forcing his trembling hands to unfasten the hooks on my gown.
"When my gown slipped away and fell to the floor all the men surrounding me burst into resounding applause, but when they realized that I did not intend stopping there and they saw my undergarments being peeled away one by one, a deadly silence fell over the group. They all became as stunned as Julien at my unexpected display of nudity and depraved gyrations. I cast an erotic spell that held them hypnotically fascinated I felt strangely triumphant and began to dance for them, gyrating my hips, swinging my breasts brazenly, knowing full well that every move I made heightened their illicit desires. I loved every moment of it.
"My frenzy and hunger steadily increased, and when I felt I could stand it no longer, I grabbed the poor bewildered Julien by the wrist and forced him to accommodate me. Stretching out on the rug, I savagely yanked him down on top of me and locked my arms about his neck. Then I began kissing him with a fervor that took his breath away. His confusion only made me more and more impatient for the sexual act itself. I ordered him to remove his clothes, but he was so dazed by my passionate assault upon him that he was unable to comply fast enough to suit me. I ripped and clawed at his trouser opening and withdrew his penis myself and positioned it against the lips to my vagina.
"Poor Julien not only had no opportunity to remove his own clothes, he had no preliminary love-play to get himself sufficiently erect. Soft as it was, I poked it through my vulva with my index finger and intercourse began almost at once. Julien began to grow inside of me, a new sensation I had not experienced before. It was delightfully agonizing. I became so violent and convulsive that Julien forgot all about the other male guests who were presently looking on, some flushed and excited, others stunned and embarrassed.
"I remember at one point I began laughing hysterically and then as my need became more desperate, I started crying. I knew little Julien would never be able to satisfy me and I became annoyed with his feeble attempts to give me pleasure. Screaming out my displeasure of him, I pushed him off of me before he had reached a climax. The poor boy lay on the floor with his penis in his hand, squirreling and unfulfilled, as I propped myself up on one elbow and demanded another fresh lover.
"My second victim had already became sufficiently aroused by what he had seen and needed no further coaxing. He quickly removed his clothes and positioned himself adroitly between my legs, guiding his rigid tool skillfully into my demanding canal. Unable to resist the urgency of my body, intercourse was swift and violent and unsatisfying. I believe I cursed him for his inadequacy and once he had exploded inside of me I kicked him off, causing him to roll over beside Julien. Jim Corey was hovering over the boy now and taking care of Julien's unfulfilled need with his mouth.
"Although I was now bathed in perspiration, my sexual hunger was still unappeased. Breathing fast, my desperation and panic gained momentum, I scanned the group of male guests, searching for the two most virile stags in the lot. One of the gentleman I spotted was well known as a boxer who was soon to journey to America to make a bid for the world championship. I beckoned to him with my finger, but he approached me with an air of cockiness and sophistication. He was willing to accommodate me and by his expression he was assured that he could, but he would not be commanded. He would be master of the situation. Not I. By the slow way in which he started to remove his clothes I could tell that he was determined not to be rushed. He was going to take his time with me. He had a smug grin upon his lips as he gazed down upon me and saw me squirming and pleading at his feet. He was going to torment me by holding back.
"I waited for the right moment, and then when he was completely divested of his clothing I reached up and swung upon his penis with great force and pressure. He released a cry of pain as his knees buckled under the pull upon his penis and he collapsed to the floor. He was not prepared for my savagery and found it impossible to remain master of the situation. As his own passion mounted, I believe I went completely out of control. I was screaming and raking his flesh, digging my nails into his neck and back in such a frenzy that he began to bleed.
"Now it became apparent to all the men present at that party they were dealing with an over-sexed, half-crazed female who they feared might destroy herself if she did not find a release. They all began to take part in some small way, doing what they could to appease me.
"Jim instructed one of his male friends, a handsome rogue whose name was Charles, to lie on the floor facing the rugged boxer. By Charles placing his right leg over the boxer's left leg and allowing the boxer to place his right leg over Charles' left one as Jim directed them, the two men discovered their crotches could be brought together.
"Then Jim instructed them to lie back which they did. Both men had large erect penises that were distended to the exploding point. Jim united both penises by tying them together at the base of their trunks.
"While traveling through the Orient, Jim had seen a demonstration of a multiple copulation done in this manner. With the two men positioned in such a fashion and with their penises tied together, I was able to sit down over them and slowly admit both shafts into my vaginal orifice. It was the tightest fit possible and I experienced the pain of stretching to the utmost inside my sheath. Both men were situated so that they could hardly stir, but both their shafts were buried deep inside of me, taut and throbbing, quivering with lust.
"It was a delirious moment. I could feel the hard fullness inside of me pressing and pulling and releasing my tensions. At last I knew I would be able to have an orgasm. At last I had something big enough and long enough and hard enough in side to satisfy all my hungry desire, but it took two men bound together before I could be fulfilled.
"Mario was there and watching in open-mouthed wonder, as I moved up and down on the two men, who were moaning and gritting their teeth. When he could watch no longer without participating, Mario removed his trousers and moved in front of me, with his naked thighs on either side of my head. For a few moments I rested my feverish brow against his genitals, then I grabbed the trunk of his penis and began to manipulate it between my fingers. It was a beautifully shaped instrument and I could not restrain from taking it into my mouth and sucking upon the sweet fat head.
"This gave ideas to others standing on the side lines. One naked young man came up behind Mario and pressed the front of his body against Mario's back. He wiggled in such a way that indicated he was seeking entrance into Mario's anus. Mario bent forward slightly to accommodate him and Mario's rock hard penis stabbed half way down my throat.
"A head bobbed between Mario's legs and my chest and began nibbling on the nipple of my breast, agitating it and forcing it to expand and become prickly. My head was tilted up and back at the gentleman, but out of the corners of my eyes I could see he was down on hands and knees with only his head wedged against my breasts. In such an inviting position, however, he was approached from behind by another guest who sank to his knees with his own weapon firmly in hand ready for a stabbing.
"There was one final sensation that I must mention, minor as it may seem in view of what was already going on.
I became aware of a tickling sensation in my foot. Somebody had gripped my ankle and held it firmly in place while he licked my toes lightly and teasingly. It caused my pelvis to squirm and rotate all the more and the double hard pressure inside of me became all the more wonderful and unbearable. Soon I felt myself arriving at a crisis multiple in its intensity, created by the physical contact of five ardent men, two of which shared the same orifice. In a state of wild frenzy. I sucked upon Mario's crest vigorously, then swooned and melted away to butter with a resounding groan of total release.
"The other men, that is Mario, Charles and the boxer discharged along with me and we all soared to the peaks of ecstatic fulfillment and joy. My vagina filled and overflowed with the double discharge of sperm from Charles and the boxer, while Mario's tribute gushed into my mouth, forcing me to gulp to be rid of some of it. All three discharges were abundant, as was my own, which had been so long in coming. Now my entire body seemed saturated and released from its searing urgency.
"When intermingled sighs and groans of rapture faded away, I collapsed into a state of semi-consciousness from which I did not rally that evening. It was a dazed, half awake, half asleep repose which an occasional stabbing pain from all the abusive treatment in my groin did not affect.
"It was the next morning that Mario approached me with his idea for the painting "Erotica." I immediately agreed to it because it fit in with my emotional wants and desires. I had to have multiple copulation in order to be satisfied. This meant that Mario would have to provide the male models and if one gave out another one had to be provided for the love goddess.
"Word about the project was whispered about Paris. Mario allowed no outsiders to visit the studio or to see the unfinished stages of the painting, except Percy Chalfont who was financing the project. It became a source of infamous speculation along Saint-Germain Boulevard. There were wide spread rumors about the models who were engaged by Mario and what they were expected to do. It made a shocking bit of juicy gossip. Unfortunately the authorities got wind of it, and a raid was made on Mario's studio.
Percy was in Paris at the time. Through a political friend of his father, Percy was informed an hour before the raid occurred. He went directly to the studio, to warn me and the other models to get out as we would be subject to arrest. Mario was not there. He was out getting more paint. The "Erotica" was near completion, a magnificent work. It could not be left in the studio to be confiscated. I had to help Percy to get it out before the authorities arrived. We hid the painting in a wine cellar of a friend's cafe a-cross the street from the studio.
"While we were there Mario returned to his studio and was caught by the authorities, who arrested him for conducting illicit practices. He was held overnight on an open charge, and during that time was questioned at length. Fortunately he did not know where the Erotica was hidden, or who had removed it from the studio, so he could tell the authorities nothing.
"Percy advised me to get out of Paris. He gave me money and put on the train that afternoon. My destination was Roma. Percy stayed on and made arrangements to get the painting out of the city. A week later Mario and Percy joined me in Roma. Jim Corey soon followed as we were all part of the same society.
'Now my darling Gregoroio you know everything-every detail of the truth about my past. The night that I met you everything else ended.
I have lived only for you. There is nothing that can stand between us now."
Her tale of perversion had almost unnerved me completely, but I was resolved to know everything at this point. I had one more question to ask of her.
"And what of Phoebe? How did you come to be involved with her kind of love?"
"Ah, it was when I left Paris. I arrived in Rome totally friendless and the first person I met was Phoebe. She was cruising the train station, searching for a young girl like myself to take home and teach the rites of lesbian love to-although I did not know it at the time.
"She was very kind to me and put me up in her tiny house for a week until Percy and Mario could come and fetch me.
"It was an eventful week, I must admit. The very first night I had soaked in a hot tub for almost an hour, trying to relieve the strain of my trip and my fear at being on my own again. I had just stepped out of the bath to dry myself when Phoebe entered the room."
"Oh, Alyse, you are so beautiful! May I stay and watch you dry yourself?" Her face was flushed and her eyes held a strange gleam, but I was too tired to really notice these signs. Not finding anything wrong with her request, I told her to remain in the room as long as she wished.
"Here," she offered, taking the towel from my hand, "Let me do it, dear."
"She began to rub me down with the soft terry towel and it felt so good, so relaxing, until she began to take special care in drying my sex. At this point I felt a little embarrassed and tried to move away, but it was too late. With a cry, Phoebe dropped to her knees in front of me and buried her head in my fur.
"Phoebe, what is wrong with you?" I asked the trembling girl. "Please stand up, dear."
"Oh, Alyse, I must have you. You are so beautiful, your body is so magnificent. Have you never been loved by another woman?"
"I was startled but the thought did not repel me. I told her that I had never had the opportunity to taste another's woman's sex, but that I did not find it repulsive. It was then that Phoebe resolved to indoctrinate me in the ways of forbidden love! If she had only known the depths of depravity to which I had already dropped she might have thought better of it.
"However, she led me into my bed chamber and told me to stretch out on the bed and make myself comfortable. She would do everything herself, I was just to lie back and enjoy it.
"True to her word, Phoebe did indeed take great pains in bringing me to the ultimate climax.
I was surprised at first that she knew all the secret places that hid my insatiable lust-but I was more surprised when she actually brought me to a screaming orgasm with her mouth and hands. If you-remember, no other person had been able to do this for me except for my bout with two men in my vagina at the same time. To say that I was entranced with her talent would be an understatement-I was overjoyed!
"From that day on we have remained the best of friends-and occasional lovers-until you entered my life. I knew that I did not need her kind of sex anymore but I did not want to hurt the poor girl by breaking off with her abruptly. I have tried to see her less and less, and she is aware of the way I feel about you. Soon it shall end, I know, but she is in love with me, Gregorio."
So, I had heard it all; I knew I would need time to think about all that Alyse had told me this night, and I would need a great deal of time to accept it as well, but for the moment my heart still burned with a love that could not, it would seem, be extinguished by even the most depraved actions. I was hopelessly lost, captivated by her erotic spell, by her magnificent body, by her spirit. I loved her!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Our troubles, however, did not end with Alyse's confession about her relationship with Mario Aiello. Following the night I witnessed the pagan ritual, the tall gaunt man we had seen in the catacombs on the Sunday we had taken the guided tour followed Alyse's footsteps whenever she left the house. He became like a shadow, occasionally disappearing for a day or two, but always returning to glide behind her through the narrow streets of Roma. His presence began to haunt me.
"Who is he?" I demanded of Alyse, "And what does he want from you"
"I don't know, darling." She replied each time, appearing to be as bewildered by his appearance as I. "I've begged him not to follow me but he says it is his duty!"
"His duty! I shall put an end to this none-sense."
"But Gregorio," Alyse pleaded with me, "I'm afraid of him! Please stay away from the man.
I feel he brings only bad fortune and if it is meant for me, I don't want to involve you. Promise me."
I promise Alyse that I would not contact the stranger personally but I had already resolved to take whatever official steps I could to put an end to his constant dogging of our every move.
I filed a complaint with the police, who came to our address and removed him from our courtyard. We did not see him for a week and then he reappeared again. From the window I studied him as he stood in the courtyard waiting. Dark, bushy-bearded, wild in aspect and attire, he looked like he might have just stepped out of a painting. Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I thought that I had seen him someplace before. His face was faintly familiar, but I dismissed such thoughts, reasoning that I was only jealous and my mind was playing tricks on me. As for his attaching himself so devotedly to Alyse, her personal beauty and magnetism might explain it. Or a more plausible theory, and one that I truly feared, he might be a lunatic. But the police would surely have recognized it when they locked him up for a few days.
One evening we attended the ballet. It was a beautiful clear moon-reflected evening and we decided to walk back to the duplex. In the daytime there is hardly a livelier scene in Roma than the area of the Fountain of Trevi. Because the water is the clearest and cleanest in all of Roma, the area throngs with idlers, vendors, street urchins and maidens bearing pitchers upon their head But during the early midnight hours the piazza was a solitude and a romantic delight to behold. We paused to gaze upon the fountain and our reflected images in the water. Suddenly we did not see two shadows at the bottom of the basin, we saw three-a third shadow reflected on the other side of Alyse.
"Look," she exclaimed, "three shadows." She turned about while speaking, and saw beside her the tall stranger whose attendance upon her was not only annoying but getting on our nerves. She looked at him with an aspect of real terror and concern now. Then recovering herself, she leaned over the fountain and took up some water in the hollow of her hand and dashed it in her persecutor's face.
"In the name of God," she cried, "will you vanish and let me be free of you forever?"
"Never," he replied softly and calmly. "I am what is left of Mario Aiello's spirit-the spirit that loved you, not the spirit that killed himself because of you. I must now protect you from his avenging spirit."
"What is he talking about?" I demanded.
"I don't know," Alyse replied.
"What did he mean about Mario committing suicide?"
"It is true," the tall stranger replied "He begged her to return to him, but she did not.
"I told him I loved another ... the man beside me," said Alyse.
"It broke his spirit and left him with no will to live."
I pulled Alyse back and seized the tall stranger by the throat and throttled him violently. He made no effort to fight me off even though he had a strength greater than mine. "Stay away from us," I warned him. "If you don't, I will kill you."
"We will not be rid of him until he is dead," Alyse cried out. "Kill him now."
I turned to stare at her. There was fury gleaming in her eyes. "Who is he, Alyse? I pulled her to one side out of the tall stranger's earshot. "You must tell me, if you have known him be-for."
"He was one of the last models Mario used for the "Erotica," she explained. "He was picked up off the street "He is quite mad. And we are quite mad to tolerate him any longer."
"Did you mean what you said just now?" She hesitated. "No, of course not. Let us leave him and be off."
We left the tall stranger standing beside the fountain, hailed a cab and went directly home. Nothing was said regarding the incident. Alyse excused himself and retired to the bedroom to get undressed. I remained in the sitting room with a cigar and a brandy to mull over that I had just learned. If the stranger, who was no longer a stranger, but an identified figure in Alyse's past, had been one of the models used in the painting it meant that Alyse had had sexual relations with him. The thought of his bony fingers touching her revolted me. Something about him was strangely dark and repulsive and hideous. He was part of that cult that held its ceremonies in the catacombs. I shuddered as I considered it.
Now the question remained: Had Alyse told me everything?
"Yes," she said as if she had read my thoughts, while descending the stairs in her night clothes. "He will continue to haunt us."
"Do we have anything to fear from him, Alyse?"
"Yes," she whispered. "He is a link with my past. As mad as he is, he has the power to hypnotize me, to make me do horrible things. I'm afraid of him, Gregorio. I am afraid he will destroy our love."
I crossed to the window and glanced down in the courtyard. He was there, leaning against the courtyard wall, his eyes closed, sleeping on his feet. Like some evil omen, he did propose a threat to our future happiness.
Alyse stood behind me now, whispering in my ear. "I am going to have your baby," she announced. "If you love me, prove it now. Get rid of that creature in the courtyard. Destroy the last link with my past, with Mario, with the "Erotica."
My head began spinning. Alyse was going to bear me a child! Nothing must jeopardize our future now. A protective urge engulfed me. She was asking me to kill, asking me to prove my love for her. Drawing me into my room, she pressed me close to her breasts and with a clinging embrace brought our hearts together until the panic and doubt of each was combined into one emotion, and that a kind of hopeless rapture.
I made a decision! "Call to him," I instructed her. "Have him come up here. I will be waiting for him."
Alyse looked at me wide-eyed. She knew I meant what I said. She planted a kiss of fire upon my lips, then whispered. "The deed will bind us together for time and eternity."
From my desk in the study I equipped myself with a lethal dagger that I used to open letters.
I stood behind the main entrance door and waited for him to enter. The details of this evening are vague because I know now that I must have been temporarily out of my head. I would never have thrown my life away with such an impulsive act. If I suddenly became overly possessive and protective toward Alyse and my unborn child, there were surely other avenues I could have employed in dealing with the tall strange one. But the bizarre story of Alyse's life was fresh in my memory. It had been an adventure ... a romantic adventure ... compared to the dull uneventful life I had offered her so far and I was competing with her past.
I plunged the dagger deep into his side. He let out a shriek and crumpled to the floor. Both Alyse and I gazed down upon the heap of death on the floor to assure ourselves it was there and not just a nightmare from which we would a-waken. I waited while Alyse counted to ten. Nothing stirred; not a finger moved, not a breath expelled.
"He is quite dead," she sighed.
"Would that I were too," I said, suddenly coming to my senses.
"No," she contradicted. "We are rid of him. We are rid of the past forever."
My only thoughts at that moment were how to contend with the horror of the present. The body had to be disposed of. The hour was right. It was late and the city was asleep. I carried the body downstairs and placed it in the service carriage that was available to the tenants of the building, while Alyse unlocked the stable door. With as little disturbance as possible I harnessed a horse to the carriage. Alyse went with me. It had seemed to be the strange one's dark pleasure to dwell among the tombs so we delivered his body in the catacombs of St. Calixtus, not more than a few yards into one of the passages. Alyse had thought to bring candles and lighted the way for me.
Depositing the body in one of the small crevices, I stood staring down at it while Alyse said a whispered prayer. Then we turned from that ghastly sight and ran out of the passageway, arm in arm, heart in heart. Unconsciously we did not sever ourselves so much as few inches from one another, for fear of the terror and deadly chill that would thenceforth be waiting for us as we drove away from the tombs. Our deadly deed, a crime which I wrought and Alyse inspired, had wreathed itself in inextricable links about our guilty souls, and drew us together into one unit as a result of its terrible significance. It brought us closer than any marriage vows. So intimate so secretive was this new union of guilt we shared that it seemed to annihilate all other ties. We were released from the chains of accepted behavior. We reached a new sphere with a special law that was created for us alone. The world could not come near us now. We stood alone together against all else.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I killed a man, and I did not know his name. Alyse said that he had no name; that Mario had called him the Owl because of his wild eyes. If the authorities had found his body that week, there was no notice of it in the newspapers. Day and night I remained at home waiting to be visited by the authorities, who never came. I did not venture out of my abode fearing that the ghost of my victim would hand me my retribution in the form of an ill fated accident of some sort. Nevertheless it did not prevent the image of my victim from entering my thoughts, his face invading my dreams to such an extent that I could not sleep at night.
"Rest your heart on me, my dear Gregorio!" Alyse said. "Let me bear all the weight. I am able to bear it. I was born to be evil. You were not. So, please, try to forget and be more cheerful."
"Cheerful?" I exclaimed. "Is such a thing ever possible for me again? I think not."
"What a terrible thing to say to the woman who loves you and is soon to bear you a child. If you love me, Gregorio, please put all thoughts of this night mare out of your mind."
"I cannot," I admitted, turning away from her. "I have tried, but I cannot." I could not look at her without being reminded of my guilt. "Then you do not love me," she replied.
"I loved you ... once, more than life," I said facing the fireplace, with my back to her.
"Loved me once," she repeated. "Not now?
Please, Gregorio, look at me. If you look into my eyes you will see the affection and devotion that I cherish for you."
"Forgive me," I murmured "I cannot look at you right now."
"Heretofore, you have found me pleasant to your sight."
"Once! Not now. When I gaze into your eyes now, I see your soul and the evil deed I have committed for your sake."
There was a prolonged silence as a shiver of guilt ran through me, as if the iciest winds from the North were blowing over me.
After a while, Alyse spoke. "I should never have come into your life, even though you have brought me my greatest happiness. I have done you a greater wrong." She came to me at the fireplace and stood before me with a sad, commiserating aspect. "My dear, you must leave me," she said grievously. "Once I am out of your sight, all that has passed will be recognized as but an ugly dream. The deed you committed will be no more than a dream."
"And you? What about you?" I said.
"Tell yourself I never existed, and I too will pass."
"Go and forget all that has happened" I said with a bitter smirk. "That is easier said than done. It's the image of his face ... that terrible face with the owl eyes that torment me through every waking hour. It's as real as if he were still alive."
"You are visualizing it with dreaming eyes, my dearest love. It no longer exists, and that you may feel it so, it is a requisite that you see my face no more. Once you thought it beautiful and loved to look upon it, but now it has lost its charm. You cannot bring back a past illusion, no matter how you try. The past must remain dead, or else you find your life filled with ugliness and remorse. Leave me, therefore, and forget me."
A week later I gave myself up to the authorities, but Alyse never left my thoughts. The body had been discovered in the catacombs and was classified "unknown." I told them what I knew about the fellow without involving Alyse. I had to keep her out of it. I told them he had been annoying me for money. They had a record that I had reported him and had him jailed. I said that I felt sorry and had invited him into my house where he threatened me unless I gave him money and I killed him in self defense.
I disgraced my family's name in Spain. Because of my title the newspapers made a great deal of the case. Alyse got in touch with Percy Chafont, who had been given the title of Lord upon his father's death and took his father's place as a member of the House of Lords. She pleaded with him to use his influence to help me, but his name and title did not carry much weight in Italy, not any more than mine did. For awhile, however, I thought I might go free until it was discovered that the strange one had been a Capuchin monk, who because of a pattern of mental disturbances had run away from the order and his monastery in northern Italy. The monks who had known him said he was not a violent man; and that it was not in his nature to harm or threaten. He loved every living thing.
I got life imprisonment!
When it was over I was very much relieved.
The feelings of guilt no longer haunted me and I was able to sleep at night. I had committed a crime of passion and I was now paying for my mistake. That is as it should be. If I had it to do over my life would be much the same except I would not have killed the man. I have never regretted loving Alyse Woodwin. She brought a certain vitality into my life that I never would have had without her. I'm grateful for that. "Regret nothing," Alyse would say. "Life is short and nature is hostile." I have tried to adopt that theory since I've been in prison.
Prison life has, of course, been a living hell. I do not know how I have been able to endure it sometimes. Of course writing about Alyse and our love has given me a purpose for existing, but the men here in prison are animals and I am slowly becoming one of them.
I knew not the meaning of the word "sordid" until I threw my lot in with these men. At night after reading time and the cells are thrown into darkness you may hear the sucking noises throughout the block ... sucking noises intermingled with grunts and groans and moans and sighs and popping noises. The night after I arrived at the prison and was placed in a cell with four other men, they were all at me, chewing on my cock, holding my hands and my feet while they each took turns poking into my anus and into my mouth. At first I screamed and squirmed and for this they beat me and took my plate of food from me for a day.
Once the guard came and laughed. He knew what was happening. The prisoners held me for him and he withdrew his penis and fornicated my mouth, then turned me back over to the prisoners for more intimidation.
It was another time and another place but the situation was the same. Only the characters and the scene had changed. These were men not school boys and I was at prison, not in a private boys school. The more I rebelled the more punishment they doled out. Once they tied me to the wooden bunk and the guard on duty let sixteen into the cell to do what they would with the new man. Some of the men ejaculated on me in contempt for my resistance. Eventually they broke me, and no longer do I fight them. I too am an animal.
Once I became one of them, life was more bearable. They have nicknamed me the Boa and I have a consistent partner at night. His name is Marcel. He is a Frenchman, only a year younger than myself. He was a political assassin, fair skinned and small in frame like a woman. He was ardent and gentle in his approach to sex, if always persistent. I was indeed fortunate to be mated in a cell with one such as this and not like so many of the brutes who were sadistic in their manipulations.
Marcel came to me every night. My clothes were off and I would be waiting for the gentle caressing of his tongue. He would start at my feet and work up my legs, inside my thighs to the tip of my testicles. There he would stop and prolong the sweet agony by starting at the top, chewing gently upon my ears and my lips, then letting his tongue trail over my neck and chest to the crest of each nipple spreading a wet sweet liquid fire all over my body. He would tantalize the nipples until they became reddened and sore, then he would move on to my stomach and my navel. There he would remain, tickling and tormenting, until I was lifting and squirming my hips, pleading with him to take me. But he would not. Ignoring my throbbing aching shaft, his tongue went to work on my scrotum, sucking each testicle into his mouth, savouring it before spitting it out. This drove me to the point of insanity, of course. I grabbed his ears and forced his head up slightly and I reared to him, generally poking him in the eye with my penis. He never took me before he was ready and only when I was at the frenzied point of an orgasm. Then he would open his mouth wide, take all of my head which had been impossible for most people. Pressing down, his teeth grazed over the full length of my shaft right down to the base, which meant he had to take it all the way down his throat. Nobody had ever accomplished this feat before, although God knows many had tried! Marcel held his breath as he moved his mouth up and down the length of my long shaft, almost swallowing it once in his excitement. Quickening his movements, he grasped the base of my rod between two fingers and pinched it gently, bringing me to quick, hot spurting climax. It was animalistic all the way, but I grew to accept it, and even welcome it each night as a delightful way to end a miserable day.
Alyse wrote to me often, assuring me of her undying love and great despair that I was not with her during her pregnancy. She told me she could feel the child beginning to kick at her belly and it give her untold joy to know it was my seed she carried in her body.
And then, on Conjugal Day, a few months after I had entered the prison, Alyse came to visit me. It was a joyous occasion, especially for the men who held life terms, for on this day alone we were permitted to remain in the same room with our women, each couple alone for an hour. Some of the wives brought their children, and there was much singing and shouting up and down the cell block. Here and there one could see a stark, passionate, shameless scene of frantic lovemaking as each man clung to his woman, trying to drain as much of her as possible to last until the next year. It was an impossible thing to accomplish, yet the prisoners tried to make up for lost time regardless of the futility of their act.
When the guard ushered Alyse into my cell I was struck speechless by her beauty. I had forgotten how tantalizing lovely she was and now, in her pregnant state, she seemed to glow as if all the lights of heaven hid just beneath her skin. Her lips were moist and full her long golden hair cascaded down her back to the edge of her buttocks, her eyes blazed with a strange sort of hidden fire. She had caused the greatest passion of life to course through my veins-she had caused me to know the depths of depravity, humiliation, despair-she had been the reason I had killed another man. But none of this mattered anymore. Just looking at her caused my heart to nearly burst from my chest. I wanted her-and I would have her on this day, with or without a bevy of strangers watching through the cell bars.
"Alyse," I murmured, my voice coming back to me. "God, but you are ravishing. Come to me quickly, my beloved!"
"My dearest love," she responded, her voice choking with emotion. She rushed into my arms, pressing her lovely contours against the length of me, clasping her arms about my neck and sealing her lips on mine with an urgent demand.
There was a wonderful feeling of belonging again-and I think we both recognized the wonderful grace of soul that we each knew existed in the other.
What a divine moment it was when her lips met mine, clinging with all the fever of denied love. She tasted so sweet, so warm and feminine. Her tongue probed the roof of my mouth, seeking out all the hidden spots that only she could know. I would have gladly killed ten men at that moment, just for one kiss from her sensual lips. There was so little for us to say, for we had been corresponding regularly through the mail. The only important thing at the moment was to cherish the closeness of each other, to treasure our wonderful feeling of togetherness.
Suddenly she pulled a little away from me and looked up into my eyes. A tear trickled down one cheek as she studied me intensely, trying to tell me with her eyes that she was as lonely as I.
"I understand that we are allowed to make love to one another on this day, Gregorio. Is that true?" She smiled, that lazy cat smile I would never forget.
"Yes, Alyse, it's true. But I would hate to ask you to give yourself to me under these horrible conditions. Everyone can see, and believe me, they look! No, my dear. You are carrying my child and it would not make me happy to demean you in front of strange eyes."
"Oh, but you must Gregorio! I have been so unhappy without you-my body cries out for the touch of yours-please, I am only yours. Take me, Gregorio, and fill me with your enormous weapon of love. It is the only tonic that my poor haunted soul cries out for." And so saying, she began to undo the buttons of her dress, slipping it over her shoulders and allowing it to drop to her hips.
She did not wear any underpinnings and her perfectly formed breasts sprang free immediately. Her nipples had darkened a shade, due to the child she was carrying, and they appeared even more kissable and delectable than before. Shrugging, she slowly let the dress slip past her hips, those rounded contours that sent chills up my spine. Now at her feet, she stepped out of the dress carefully and tossed it aside on the bunk. Clad only in a brief pair of lacy panties, a garter belt and silk stockings, she was the picture of the Love Goddess!
Her velvet textured skin cried out to be caressed. I knelt before her, tears welling up in my eyes, and pressed my lips to her belly. Then I placed my ear upon the spot where she pointed, trying to discern the sound of the new life inside her.
I could hear a faint heartbeat, I thought, but soon my discovery was forgotten as I slowly pulled her panties down, down past her hips, her thighs, he knees. I whispered a request for her to step out of them entirely. She did.
Pushing my face into her silky muff, I closed my eyes and allowed my tongue to explore the wet warm center of her being. I could feel her stiffen as my arms went around her legs and my tongue began to make its own kind of love to her. Quivering, she swayed from side to side, low animal moan escaping from between clenched teeth.
"Oh, my love. Stop! I beg of you, please stand up and take me in your arms."
I couldn't refuse. Quickly I got to my feet and pulled her into the comforting circle of my arms. She let her graceful head drop onto my shoulder for a moment, as if trying to pretend we were back in my house, in my bedroom, without a care in the world. Abruptly, she pushed me away from her and began to help me undress. I cast my prison attire into one corner of my cell and soon stood before her, naked and proud, as God had created me. Visiting wives and children and guards passed by the cell but somehow it did not matter. It was like the first night we were together. We were the only two people in the world
-everything and everyone else was shut out!
Alyse took my penis in her hand, then knelt to kiss it adoringly. Working her hands and lips simultaneously, she soon brought me to a fevered pitch of readiness, my tool throbbing beyond all control in her dainty hands. When she got to her feet again, we rushed together heatedly and passionately. We were one-alone she was nothing
-alone I was nothing-but together we were complete.
My tool pushed apart the lips of her vagina and we were quickly united, locked together in a love that was dark, wicked and beautiful. No matter what the world thought of us, we felt ourselves to be divine. I looked deep into her eyes, searching out all the mysterious and marvelous charms that hid therein and, as her hips began a slow, agonizing rotation, my lips covered hers.
This was forever. We did not dare move, or cross to my bunk or do anything that might break the spell. We just stood there, locked together, in the center of my tiny cell, fornicating on our feet, our arms wrapped around each other.
As the heat of our collective passion began to rise, I backed her up until she was resting against the bars of my cell. At one point I got so carried away that I pounded into her brutally, causing her, I am sure, great pain and suffering. But Alyse said nothing, only pulled me closer into her warmth, her soothing warmth. She knew, as did I, that this pleasure and ecstasy would have to last for a long, long time. I did not know it would have to last forever!
Our timing was perfect, as in the old days, and we exploded together in a thousand sparks, a thousands sighs, the lovely shock diminishing gradually. Our bodies had been made in heaven for each other, they would probably meet in hell to fulfill their destiny. How bitter it was to separate them in life.
Our breath coming in short, jagged gasps, we sat on my bunk and allowed the delicious afterglow to bathe us in its brilliance. Then, it was time for her to go. It had passed so quickly, the day, that I felt deprived, frustrated. There was so much I wanted to say to her, so much I wanted to give to her. Before she left, however, she promised to write every day and return with the baby as soon as it was born.
This promise, then, is what helped me stay alive during the next few months. Although Alyse was lax in her letter writing, I look forward to the day I would hold my son in my arms.
I never saw Alyse again. One day I received a letter from her telling me that we had a son, a beautiful handsome son who looked exactly like me.
"He is so much like you, my dearest" she wrote, it is as if you have been reborn and returned to me ... and I believe in truth you have. I will devote my life to our son, protect him and make sure he has a happy existence. He is important. I am not. That is why I am going to do what I must to insure his future. After I have explained to you, I know you will understand, my dearest. I will never love another man in this world. You were the only one who could ever satisfy me emotionally. You know that and therefore you must realize that no man could replace you. It is only for our son's sake that I am going to marry Lord Perceval Chalfont, who has a new political post in America. We will be living in Washington. For the sake of appearances he has asked me to marry him and for this he will give our son his name and wealth."
I ceased reading her letter for a moment, crushed and stupefied. The emptiness of my broken, wasted life; all wrecked and tearful, appeared to me, the field bare, the harvest reaped without any hope of return, and all for the love of a woman who had escaped from me.
"Do not imagine," I read on in her letter, "that I have fallen in love, or that I am seeking an easy life of luxury. All is over for me, as it is for you. My heart is dead, except for your memory. Without this boy I could not exist.
I have loved you too much, my darling. I am exhausted. I live only for the day we are both free and rejoined in another world. Good bye, my only love. You will never be out of my thoughts. All my love, all my life, Alyse."
It was the final destruction knowing that Alyse would be the wife of another man and that my son would be raised as his with the name of Chalfont. There was nothing left for me now but to await death.
As I sit here in the small confines of this prison, I am still waiting, trying very hard not to hate Alyse Woodwin with all my heart and soul.
