Ivy League Sluts	Back to A	Back to main page

Collected by Djian
updated dec 12 2007

Another HarryBerg story | MOB Movies

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |
Ivy League Sluts
by HarryBerg (HarryBerg01 (at) aol (dot) com)


Chapter 37 Mistress Scylla


“Mariposa’s, New England’s premier club for women who love women and only women, presents Mistress Scylla in her interpretation of Virgin Blood,” announced the DJ.
“I’ve heard of Mistress Scylla. She’s a performance artist,” said Portia looking eagerly toward the small stage where a bright spotlight illuminated a closed curtain.
Part of the crowd had gathered in front of the stage when the curtain opened to reveal a truly bizarre sight.
A stunningly beautiful young girl was suspended two feet above the stage floor leaning forward at an angle. Her position reminded Stacy of a bowsprit on an old sailing ship. Long golden blonde hair cascaded in ringlets down to the top of her small breasts. Her skin was white as alabaster and she was completely nude except for the white nylon bands holding her in place. Her nipples had been darkened to appear as two-quarter size dots. Her sex was clean-shaven. Pedestals supported her feet causing her legs to separate in a wide V. Only the nylon bands kept her from falling forward. A collective ah arose from the crowd.
“She’s an angel,” said Natasha referring to the large outstretched white wings that seemed to sprout from the girl’s back.
“She looks like an angel, too. She seems very young,” said Portia.
“She also looks drugged,” said Stacy noting the vacuous stare and fully dilated pupils.
“Given what I’ve heard about Mistress Scylla’s performance art, it’s better for her she is,” said Portia.
“Why,” asked Esther?
“I suspect our angel is going to experience some very serious pain,” said Portia.
“You can see this sort of thing in Prague any day. A mistress whips a young girl while the women in the audience rip off their clothes and have sex with one another,” said Esther. “Often it’s a tourist they kidnap off the street.”
“Great way to spend your European vacation,” said Stacy. “Still, she looks so angelic and sweet.”
“She won’t look the same a half hour from now,” said Esther.
“Virgin Blood, probably a misnomer, I doubt she’s a virgin,” said Stacy.
“She might belong to one of those abstinence groups on campus. Virgins are an endangered but not extinct species,” said Portia.
“How would one of them wind up here,” asked Stacy?
“Perhaps, not by her choice. Look there’s Scylla,” said Portia. “I’ve never seen her in person but I’ve been to her WEB site. Not exactly, the all American girl type.”
Applause erupted as an exotic looking fortyish female dressed in an extremely tight fitting scarlet red business suit arrived on stage. Her hair was pulled back in a bun tied with a matching scarlet ribbon. The tight skirt was long but slit high on both sides.
Mistress Scylla could use a nose job thought Stacy noting the large and hooked proboscis dominating the woman’s severe face.
Walking behind Mistress Scylla was a younger woman carrying an armful of long stem roses. She was dressed in a tailored suit that matched her Mistress’s. Mistress Scylla bowed acknowledging the crowd’s prolonged applause.
“What’s that between the angel’s legs,” whispered Stacy to Portia?
“God damn, this is really over the top,” said Portia recognizing the odd looking apparatus positioned between the angel’s legs. It’s construction of clear Plexiglas made it difficult to see.
“What is it,” asked Natasha her excitement growing. “The top part is in her vagina.”
“It’s called a Cherry Popper, or a Cherry Smasher. In the Texas border towns, they’re called Pussy Augers. You can buy one on the Internet but they’re illegal in most states,” said Portia using a pair of recently purchased Zweiss opera glasses to look at the stage. She found them during her last visit to the Goodwill store. It was her answer to having to compete with Stacy’s remarkable eyesight. Stacy could see far better than a person with normal vision.
“Holy shit, it’ll rip her apart,” said Stacy. “The dildo is covered with spines.”
“They must be latex. They’ll hurt like hell and scrape her raw but they won’t kill her. I don’t think even Mistress Scylla can get away with murder in front of a crowd,” said Portia.
“The Nazis used dildos like that on Russian girls during the war. The Germans captured my Grandmother during the siege of Leningrad. She said they stuck horrible sharp things in her vagina to make it bleed before they raped her,” said Natasha. “Simple rape was not good enough for the Wermacht. Their victims had to be in agony.”
On stage, Mistress Scylla had donned a pair of scarlet leather gloves and taken a bundle of roses from her assistant. The roses were taped together at the base in groups of four or five. The Angel watched uncomprehending as Mistress Scylla took a position slightly to her side then brought her arm back. She hesitated a moment before bringing her arm and the roses forward in an arc pivoting on her front foot to bring the weight of her upper body behind the blow.
The sound of the rose stems impacting on bare flesh filled the club. A shower of rose pedals flew in the air before fluttering to the stage floor. The angel opened her mouth and a loud scream of agony filled the club. Instantly, drops of blood appeared on the angel’s breasts where the thorns had punctured her soft flesh.
“Jesus, that must have hurt,” said Portia watching the Angel writhe in agony.
Without thinking, Stacy rose slightly to raise her skirt up to her waist. Her fingers found her sex and she began to masturbate. Around her, others licked their fingers and applied them to their sex driven by the erotic impact of Mistress Scylla’s performance art.
“Masturbating during her performances is considered cool,” said Portia. Her skirt was already at her waist as she removed a squeeze bottle of warming jell from her purse. She covered her fingers in the oily substance then handed the bottle to Stacy.
“Everyone is getting off,” said Stacy squirting the viscous liquid on her fingers before applying it to her sex.
“Me too,” said Esther taking the bottle from Stacy.
“Scoot close together. Then we can touch each other,” said Natasha her bare hips pressing against Portia and Stacy.
On stage the shower of rose petals punctuated by loud screams continued as the girl strained against her bonds causing the enormous white wings to shake violently.
“This is so fucking hot,” said Stacy squeezing her exposed nipples with her fingers as she energetically massaged her clit with her other hand.
It was an amazingly brutal work of performance art whose violence was accentuated by the Angel’s high-pitched screams that seemed to be wrenched from the very soul of the young girl. Mistress Scylla’s face became covered with tiny drops of blood. And members of the audience at the edge of the stage stuck their tongues out to participate in the blood feast.
This is fucking incredible thought Stacy looking around the club where hundreds of females were intently watching the stage as they masturbated. The bartenders had ceased making drinks. Many of the patrons had inserted longneck beer bottles in their vaginas when Mistress Scylla appeared. With eyes laser focused on the stage, they were fucking themselves with the bottles as their forked fingers stroked their clitoris.
“It’s considered cool to orgasm at the finale,” said Esther.
The finale came soon enough. The Angel’s chest was covered in blood. Gravity had drawn the crimson liquid in streams down to her pubic region. Stacy was forced to admit there was a certain artistic quality to the bloody angel. Her screams had grown hoarse and weak by the time the assistant handed Mistress Scylla the last of the roses.
Once those were used up, Mistress Scylla stepped aside to present her result. The Angel’s head was leaning forward in a faint. Applause was light.
“You can’t clap and masturbate at the same time,” observed Portia.
The DJ queued a drum roll as Mistress Scylla took a position with her hand poised over the red button on the side of the Texas Auger. When the music ceased, she pressed the button. There was an immediate hum as the spine-covered dildo began to spin then move slowly upward.
“It spins,” said Stacy feeling incredibly excited at the performance. She accepted the onset of the orgasm she had been putting off for the last few minutes.
“What a way to lose your cherry,” said Portia focusing her energy on controlling her orgasm. She wanted it to last until the performance was done.
Instantly, the Angel came awake with a start as the dildo penetrated her opening. Her pain and suffering showed on her tear stained face as the tough spines reached her hymen and shredded it. Her body trembled violently as the sharp spines bit into the lining of her vagina.
Stacy focused her eyes on the dildo as it entered the Angel. Blood splattered the top of the machine.
“Fuck her to death,” screamed one of the onlookers as the dildo moved upward to reach the Angel’s cervix.
“Make her ovaries drop out her cunt,” cried an even more bloodthirsty patron.
Slowly the blood smeared dildo descended. Once, free of the Angel’s flesh, Mistress Scylla pushed a switch reversing the direction of the spin.
Once again, the dildo rose and entered the Angel bringing about another burst of loud cries of agony that carried throughout the club.
Around Stacy, women writhed in orgasm. The machine halted after the second penetration. The Angel had fainted. Mistress Scylla removed a small catch glass from the base of the Texas Pussy Auger. It contained the Angel’s blood drawn by gravity into a crystal goblet.
“The blood of virgins is said to have restorative powers,” said Natasha watching intently as Mistress Scylla raised the glass to her lips and drank.
Immediately the curtain closed leaving Mistress Scylla alone on the stage. The patrons stood up and clapped wildly. Mistress Scylla smiled through blood stained teeth at her audience.
The DJ inserted a CD and selected a cut containing the hottest dance tune making the club circuit at the time. But few women took to the dance floor as the crowd incredibly turned on by the performance reached for the nearest warm body. Stacy found herself in a pile of near naked females having sex with whomever she encountered.

***

It was three AM when a totally fucked out Stacy and the others left the club for the short walk back to the parking garage. Dancing and uninhibited sex had counteracted the alcohol and drugs. Stacy and Esther were holding hands as they walked. The street was empty. They were passing the alley that ran alongside the club when Stacy heard the almost inaudible sound of a girl softly sobbing and the voices of several men.
Stacy signaled the others to be silent as she listened.
“This is our lucky day, Ray,” said a male voice. “She ain’t a bad piece. Maybe we should take her back to our place and keep her for a few days.”
“Shit, nothing in her purse but a couple of twenties,” said a different male voice.
“Please take it and leave me alone,” said the girl her voice betraying her fear and misery.
“We’re not finished with you. We’ve only fucked you once,” said a third male voice. “We always do little bitches like you twice, maybe three times if you’re lucky.”
“She’s a pretty thing, Stan, even if she’s a little bloody,” said Ray. “Somebody must have been working on her tits with an ice pick.”
“Bloody or not, I’m going to drop another load in her twat,” said Stan.
“No,” screamed the girl in a voice Stacy recognized. The distinct sounds of brutal rape followed immediately.
“I’m going to help her,” said Stacy reaching into her purse for a can of pepper spray and a small flashlight. She walked quickly into the dark alley.
“Got your back,” said Portia following with her flashlight and a metal baton that doubled in length when she pressed a button on the side.
“What the hell,” said Natasha pushing Esther ahead of her as they followed the other two.
The scene greeting Stacy was what she expected. The Angel was lying on top of a pile of green garbage bags behind the rear entrance to Mariposa’s. Her skirt was gathered at her waist. They’d pushed her sweater and bra up to expose her badly punctured breasts. Her lace panty was lying in the curb’s trickle of filthy water. A man was on top of her cradling her legs. His pants were down at his ankles.
“She’s still tight as a tick,” said the man as he brutally pounded his cock into her vagina.
The Angel was loudly sobbing in pain and humiliation as the man thrust in her. Two other men were watching their friend enjoy himself. Both were stroking their exposed cock eager to take their turn raping the Angel.
“Leave her alone, you bastards,” said Stacy in her most commanding voice.
“Hey, look what we have here. Come to join the party,” said Ray once he got over the shock of being confronted by four very attractive females. “What do you think, Earl? I fancy the blonde with the big titties.”
“Get the fuck out of here, creeps, and we won’t hurt you,” said Natasha.
“Where you from, slut, not from around here,” said Earl advancing in Natasha’s direction.
Stacy raised the can of pepper spray and pressed the button filling Earl’s eyes with the caustic substance. He immediately fell to the ground screaming and rubbing his eyes.
“Fix you, bitch,” said Ray quickly stepping toward Stacy his hands up to block the spray. That gave Portia an opening for a blow to the midsection with her baton. Ray fell to his knees desperately trying to deal with the pain he felt in his ribs.
Portia’s second blow to the back of Ray’s neck sent him semi-conscious to the dirty pavement. Stan had reluctantly ceased his rape of the Angel to help his friends. But as he got to his feet, Natasha stepped forward to land her fist on the point of his chin. Esther joined her co-worker landing a hard right to the jaw followed by a combination to his rib cage. A helpless Stan staged back against the wall unable to block a series of powerful punches coming from two directions.
“Don’t kill him,” said Stacy watching the two pummel Stan unmercifully. She was amazed at the force of their blows. They were almost lifting him off the ground.
“We won’t,” said Esther halting as Stan slumped to his knees then toppled forward face forward onto the pavement. His forehead made a sickening thud as it landed.
“Can you walk?” asked Portia kneeling beside Angel.
“I think so,” said Angel extending her arm allowing Portia to help raise her to standing.
“Let’s go,” said Stacy pulling the Angel’s sweater down over her breasts.
“Not quite, these three need to pay for what’s they did to her,” said Esther placing the toe of her shoe on one of Stan’s testicles and pressing down with all her weight. A loud scream filled the night.
“Rape is not nice,” said Natasha slowly grinding Ray’s testicles into the dirty pavement with the pointed toe of her strap scandals. Ray opened his mouth to scream them fainted. “If we were in Russia, I would cut them off and make him eat them.”
“Your turn,” said Esther kicking Earl in the ribs causing him to roll over. Esther reached down and grabbed his sizeable manhood in one hand pulling it straight up with all her strength.
“Don’t hurt me,” begged Earl. “We were just having some fun with her.”
“That’s exactly what we are having with you,” said Esther placing the tip of her spiked heel against Earl’s ball then pressing down. The strength of Earl’s scream caused Stacy to worry they would soon be drawing a crowd.
“Let’s go before the police arrive,” said Stacy taking Angel by her other hand and starting back toward the entrance to the alley.
“Just one more,” said Natasha stepping to between Earl’s outstretched legs. Taking aim, she slammed her spiked heel through his other testicle. Earl had mercifully fainted and only a loud groan escaped his lips.
“Are all Israeli women trained to fight,” asked Stacy as they entered the parking garage?
“Three years in the army, I was a martial arts instructor,” said Natasha.
“Military service is required regardless of sex. Only religious students are exempted,” said Esther. “Women are taught martial arts and self defense. You can’t rape an Israeli female unless you have a gun.”
“What are we going to do with her,” asked Natasha referring to the Angel. They had made it to Stacy’s car. Natasha and Portia were in the back seat holding the girl.
“Take her back to our place and check her over. If she’s badly hurt, take her to the ER. If she’s not, we have a doctor friend who will examine her,” said Portia.
“You slut, any excuse to give Doctor Myers a piece of tail,” said Stacy smiling to herself in the dark car.

***

“I really appreciate what you did. They might have killed me if you hadn’t come along,” said Catherine AKA Angel taking a sip of Chai tea. The painkillers Doctor Myers had given her had taken effect and she was anxious to describe what happened.
“We’re glad we could help. But I just wish we got there sooner before they raped you the first time,” said Stacy.
“Tell us everything, Catherine. I’ll take notes. Start from the beginning,” said Portia opening a document file on her notebook’s word processor. It was late Monday afternoon. She, along with Stacy and the Angel were seated in the living room enjoying a cup of tea. Esther and Natasha had left shortly before to get ready for an evening flight to Tel Aviv. The foursome had agreed to get together soon.
Doctor Myers had examined the Angel and declared her bruised and abraded but basically sound. His tight schedule had precluded immediate payment but he had promised to bring a friend the following Thursday when he had a rare afternoon off.
“Bring two friends and we’ll do a group thing,” said Stacy as she showed Doctor Myers to the door. “Portia and I’ll make a point of being super horny.”
“Will do,” said Doctor Myers. “There’s a new intern whose endowment is reputed to be spectacular by several of the nurses and all of the candy strippers.”
“Sounds exciting,” said Stacy rubbing the impressive bulge in the Doctor’s scrubs before she closed the door.
“I’m a freshman at Boston College majoring in finance. My name is Catherine Doucette. I’m from Baltimore,” said Catherine halting to take another sip of her tea.
“Forgive me for asking, but are or were you a virgin,” asked Portia?
“Yes, I was until last night when those three men raped me in the alley. I was virgo intactus and had a sturdy hymen to prove it. I come from a very religious Catholic family. My brother is a priest. My oldest sister is a nun at a convent in St. Louis. My parents were very strict and I was not allowed to date.”
“You seem to have come through what must have been a nightmare experience without being traumatized to the degree one would have thought,” said Stacy surprised Catherine was not totally freaked out by what had happened.
“I have almost no recollection of what happened. Maybe I’ll freak out when things start to come back to me if they ever do.”
“You were drugged. I was also the victim of an extended rape while under the influence of a powerful cocktail of narcotics intended to block my recall. My memories are like still photos,” said Stacy.
“Thank God I won’t get pregnant. It was thoughtful of Doctor Myers to give me the Plan B drug. My parents would die if they knew I took Plan B. My mom is very opposed to abortion in all forms.”
“The last thing you need is to have one of those goon’s babies,” said Portia. “They didn’t look or act that smart.”
“I know but my dad and mom are both active in the anti-abortion movement. Do I owe you anything for Doctor Myers’s visit or the drugs? He also gave me a shot, some pain pills, and ointment for the cuts on my breasts. The stuff he put inside my vagina is helping a lot.”
“It’s all taken care of,” said Stacy. “We have a mutual arrangement with the good doctor, sex for medical care.”
“You kidding. You don’t really mean to say you engage in sexual intercourse to pay for his services? That would be like prostitution,” said Catherine.
“We find it to be a mutually beneficial arrangement. The doctor is quite the swordsman and his intern friends are excellent bed buddies. Besides, my parents always wanted me to sleep with a doctor,” said Portia.
“They want you to marry a doctor, Portia, not screw one,” said Stacy.
“You girls are wild,” said a blushing Catherine. “I’ve never met anyone like you two.”
“Do you have any idea what happened last night,” asked Portia?
“I remember going to my advisor’s house for dinner at six o’clock. It’s part of a monthly mentoring program set up by the college for freshman”
“Who is your advisor?” asked Stacy?
“Professor Stanhope, the school assigned her as my mentor. She’s also the faculty advisor for our abstinence club.”
“So you believe in abstinence,” asked Portia while giving Stacy a knowing look.
“I was President of Not Me Now my senior year as Bishop Xavier’s High School. I joined the BC chapter as soon as I arrived on campus.”
“So this Professor Stanhope would know of your virginity,” asked Portia?
“Yes, she asked me when I first joined. You don’t need to be a virgin to join the chapter. You only need to promise that in the future you’ll practice abstinence until you’re married.”
“Understood. But Professor Stanhope knew you were the real deal so to speak,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, she even asked if I still had my hymen. No one had ever asked that before.”
“Interesting,” said Portia typing away.
“I want to be open with you two since you saved me from those men in the alley, I feel I can trust you.”
“What you tell us will not go beyond this room, we promise,” said Portia.
“Lately, I’ve had my doubts about abstinence. I’ve been dating this wonderful man, Seth Profit. He’s on the basketball team. I think I’m in love with him.”
“And he’s pressuring you to have sex,” asked Stacy?
“No, not at all, but I can tell he wants to and frankly so do I,” said Catherine.
“How far have you and Seth gone?” asked Portia?
“I’ve been learning to pleasure him orally. He’s been very gentle and patient with me. I was terrible at it when we first started but Seth says I’ve come a long way. He says I’m as good as any girl he’s ever had.”
“You should be proud of yourself. Do you enjoy it,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, but I l know its immoral and against God’s law.”
“Not in my opinion, I love oral sex,” said Stacy.
“And so do I. There is no place in the Bible where it says thou shall not suck cock. But what does Seth do for you sexually,” asked Portia?
“We kiss. He’s offered to perform orally on me but I told him no.”
“Why,” asked Stacy amazed that any woman would turn down an offer of head from a lover?
“Honestly, I’m afraid I’ll lose control. The last time we made out and I did him with my mouth I wanted him to take me. I was ready for Seth to rip my clothes off and do me right there on the floor of his dorm room. If my cell phone hadn’t interrupted us, my Seth would have been the one to deflowered me, not those horrible men in the alley.”
“Did you inform Professor Stanhope of your weakening resolve,” asked Portia?
“Yes, she seemed very concerned and even a little upset with me. She even suggested I stop seeing Seth. I was a little hurt by her attitude,” said Catherine taking a tissue out of the box and dabbing her eyes.
“Let’s talk about Professor Stanhope. What’s her first name?” asked Portia launching a search engine on her laptop.
“Verna, Professor Verna Stanhope, she’s been terribly nice to me. She’s gone out of her way to help me adjust to being away from home for the first time. I miss my family,” said Catherine looking thoughtful and a little sad.
“Who else was at dinner?” asked Stacy as Portia typed in the full name and initiated a search.
“No one, Kelly Warren was supposed to be there but she cancelled at the last minute. Verna said Kelly had a bug and couldn’t make it. So it was just Professor Stanhope and I. The Professor’s not married.”
“You ate dinner,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, the Professor is a gourmet cook. We had wild caught Chinook salmon with jasmine rice and Swiss chard. It was delicious.”
“Alcohol,” asked Stacy?
“Wine, normally, I’m not much of a drinker but I had two glasses at dinner. Verna explained it was a pinot gris that went especially well with dinner.”
“What do you recall after dinner,” asked Stacy?
Catherine furrowed her brow before speaking. “We went into her study for dessert and coffee but first we had a third glass of wine just to finish the bottle. I recall setting on the couch talking about my classes. I was eating a piece of heavenly chocolate ricotta flan the Professor had made from scratch. I wish I could cook like her. I’m having terrible trouble with Statistics 101. I may fail. Math was never my thing.”
“What happened next,’ asked Portia?
“Then it all goes blank,” said Catherine starting to cry. “Do you think I should tell Seth I was raped? He may dump me if he finds out.”
“You’re safe now. I’d wait a while before I told Seth about last night. Just tell him you had too much to drink and slept on Professor Stanhope’s couch,” said Stacy taking a sobbing Catherine in her arms. Stacy wasn’t sure whether Catherine was crying over her statistics’ grades or being raped or the possibility of Seth finding out.
The conversation ceased for a while. Portia fixed a fresh pot of tea. When she returned from the kitchen, Catherine had regained her composure.
“Do you feel well enough to continue,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, talking about it may help me to remember,” said Catherine.
“You blank out in Professor Stanhope’s study. What is your next memory,” asked Portia?
“I woke up in this small dressing room lying on this smelly cot. I could hear loud music coming from somewhere. Someone had undressed me. I was stark naked. My chest hurt terribly and it was covered in dried blood from hundreds of tiny cuts. When I put my hand between my legs, there was more blood. My vagina hurt like crazy. I tried to get up but I couldn’t move a muscle. Then I heard a noise so I shut my eyes and pretended to be unconscious. This young girl came in with a wet rag and wiped all the blood off me.”
“Continue,” said Portia rapidly typing Catherine’s account into her laptop.
“I passed out again but I regained consciousness when I heard this older woman come in with a foreign looking man. I was so embarrassed being nude in front of complete strangers. All I could do was lay there with my eyes closed pretending to be asleep.”
“What did the woman look like?” asked Stacy?
“Garish, bizarre, she had on a ton of make up and was wearing a red suit. For some reason, she reminded me of Professor Stanhope but it wasn’t her,” said Catherine. “They were talking about me.”
“What were they saying,” asked Portia?
“I’m not sure. It was about money. The man said I would have been worth more if I still had my hymen. And this was where it really got awful.”
“What happened,” asked Stacy?
He stuck his fingers in my vagina. He was furious when he couldn’t feel a hymen. He and the woman argued. I was terribly confused since I had one before I went to the Professor’s. I thought the man had made a mistake; because my gynecologist told me I had an abnormally thick hymen and it might be best to remove it surgically before I decided to have intercourse. She said it was rare but it did happen. She even had a scientific name for it but I can’t remember it.”
“Trust me. Your hymen is history. Were specific dollar amounts mentioned,” asked Stacy recalling the moment the Texas Pussy Auger drilled through Catherine’s cherry?
“Fifty thousand dollars is one amount I recall. The man spoke with a heavy accent. He looked like he was from the Middle East. Now I remember. He said the Emir would have easily paid two hundred thousand if I was a proven virgin.”
“The woman said she knew of a doctor who would restore my hymen,” said Catherine. “And the man said he would never lie to the Emir. It would mean a horrible death if he ever found out. I recall him saying the last servant the Emir caught in a lie was flayed alive and tied to an anthill in the desert. What does it mean to be flayed alive?”
“Remove the skin as in skin a rabbit. In the Middle East, they used hot knives with a curved blade to peel off the flesh,” said Portia.
“That’s barbaric. And you can live through this,” asked Catherine?
“You could live for days until infection sets in. It’s a traditional form of punishment. The bloody flesh attracts the ants and without the flesh to protect you it’s painful to the max. It’s a hideous way to die,” said Portia.
“My God they were going to sell me to this Emir who does that sort of thing to people. But I don’t understand. I am a virgin or at least I was until those men in the alley raped me. I still had my hymen. I’m so confused.”
“You lost your hymen earlier,” said Stacy. “We watched it happen.”
“You watched. What were you doing?”
“Group masturbation,” said Stacy.
“We’ll explain everything before we’re done. It’s not uncommon in the third world where girls are expected to be virgins on their wedding night for surgeons to restore the hymen. It’s a simple enough operation. Often the girl is a virgin but had lost the membrane in any number of ways. Grooms in those cultures are expected to proudly display blood stained sheets the morning after their wedding night. A girl without a hymen no matter how innocent is sometimes declared a whore and murdered,” said Portia.
“You’re very smart, Portia, and you too, Stacy. I wish I was smart then this wouldn’t have happened to me,” said Catherine misting up again.
“Portia is brilliant. Few are her equal including me,” said Stacy once more wrapping her arm around Catherine. “Tell us what happened next?”
“I passed out again. When I woke up, I was still in the same room but I was alone. I threw up in a trashcan but afterwards I felt better and was able to stand. The clothes I’d worn to Professor Stanhope’s were on the floor along with my purse. Somehow I managed to get dressed although I kept loosing my balance and almost falling down. It was like my equilibrium was all screwed up.”
“Rohypnol has that effect,” said Portia.
“When I tried to open the door it was locked. But there was a small window I could open. Thank God it wasn’t too high. I remember crawling over the transom. The next thing I remember was the rape. Then I recall you and your friends arriving to save me,” said Catherine. “I’m ever so grateful.”
“What do you recall about the rape,” asked Portia?
“Not that much, I was in and out of consciousness. I remember waking up in an alley with this man on top of me. His breath stank of beer and cigarettes. I hate smokers. His penis was inside my vagina. It was horrible. Mother always said intercourse was painful for her and I must be like her. I thought I would go out of my mind with pain the first time he put his thing in me.”
“The reason it hurt so badly was because of what happened at Mariposa’s,” said Portia. “Once the lining of your vagina heals, you should feel considerable pleasure from having Seth’s cock inside.”
“I hope you’re right. I want to please him,” said Catherine looking determined.
“Professor Stanhope is a full professor at Boston College.” Portia spoke as she scanned the Professor’s WEB biography. “She’s published several books in the field of abnormal psychology.”
“You keep mentioning Mariposa’s, what’s that,” asked Catherine?
“A lesbian nightclub, we found you in the alley behind the building,” said Portia.
“I’ve never heard of it,” said Catherine. “We have lesbians at BC but I don’t know any of them.”
“You don’t recall being on stage at a lesbian nightclub engaged in a sado-masochistic piece of performance art,” asked Stacy surprised at Catherine’s lack of memory of what was a memorable event?’
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Catherine.
Stacy and Portia spent the next few minutes describing Catherine’s participation in Mistress Scylla’s performance art. Catherine asked a few questions but mainly listened as the girls tried to make her understand what had happened to her.
Catherine was silent for a while before she spoke. “What’s commando night?”
“Basically it means going without underpants. British Commandos began the practice during World War II. Navy Seals later adopted it,” said Portia.
“You must be lesbians, too,” said Catherine looking slightly upset.
“No, we’re bisexual,” said Stacy.
“But you have sex with other girls,” said Catherine.
“Yes, and boys,” said Portia.
“What about your friends, Esther and Natasha” asked Catherine?
“Esther is definitely a lipstick lesbian but she was married,” said Stacy. “Did you get a sense of Natasha’s gender preference, Portia?”
“Pole or hole, both good in Natasha’s world view,” said Portia. “She’s bisexual.”
“This is a lot for me to process,” said Catherine.
“I can imagine. Let’s take a break and fix a salad and open a bottle of wine,” said Stacy getting up to walk toward the kitchen.
The three were seated on stools around the kitchen island when Catherine returned to the matter at hand.
“Can one of you summarize what happened to me,” asked Catherine?
“Go, Portia,” said Stacy forking a piece of romaine into her mouth.
“Professor Stanhope invited you to her home with the intention of drugging and kidnapping you. The Professor has a connection to Mistress Scylla, the performance artist. Once you were unconscious, they transported you to Mariposa’s where Mistress Scylla made you the centerpiece of her performance art. Check out her WEB site when you get a chance.”
“My God, what did she do to me,” asked Catherine?
‘”She and her assistant stripped you naked and suspended you on stage before several hundred onlookers who were for the most part lesbians with a smattering of bisexuals. While her audience masturbated, she whipped your breasts with long stem roses. Then she used a mechanical device caused a Texas Pussy Auger to remove your hymen. For a finale, she drank your virgin blood.”
“That’s sick,” said Catherine.
“But very erotic to the onlookers,” said Stacy.
“Afterwards, she planned to sell you into sexual slavery to some unknown Middle Eastern Emir. You would have wound up in his harem only having occasional sex and being bitchy as a result. Following me so far?”
“Yes, it all fits. I just can’t believe Professor Stanhope would do such a thing,” said Catherine.
“Keep in mind, money was involved. Fifth thousand is not a fortune but it can buy you a new Lexus. Continuing. You woke up to an argument you were damaged goods with a lower price. Obviously, Mistress Scylla was not supposed to use the Texas Pussy Auger to take your virginity,” said Portia looking at her notes as she spoke.
“I can’t believe I lost my virginity to a machine,” said Catherine.
“Given the impenetrable nature of your barrier, it may prove fortunate. Suppose Seth had been unsuccessful in his attempt to get inside you, it might have ruined your relationship. Men don’t take failures like that lightly,” said Stacy.
“I suppose it could be for the best,” said Catherine.
“By sheer luck, you managed to escape your captors only to blunder into a trio of miscreants who frequent the alleys around Harvard Square seeking to prey on the weak and inebriated. They had already raped you once when Stacy heard you pleading with your rapists. Brave Stacy rushed into the alley armed with pepper spray. I followed with my trusty police baton. Esther and Natasha, both veterans of Israeli army combat training guarded our rear. We quickly subdued your three attackers. Our Israelis demonstrated their skill at stomping their spiked heels through male testicles. Thereby punishing them severely for having violated you. Street justice was done. No need to involve the authorities.”
“I’d never go to the police,” said Catherine.
“Stacy and I more or less carried you to the car. We brought you here, cleaned you up and put you to bed. Next, we summoned Doctor Myers to tell us whether we should rush you to the ER which fortunately was not required.”
“I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you,” said Catherine. “Heaven knows what would have happened to me if you hadn’t come along. You two are my guardian angels.”
“Become a lesbian for a start,” said Stacy. “Sorry, I was just kidding,” said Stacy noting the distressed look for Catherine’s beautiful face.
“The immediate problem is Professor Stanhope and Mistress Scylla may come after you. While you can’t remember what happened, they don’t know that. You’re a threat to them,” said Portia.
“Do you know if any other students who belong to BC’s abstinence club have disappeared under mysterious circumstances,” asked Stacy?
“Brian Lassiter, but he’s a boy,” said Catherine after thinking for a while.
“Did you know him,” asked Portia?
“Barely, he was at our meetings in the fall. He never returned to BC after Thanksgiving break. His parents said he never arrived home. The police investigated but they didn’t talk to me.”
“What did he look like,” asked Stacy?
“Very handsome, almost too pretty for a man, he’d worked as a model in New York. But why would they be interested in a boy?”
“It is highly possible that as we speak, handsome Brian is on his hands and knees with this Emir’s cock buried in his ass,” said Portia.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Catherine. “So what do I do?”
“Return to BC. Resign from the club. Tell all your friends you’re sleeping with Seth and having great sex. Never allow yourself to be alone with Professor Stanhope and never ever eat or drink anything she prepared,” said Portia.
“Is it okay if I actually sleep with Seth,” asked Catherine.
“Definitely, climb on his pony and ride until he begs you to dismount,” said Stacy.
“I will, gladly,” said Catherine looking pleased with her decision.
“I’ll give you a can of pepper spray and show you how to use it. It’s illegal but highly effective as a defensive weapon,” said Stacy.
“Catherine, can you check your BC email from here,” asked Portia turning her laptop toward Catherine.
“Sure, its accessible via the Internet,” said Catherine.
Stacy put the dishes in the dishwasher while Catherine accessed her mail server and entered her login and password.
“Oh my God, there’s an email from Professor Stanhope,” said Catherine.
“I thought so. Let me see,” said Portia before reading the message. “Cathy, what happened to you last night? When I returned from the kitchen you’d disappeared. Let me know if you’re all right. I’m worried about you, Verna.”
“What do I do,” asked Catherine?
“Let me handle it,” said Portia. She typed for a while before reading back her reply. “I’m so sorry, Verna. Please forgive me. I have no idea what happened to me. I must have blanked out. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. I told you about my problems with Statistics. I woke up wandering the streets of Cambridge. I was lucky friends found me and took me in for the night. I’ll never drink another drop of alcohol as long as I live. It has a horrible effect on me. I am resigning from the abstinence club. I love Seth and he loves me. I intend to give myself to him and become the woman he deserves. Thanks for the wonderful dinner. It was delicious. Cathy.”
“Does that sound like an email you would write, Cathy,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, except I use a lot of those yellow circles when I email. You know the ones that state whether you’re happy or sad,” said Catherine.
“They’re called emoticons,” said Portia sliding the laptop toward Catherine. “Insert them where you would normally.”
After several minor changes, Portia clicked the Send button.
“One more thing, is there another member of the club who is as pretty and innocent as you are?” asked Stacy?
Catherine thought for a minute before she spoke. “Yes, there’s Kelly Warren. The student who was also supposed to have dinner at Professor Stanhope’s but cancelled. She makes me look plain. Kelly has the most beautiful eyes and hair and you wouldn’t believe her figure. She was Miss Florida. And she’s the sweetest nicest person you’d ever meet,” said Catherine.
“And abstinent,” asked Portia?
“She’s a born again evangelical and very devout. She carries her bible everywhere she goes. She told me she had only kissed two boys in her life and the next man to kiss her would be her husband.”
“Interesting, I have a plan to bring Mistress Scylla and Professor Stanhope to justice. Do you trust Portia and I enough to allow us to handle it?” asked Stacy?
“Yes, I don’t want to go to the police. I’ve seen what happens to other girls who report rape. It ruins their lives,” said Catherine.
“Good, I suggest you call Seth and tell him some friends are bringing you back to campus and you’d like to spend the night with him.”

***

“What’s your plan,” asked Portia? They were driving back from Chestnut Hill, the suburban home to the campus of Boston College. They just delivered Catherine to the arms of Seth.
“Lt. Mike Cabreeze is going to make a high profile bust of a white slavery ring with Middle Eastern connections. He’ll be a hero and get another citation.”
“I thought so. I can see the headline. Heroic Cambridge policeman saves innocent college students from sex slavery. It has the luridness needed for a great news story. I bet it makes national news. Can you get him to do it?”
“I think so. Do you think Catherine will be all right,” said Stacy.
“Yes, as long as she keeps her mouth shut,” said Portia.
“At the moment, I suspect her mouth is open with her lips wrapped about Seth’s penis,” said Stacy.
“She seemed eager enough when she saw him waiting for her in front of his dorm. He’s nice looking. I would bet our little Angel is going to have cock in her tonight, sore pussy be damned.”
“She’ll be like me and make up for lost time,” said Stacy.
“I doubt her appetite matches yours. What are you going to tell Cabreeze,” asked Portia?
“The truth, the absolute truth,” said Stacy.
“Yes, no need to lie. The truth will set you free,” said Portia.


Chapter 38 Charity Weekend

“The Lieutenant looked muy caliente at the press conference,” said Portia as Stacy turned on to Interstate 93 North for the drive to New Hampshire. “I TiVo-ed it so we could jerk off to it later.”
“And humble too, I loved the part where he insisted on sharing credit with the Boston and Chestnut Hill police and even the FBI. I’ve lost count of the number of times, he’s referred to them as those stupid Federal cocksuckers,” said Stacy. Stacy spoke in the voice she used to imitate Mike. “It was a team effort requiring intense coordination among the Commonwealth’s law enforcement agencies.”
“Your Cabreeze imitation continues to improve.”
“I wonder if the amount if time his dick spends in my throat is a factor,” said Stacy.
“Still, he plays the honest servant of the public so well you know he must be a crook,” said Portia.
“A crook who loves public adoration, there must be something insightful a good psychologist would say about that.”
“Cabreeze’s movie star handsome,” said Portia. “I can see why you like to do him.”
“The bastard forced his tailor to work up all night making him a new suit just for the press conference.”
“So how did it all go down as the cops on television say,” asked Portia?
“Mike and Lou backed up by the Commonwealth’s finest waited to the very last minute to drive out on the runway and block the plane. Making it a last minute rescue added to the media buzz,” said Stacy.
“Cops know how to play the press. Even if it did put Miss Kelly Warren’s cherry at risk,” said Portia.
“I can picture Mike and Lou driving their Crown Vic onto the runway at Hanscomb Field with gun’s blazing. Maybe you should write a book about the case and sell the movie rights.”
“That’s a thought. And was Miss Warren virtue intact?”
“I wasn’t able to stick my fingers in to check but Lou did. He told me whoever pops her cap will have a sore dick for a week,” said Stacy.
“You’re joking. He actually put his fingers in her pussy?”
“According to Lou, she was sprawled across the seat heavily sedated with her skirt up around her waist. The Emir’s man had already performed his own examination. She was lubricated and there was a speculum lying on the floor. Lou told me he had never felt a girl’s hymen before. He was just being curious,” said Stacy.
“And disgusting, so how much time will the Emir’s man get for kidnapping?”
“Nada, zip, none, he has diplomatic immunity. He works at the United Nations. He will be declared persona non grata and booted out of the country,” said Stacy frowning to express her dissatisfaction. “We should have figured out a way for Esther and Natasha to spear his testicles with a five inch heel. Justice was not served in his case.”
“Those tiny little countries in the gulf sit on a sea of oil and even the mighty US treads lightly where they’re concerned,” said Portia.
“Oil rules. It turns out the Emir in question is the ruler’s brother and therefore untouchable. However, Doctor Stanhope had confessed to kidnapping three other students from her abstinence group over the last two years, a major black eye for the college that caused the chancellor to worry aloud on television about the damage to future enrollment. Our government has requested their safe return,” said Stacy.
“And what will happen to the good doctor,” asked Portia?
“Kidnapping for purposes of sexual slavery involving transport to a foreign country is a serious Federal crime. She will probably get life as will her sister, Delores Hamilton, AKA Mistress Scylla. The two will undoubtedly be putting on special kind of performance art at Bridgewater State. I see serious rug munching in their future.”
“Amazing how the Professor’s nose job made her look different from her twin sister,” said Portia.
“Mike let me look at Professor Stanhope’s file. Over the years, she transformed her face with a half dozen operations. They were identical twins at birth,” said Stacy.
“So you are an unsung hero. Mike Cabreeze takes all the credit and gets his face on television. You get to service his cock,” said Portia.
“Sucking her hero’s dick is all the reward a good girl needs,” said Stacy.
“Our exit is next,” said Portia looking at the directions.
“Have you ever fucked for charity before,” asked Stacy slowing the car and moving to the right lane?
“When would I have done that? But the idea of letting men who I do not know stick their penises in my orifices for a good cause sounds most commendable,” said Portia. “I’ve been looking for a way to give back to the community for the many blessings I have received.”
“As opposed to just doing it because it feels good,” said Stacy.
“Didn’t Jesus say in the Sermon on the Mount, blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they shall be filled?”
“By righteousness, I don’t think he meant the erotic pleasure of having a male member inside your vagina,” said Stacy.
“The Bible is always subject to interpretation by the faithful. I intend to allow my righteous thirst for semen and hunger for hard cock keep me filled. There’s the exit sign. Next right.”

***


“Great Grandfather must be spinning in his grave,” said Traci Moynahan looking at herself in the mirror while she adjusted her push up bra to maximize her cleavage. She reached inside the cups to give her nipple a hard squeeze then noted with satisfaction the visible bumps made in her white cotton blouse.
Stacy, Portia, and Traci were hurriedly changing into the outfits Leslie provided when they arrived at Moynahan Castle. It was seven o’clock in the morning. First tee time was at eight. Everyone was supposed to be downstairs by seven thirty. Two girls would be assigned to each golf foursome. Their role according to Leslie Cabot’s carefully worded instructions was to drive the cart, carry the golf bag and perform sexually as requested.
“Will they expect sex on the golf course,” asked Stacy who had not previously considered the prospect of intercourse in the great outdoors? The idea of shagging in front of nature’s creatures was something she was going to have to get used to.
“The squirrels will be embarrassed,” said Portia making a second attempt to tie the striped silk tie.
“As will the chipmunks, we will be setting a bad example for Mother Nature,” said Stacy handing Portia her already knotted tie and taking Portia’s.
“You’ll get used to outdoor slamming. And don’t be upset when they go out of their way to talk dirty. Being able to call you a cock sucking whore is part of their fun,” said Traci.
“So this white trash, trailer slut, cock sucking whore can be expected to put out in front of God and everybody,” said Portia.
“Just enjoy it and make sure they do too. The men will take advantage of us every chance they get. Expect some kind of action any time there is a break. Given that there is always someone waiting for something in golf, it’s almost one continual screwing. Last year, I was driving the cart with one hand and jerking a guy off with the other,” said Traci responding to Stacy’s question about how much sex versus golf they could expect.
That’s not the shy overweight Traci Moynahan I recall from high school thought Stacy watching Traci press her breasts together and curl her tongue at the small mirror the three girls were sharing. Her breasts are larger and her lips are fuller plus she has a terrific body with sculptured abs. Cosmetic surgery and a personal trainer have been at work.
When Stacy and Portia arrived they found a completely naked Traci sitting on the side of the tub shaving her vulva before getting dressed for the golf outing.
“Sorry but I forgot to shave last night,” said Traci finishing up.
In high school Traci had been known for consuming several pints of premium ice cream then throwing up in a fruitless attempt to control her weight. Her dietary problems had reached the point her parents sent her off to a special clinic in Colorado.
Moynahan Castle was just as impressive as Stacy remembered, an enormous edifice of New Hampshire granite built on a promontory overlooking Lake Winnipesaukee. Stacy also noted it resembled a certain maximum-security penitentiary she had recently visited.
Not for the last time was Stacy impressed with Leslie Cabot’s organizational skills. Albert was standing at the front entrance when she and Portia arrived. She was surprised he remembered her name. Of course, she was unaware he repeatedly watched his video of her impaled on Ellis’s cock with her face buried between Leslie’s thighs noisily licking her sex.
After being introduced to Portia, he gave each girl a personalized folder containing detailed instructions for the weekend.
Ellis arrived out of breath. Attired in a tight fitting shirt and shorts that partially exposed his muscular buttocks, he brought back Stacy’s memories of the afternoon she’d spent straining to fit his oversized member into the orifices. She was a little surprised at his attire. It struck her a something a gay would wear.
It turned out he was working as the parking valet. He greeted Stacy warmly lifting her in a bear hug then cupping her buttocks in his huge hands and grinding his cock against her pubic mound.
“Miss me,” asked Ellis before planting a kiss on Stacy’s lips?
“Parts of you,” said Stacy wrapping her legs around his waist forcing her clit against his sex.
“You must be Portia. Come here and give me some love,” said Ellis releasing Stacy before delivering a similar hug to the Portia. The two kissed passionately while Stacy and Albert watched.
“Stacy told me all about you,” said Portia making a mental note that if at all possible, she was going to have sex with Ellis before the weekend was out.
“I said you were a stimulating conversationalist and a caring sensitive individual,” said Stacy.
“All that and more, wish I had time for a quick three-way but Leslie’s on the warpath,” said Ellis before rushing off with her car.
“Just looking at him makes me want to get down on my knees and beg to suck his mighty dick,” said Stacy having resisted the urge to place her hand on the large bulge in Ellis’s shorts.
“So that was supercock. Maybe I’ll get a chance to have my holes re-sized,” was Portia’s comment as Ellis drove away.
“Go for it. It’s painful but deeply satisfying,” said Stacy recalling how it felt to have her rectum expanded to the bursting point.
The information packet contained the schedule and instructions for the charity outing plus a tee shirt with the Women In Harm’s Way logo and today’s date silk-screened on the back.
Portia, Stacy, and Traci were assigned to Guest Suite 11 located on the second floor in the East Wing. An older woman named Carole who identified herself as the regional director of the charity showed them to their room. She thanked Stacy and Portia profusely for giving up their weekend to help a worthy cause then hurried off clipboard in hand.
The hallway and rooms were filled with half dressed girls who’d volunteered to serve as what Leslie euphemistically referred to as hostesses. Stacy could sense the energy and anticipation of the women as they purposefully prepared for a long day of sex.
Stacy and Portia quickly opened the box containing their first uniform. There were three dress boxes waiting in the room. Printed neatly on each were their name and the event: golf, paintball and banquet. Portia and Stacy had emailed their sizes to Leslie two weeks prior.
Traci had arrived a few minutes earlier. Although the two girls had not been close in high school, a naked Traci shaving lather partially covering her crotch rushed into Stacy’s arms and kissed her hard on the lips.
“I’m getting married in two months. Can you believe it?” squealed Traci while her arms were still around Stacy. Stacy was feeling warmth from the pressure of Traci’s breasts and sex pressed against her.
“Congratulations, that’s wonderful. Who is he?” asked Stacy surprised a bride within sixty days of her wedding was participating in what Leslie Cabot described as twenty four hours of non-stop sex for charity.
“You don’t know him. Roger Crawford, he’s on Senator Talbot’s staff. I’ve spent a fortune commuting to DC,” said Traci.
“I’d love to meet him,” said Stacy.
“You will at the wedding. The invitations went out last week. I sent yours to your address in Weston. And who is this?” said Traci looking at Portia.
“Oh sorry, this is my good friend, Portia. She’s a fellow student and we live together,” said Stacy introducing Portia.
“Welcome to Leslie Cabot’s weekend fuck-a-thon,” bubbled an enthusiastic Traci hugging Portia. “This maybe my last chances to act wild before I become a chaste married woman. I intend to take full advantage of it.”
“I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. It’s not often one gets to fuck one’s brains out for a good cause,” said Portia.
“It certainly beats those charity walk-a-thons that screw up the traffic and give you sore feet,” said Stacy.
“Leslie’s a genius. I’d rather fuck for breast cancer any day than walk ten miles for it,” said Portia.
“Something else besides your feet will get sore this weekend. We better hurry and get dressed. Mother Leslie likes to keep on schedule,” said Traci releasing Portia. Realizing they were running late, the two new arrivals quickly shed their clothes.
“Rings and tats that is just so cool. May I touch them?” asked Traci as soon as Portia undressed.
“Sure,” answered Portia widening her stance as Traci knelt down. Portia was beginning to feel more comfortable about the weekend. She had been apprehensive at the prospect of meeting Stacy’s wealthy friends. But she quickly realized every female there regardless of how rich was going to be fucked like a street whore who passed out in a crack house. She also realized from Traci’s fascination with her rings and tattoos she was something of an exotic.
“They’re so fucking cool. Did it hurt when you got them?” asked Traci examining the three rings in each labia and the smaller one above Portia’s clitoris. Portia was surprised the exam was more than visual. Traci’s fingers were all over her sex.
“They numbed my labia with ice but the one over my clit hurt like hell,” said Portia.
“I’ve never done it with a girl with rings in her pussy. If we get the chance, I’d like to give it a try,” said Traci planning a wet kiss on Portia’s clitoris.
“I’ll save you a spot on my fuck card,” said Portia obligingly rotating her legs to improve Traci’s access to her sex.
“Tempus fugit, you two,” said Stacy anxious not to be late. There wasn’t time for Portia and Traci to get it on. They had to be downstairs in twenty minutes.
Printed material inside the Golf Uniform box identified two stores on Newbury Street as having donated the blouses, skirts, and shoes. Business cards of two women who managed the fashionable boutiques were included along with an exhortation by Leslie Cabot to shop with supporters of Women In Harm’s Way.
“They must sell on commission,” said Portia looking at the cards as she folded over the waistband of the short plaid skirt. The scotch plaid was the signature design of an upscale ready to wear company. “How’s that? Showing enough ass?”
“Try one more fold. According to Leslie’s direction, the bottom of your cheeks should be even with the hem. Your butt needs to show when you bend over to pick up a golf ball,” said Stacy scanning Leslie’s instructions how the Golf Uniform should be worn. The directions even included a picture of one of the hostesses bending over at the waist showing her thong. Stacy was tying the tails of her white cotton blouse for the third time trying to get the right exposure for her white lace trimmed uplift bra. The unbuttoned blouse was to be tied snugly under the girl’s breasts exposing her mid rift. The skirt’s waistband rode low on Stacy’s hip bones an inch or so above her pubic region. The white bands of her thong appeared above the waistband. The finishing touch was a pair of white sox with saddle oxfords.
“Being here must bring back memories, Stacy,” asked Traci?
“I recall it was a beautiful day and Mr. Kendall got stung by a bee and couldn’t breathe. Mrs. Warner had to give him a shot or he would have died,” said Stacy adjusting her waistband then turning around and bending slightly over to make sure the lower half of her ass showed.
“Aren’t you forgetting Michael Kerwin deflowered you that balmy late spring afternoon? I thought a girl never forgets her first time,” said Traci.
“Michael Kerwin and I snogged enthusiastically and I let him put his hand in my bra and touch my boobs. Then he unzipped his pants and put my hand on his cock. He asked me to suck it but I wasn’t quite ready for that; however I did agree to jerk him off. He lasted two strokes before he blew his load in my palm. That was all, folks,“ said Stacy sitting on the bed tying her saddle oxfords.
“So he was lying when he went around the next day at school letting all the other boys smell his fingers claiming the aroma was your pussy?” said Traci as she applied lipstick.
“Yes, not that it matters after all these years,” said Stacy unaware Michael had done that. “Where is Michael Kerwin these days?”
“Stanford.”
“I should look him up and find out what I missed,” said Stacy. “Portia, can you help me with these pig tails. I haven’t worn pig tails since elementary school.”
“At least you can wear them,” said Portia. Her short hair prevented her from following Leslie suggestion hostesses wear schoolgirl pigtails for the golf event. Portia parted Stacy’s hair and tied the plaid bows made from the same material as the skirt.
“Leslie’s a genius when it comes to making nice girls look like whores,” said Traci lifting her skirt to make sure the thin band of panty material was lodged between her labia.
“I’m not sure there are any nice girls here today. Your great grandfather would not approve,” said Stacy recalling Traci’s earlier statement as they finished dressing.
“No, but I bet he would get a hard on if he were present,” said Traci.
“I should be down on State Street flagging down cars and asking if they want a half and half. It’s a cross between street whore and Catholic schoolgirl. I’d call it the St. Leslie of the Sacred Slut look,” said Portia looking in the mirror. “You said he would be spinning in his grave.”
“According to family history, he was a true descendant of the Puritans. He fired one of his best managers for using foul language,” said Traci.
“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m giving head,” said Portia.
“What was it like last year?” asked Stacy recalling that Traci had previously participated.
“Smaller by half and there was no paint ball hunt. The survey the men filled out at the end of the event indicated the afternoon rest period should be replaced by another planned activity. Leslie decided paint ball would bring out the macho in the guys,” said Traci.
“Aren’t most of these men in there forties and fifties?” asked Portia?
“Yes indeed, they’re mostly old farts. There’ll be a few sixties also. Leslie mentioned there would be a seventy-year-old gentleman attending,” said Traci.
“I’ve never screwed anyone over forty. At least anyone I can recall,” said Stacy searching her memory.
“Me neither,” said Portia. “Won’t we wear them out?”
“Before the advent of those little blue pills, today’s orgy would be an impossibility. All these old guys would have limp dicks by noon. But thanks to big pharma, the studs will keep going and going like the Energizer Bunny. It was after midnight last year before the last one rolled off me,” said Traci.
“What are the boy girl ratios?” asked Portia.
“Thirty two cock loving sluts and sixty four pussy crazed studs if everyone shows,” said Traci. “We have the exact ratio Leslie wanted.”
“Where are they now,” asked Stacy?
“Having breakfast, storing up energy for a long day of whoring for a worthy cause,” said Traci.

***

Portia bowed low when she was introduced to the four Japanese automobile executives. She and another older woman named Kendra would be serving as their hostesses during the golf outing. Portia had a smattering of knowledge about Japanese customs gained from her close friendship with the Japanese members of a youth orchestra she had belonged to in Trenton.
“Act very subservient, do not stare or look them directly in the eye, be extremely polite,” Portia advised Kendra when the two found out they would be with the Japanese executives and Kendra asked for her counsel.
“Anything else I should know,” asked Kendra.
“Their semen tastes fishy and they expect you to swallow it and thank them for the privilege. Bow your head after you swallow then look up and smile as you say Thank You,” said Portia. Portia was glad theirs was the second foursome to tee off. It eliminated having to converse with four men for whom English was a second language.
“Where are you gentlemen from,” asked Kendra once they were off the first tee headed down the fairway?
“Tennessee,” was the surprising answer.
“Are you a prostitute, Portia,” asked the graying gentleman whose nametag read, “Hidecki”? He was the senior of the four and based on the deference paid by the others, the person in charge.
“No, Hidecki-san, I am a college student, studying government,” said Portia noting that Hidecki’s hand was now on her bare thigh. The foursome had been favorably impressed with her tattoos comparing her to the yakusa prostitutes much prized by salarymen. After they had been introduced, they spent several minutes examining each visible tattoo. They lifted her skirt to examine the dragon on her lower abdomen. They complemented her on the beauty of her skin art.
So far so good thought Portia glancing in the rear view mirror. I wonder if Leslie realized that the Japanese would be more accepting of skin art and piercings. Thus far I’m very impressed with how she’s organized everything.
Portia glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Kendra and Hidecki-san’s second in command, Hiro, kissing. Hiro’s fingers were inside the material covering Kendra’s crotch. He was massaging her sex while her hand stroked the large bulge in his golf slacks. Her fingers were fumbling for his zipper. The two gentlemen, Juro and the youngest of the four who introduced himself as Thomas, were in the golf cart’s rear seat reaching over Kendra’s shoulders to slip their hands inside her bra. They had already untied the blouse’s shirttails and lifted one of her breasts out of the bra cup.
If this much sex is happening and we’re barely off the first tee, I’m going to have a very interesting day thought Portia spreading her legs slightly to allow Hidecki-san’s hand a clear path to her crotch. Portia smiled demurely as his fingers brushed over her sex causing her to exhale her pleasure. Portia’s placed her hand on Hidecki’s pushing it harder against her moistening crotch as she carefully steered the cart with her other hand.

***

“Damn, we tee off next to last,” said Doug looking unhappily at the slip of paper with the number fifteen written on it. Doug was the fattest of the four overweight men in Stacy and Traci’s foursome. The other three were also carrying extra weight.
This is not going to be a roll in the hay with lean bodies and enough stamina to make a girl need to catch her breath realized Stacy as they introduced themselves to the men seated at their assigned table.
“I’m Traci and this is my good friend Stacy. We’re here to make sure you enjoy your weekend. I want to thank you personally for your support of Women In Harm’s Way,” said Traci.
“If there is anything we can do to make your weekend more enjoyable, just let us know,” added Stacy.
“What does anything include,” asked Tony?
“You’re going to have to work very hard to name something it doesn’t include,” said Stacy smiling at Tony.
“Traci and Stacy, easy enough to remember,” said Doug.
“It’s on my name tag, Doug, in case you forget,” said Stacy leaning forward as she arched her back to thrust her chest forward.
“We won’t forget,” said Ron the forty five year old senior partner in Boston’s leading architectural firm. His eyes were laser fixed on Stacy’s décolletage.
“Sit down, girls, we got quite a wait,” said Doug holding up the paper.
“What do you girls do for a living,” asked Tony attempting small talk?
“College student, pre-law,” said Stacy pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Ron’s a lawyer, you two should have a lot to talk about,” said Doug.
“Yes, the law is a wonderful career for a young woman,” said Ron recalling his recent vote to deny one of the firm’s most able female lawyers a partnership. “How about you, Traci?”
“I work in sales for my dad,” said Traci. “We’re a rep firm for a line of building materials.”
“Doug, Ron, Steve and Tony,” said Traci repeating the names as she looked around the table.
“Guys, I think we lucked out with our female companions even if we did get a lousy tee time,” said Doug. The men had taken one look at Stacy and decided they had been very fortunate indeed. She was easily the most attractive of the hostesses. In their collective view she was drop dead gorgeous with large breasts they couldn’t wait to get their hands on. Traci had a quieter girl next-door sexuality they also found very appealing. The four were anxious to get out on the golf course and investigate what was contained in Stacy’s brassiere visible under the partially buttoned blouse.
The six were seated together on the patio adjacent to the first tee. Stacy was sipping a second cup of coffee having just finished an excellent piece of pastry donated by a local bakery. Both girls had already made a mental note the preferred positions for sexual intercourse with the quartet were those where they were on top. Doug looked to be several inches shy of six feet with a waist that approached his height. The other three, Steve, Ron, and Tony, were only slightly less rotund.
“Damn, I was hoping we start having some fun early but we got an hour and a half to kill,” said Steve looking dejected. Steve was not looking forward to the prospect of wasting time exchanging small talk with two young women he barely knew. He rarely talked to his wife and he had no idea what he could say to Stacy and Traci. He doubted they would be terribly interested in the many problems and challenges he faced in running Boston’s largest biotech firm. For some reason, the four were reluctant to start anything with the girls until they reached the first tee.
“There’s a pool table in the billiard room,” said Ron. “We could shoot some pool while we wait.”
“I haven’t touched a pool cue since I graduated college,” said Tony looking disgusted.
“I have a suggestion,” said Stacy standing up and walking over to Doug easing into his lap as she put her arms around his neck firmly resting her boobs against his double chin. His hand found its way to her thigh.
Doug was the region’s leading commercial property developer and easily the richest and best known of the four. He was often seen on local access television attempting to cajole a planning board to rezone a piece of land or grant him a variance. She pressed her bottom against his crotch as she made her suggestion.
Leslie had repeatedly stressed the hostesses were to insure the donors enjoyed themselves and find some way to keep things from becoming dull. “In spite of the fact the men are business and community leaders, they may be shy at first. You have to take the lead in making things happen, especially at the beginning. Remember the better time they have, the more money for the shelter,” was Leslie’s counsel. “And more money means more women escaping an abusive relationship.”
“What do you have in mind, Stacy,” asked Doug glancing at the nametag on Stacy’s chest to be sure he had her name right? Given that his eyes had been drawn repeatedly to Stacy’s superstructure since they met moments ago, his uncertainty was surprising.
“Traci and I went to high school together but we haven’t seen each other for a while. We never did hook up when we students but we’d like to now. Why don’t we all go up to our room? You guys can watch us go down on each other then join in,” said Stacy.
“Watch you do what,” asked Ron unsure he understood but hoping he did? This was Ron’s first time at the charity event. While he heard stories about how much sex was available, he wasn’t sure it was true.
“Eat each other’s hot wet pussy,” said Traci following Stacy lead. “I’ve brought some toys we can play with. That is if you’re into toys. There’s an eighteen-inch double dildo Stacy and I can share. We’ll bury it in our cunts and rub our doughnuts together.”
“Wow,” said Ron unable to resist the urge to grab his cock.
“So, would you like to watch Traci and I go down on each other or shoot pool,” asked Stacy straightening her back to bring her boobs up Doug’s double chin as she ran her hands over the back of his head? “Personally, I like some cock before we get out on the course and you get too busy with your game to fuck us.”
“I’d like to see you two sluts go down on each other,” said Tony.
“You want to watch me eat Traci’s cunt? Don’t you, Doug?” asked Stacy pressing her rear against his crotch.
“Yes, can I call you names, Stacy? Don’t take it personal but I like to talk dirty,” said Doug feeling his erection grow. He’d taken a double dose of his erectile dysfunction drug moments before the girls arrived and it was starting to take effect.
“You mean names like cock sucking filthy whore,” asked Stacy before tracing her tongue around the curve of his ear.
“Yeah, I like that,” said Doug.
“Call us anything you like. You can have all the pussy you want, anyway you want it,” said Traci scooting her chair back then raising her legs resting her heels on the table. Traci’s skirt slid up exposing the highly visible wet stain in the center of her panty crotch.
“You girls like to swallow come,” asked Steve becoming aroused by the conversation.
“I’ll swallow every drop, Steve,” said Stacy. “That is after Traci and I snowball.”
“You have any problem with anal,” asked Ron expectantly?
“Only that I can’t get enough of it,” said Stacy. “My asshole’s douched and ready. I was hoping you liked backdoor action.”
“We’re both rear entry girls. Isn’t everybody these days?” said Traci.
“My wife certainly isn’t,” said Doug causing everyone to laugh.
“Let’s go. Sex beats pool any day,” said Steve standing up.
“Damn right it does. I’ve always like to see girls go down on each other,” said Tony.
“My cock’s hard,” said Ron standing up to show the bulge in his golf slacks. There was a small wet spot.
Chapter 39 Teeing Off


“Stay like this, please,” said Hiro positioning Kendra where she was bent from the waist leaning forward supporting her weight by resting her forearms on the back of the golf cart. Kendra widened her stance to better match the disparity between their heights.
“Oh yes, do it, please,” whispered Kendra parting her labia with her fingers to insure his pathway was unobstructed. She further signaled her willingness by moaning. She swayed her bottom seductively as Hiro eased his cockhead between her buttocks feeling for her opening. When she felt him touch her core she performed the yoga position known as the Cow causing her back to arch downward tilting her vagina upward as she threw her head back stretching the ligaments in her neck. According to her Tantric training, the cow signified submission to a partner engaged in rear entry.
This is truly a beautiful place for a fuck thought Kendra admiring the grandeur of the snow capped Presidential Range in the distance. It seems oddly American to be enjoying impersonal sex with a group of Japanese businessmen while looking up at Mt. Washington. Hiro-san is my first oriental. That too seems strange for a woman of thirty-six who has had more than her share of sexual partners. Lloyd will enjoy hearing the details of my day. I only wish they were video taping everything so he and I could masturbate together while we watched.
“Here, allow me, Hiro-san,” said Kendra reaching between her legs to guide his penis into her well-lubricated vagina. A hiss of pleasure escaped her lips as the nerves surrounding her opening acknowledged the presence of an intruder.
Sensing the head was just inside the willing girl’s sex Hiro took a firm hold of Kendra’s hips for leverage and without hesitating achieved full penetration. Hiro excitedly spoke several words of Japanese expressing the pleasure he was feeling from his first fuck of the day.
“Oh that’s good. Fuck me as hard as you want. Your cock feels so big inside me,” said Kendra offering verbal encouragement to Hiro as she compressed the muscles lining her vagina to increase his pleasure. Kendra believed verbal encouragement was important especially to a male penetrating her for the first time. Proper unambiguous feedback was even more essential to a foreigner unused to screwing American females. She wished she knew a few Japanese phrases to whisper in Hiro’s ear that would encourage him to hurt her while they fucked. Deciding to chance it, she reached back to move his hand from her hip to her breast as she whispered, “Hurt me, please, Hiro-san. Pinch my titties. I like pain if you like giving it.” She felt a rush of pleasure as his fingers flattened her nipple before pulling and twisting it.
It reminds me of our sacred mountain thought Hiro looking over Kendra’s back at the peaks in the distance. Hiro would have preferred to be in his home near Tokyo slowly binding Kendra in rope and bamboo until she was completely immobilized in an awkward painful position. He would have begun with his favorite, Shinju, binding her large breasts. Nyoko, his wife, would be there to help, handing him precisely the correct thickness and length of rope. As he pressed Kendra’s nipple flat and twisted it, he wondered how well she would endure hours of having her nipples crushed between two bamboo shoots.
Once Kendra’s breasts were bound he would perform Sukaranbo, placing the coarse hemp between her labia then tightening it to where the twisted strands cut into her flesh. The thick rope would disappear between the large folds of flesh that adored the pussy of American women. As he rhythmically thrust into a grunting Kendra, he recalled the tears his sister-in-law shed when he pulled the ropes tight across her sex. When the young women had protested, Nyoko had slapped her face, ordering her to be quiet and not embarrass her sister.
Finally when Kendra was completely immobilized and in terrible pain, he would attach her to his pulley and lift her off the ground. She would hang there moving quietly with the wind while he enjoyed his tea. He would wait, watching her for several hours before releasing her.
“Hiro-san, slap my butt, please, make it hurt,” said Kendra interrupting his thoughts. Hiro responded with a powerful slap to one buttock. I made a commitment to adapt to Western ways when I accepted the position in the United States recalled Hiro-san.
Anxious to make a favorable impression so Leslie would invite her again, Kendra coordinated her movements with Hiro-san’s. Kendra was aware she was one of the older hostesses present. The presence of college age girls such as Portia and her incredibly beautiful roommate required her to rely on her superior experience and knowledge.
Since becoming sexually active in college, Kendra had aggressively pursued the study and practice of many aspects of human sexuality. A life long participant in the world of BDSM, recently, she and her husband, Lloyd, had attended a Tantric yoga class in Hawaii where she mastered the art of using muscles in her vagina and rectum to increase both her and her partner’s pleasure. Kendra began to repeat the mantra taught her by her Tantric master, “The mind commands the body’s pleasure.” Kendra silently intoned her mantra over and over as she contract her core muscles on Hero-san’s thrusting cock.
Portia was sitting on the golf cart step energetically sucking Hidecki’s cock. The cart was parked by the green. Juro and Thomas were still putting. Portia was enjoying herself immensely as she concentrated on pleasing her partner summoning all the many skills and techniques she’d mastered in her years of cock sucking. Her first rule was to act so turned on from having Hidecki’s dick in her mouth she could barely control herself. Portia occasionally paused to rub his cock over her face smearing her cheeks with saliva. She allowed the lust she was feeling to show as she pressed his wet cock to the side of her face while her tongue teased his urethra.
Not wanting to orgasm too quickly, Hidecki-san occasionally turned around and bent over presenting his anus to Portia. For an older man, he was amazingly flexible and the crown of his head came within an inch or so of touching the ground. During these interludes of anilingus, Portia parted his buttocks and vigorously applied her lips and tongue to his sphincter.
When Stacy told Portia of the invitation, she’d immediately visited the Women In Harm’s Way WEB site. After viewing their site and locating independent reviews of charities, she’d concluded the organization was an excellent one. Ninety cents of every dollar donated went to operations. Portia had first hand knowledge of spousal abuse. Her favorite aunt had been married to a drunken brute who abused her and Portia’s cousins. Portia could recall the times Aunt Lucille showed up unexpectedly with a cut lip or a black eye to cry on her sister’s shoulder.
Performing sexually for such a good cause is emotionally rewarding decided Portia raising Hidecki-san’s cock with her hand to lick his balls. I’m not just fucking for my own pleasure this time. The weather is cooperating. Even though it was only spring, the sun was warm enough she didn’t mind it when Hidecki-san ordered her to strip her down to her shoes and sun visor on the first green. She found it exhilarating to be standing naked holding the flag as he putted out on the hole.
Being nude in the great out of doors had an erotic feeling all its own decided Portia. I should try nudism some time though Portia as she licked along the underside of Hidecki’s penis to arrive at the tip which she took in her mouth using her tongue on the cock head as her hands performed in a coordinated fashion on his balls and shaft.
“Aiyee, you are good cock sucker. Your mother teach you to suck dick,” asked Hidecki as removed a cigarette from his shirt pocket.
“No, my sister,” said Portia taking his cock out of her mouth to answer as she reached in her small bag resting on the floor to remove a lighter. She reached up to light his cigarette as she continued to stroke his cock.
“Ah, your sister, it is good to be taught such things by one’s family,” said Hidecki delivering a comment difficult for a Westerner to fathom.
***

“Let’s get them so hot, they can’t wait to fuck us,” whispered Stacy as she and Traci started slowly kissing and fondling each other as they stood by the bed. They were back in Guest Suite 11. Doug and the others were seated around the room watching intently.
“My bag of toys is beside the bed. I’ve got a couple of strap on cocks. If they’re anything like my fiancé, they’ll love having a rubber dick in their ass,” whispered Traci.
“Good idea but let’s take it slow. We have ninety minutes to kill,” whispered Stacy as she pushed the tip of her tongue in Traci’s ear.
“I always wanted to do you,” replied Traci in a whisper between deep passionate kisses. “What caused you to change?”
“It’s complicated,” asked Stacy slipping her hand up Traci’s skirt cupping her buttocks. “I love your ass. It’s so firm.”
“I couldn’t believe it when Leslie said you were coming to her weekend. I actually asked her if it was the Stacy Todd who grew up in Weston. You were known as the ice princess in school. Until Michael Kerwin claimed to have taken your cherry, no one said they’d ever touched you ”
“To set the historical record straight. Jayson Witherow took my virginity prom night. He managed to get it in me, pump twice, and then rush to the bathroom to puke. He stayed there wrapped around the porcelain throne until the sun came up, a victim of butterscotch schnapps and Bailey’s Irish cream.”
“God that sounds like the world’s worst hangover,” said Traci taking hold of the waist of Stacy’s panty and pulling them down.
“The following summer I arranged another attempt. This time it was with Justin Bookman on his parent’s yacht that fortunately was tied to the dock. He was so excited he splattered two loads in my navel before he got inside. On his and final third try, he delivered his swimmers ten seconds after entry,” said Stacy. He was so humiliated he jumped up and ran leaving me to take a taxi home “After those wonderful experiences I gave up sex for a while.”
“You must have met somebody who knew what they were doing. Leslie said you had an incredible appetite and heavy into anal and kink,” said Traci.
I’ve changed and so have you. Let’s show our audience some tit,” whispered Stacy untying the knot at the bottom of Traci’s blouse then slipping it off her shoulders dropping it to the floor.
As Stacy slipped her hand inside Traci’s bra taking her nipple in her fingers, she recalled the time in high school Traci got suspended for touching another girl’s buttocks in the girl’s shower. Stacy reached around Traci taking hold of her buttock to grind their crotches together as they tongue kissed.
“I love to jerk off while a couple of Lesbos get it on,” said Steve unzipping his trousers. He removed his already firm cock and began to stroke it.
“These two rug munchers better be ready to suck my dick,” said Doug following suit. “My Johnson needs a tongue bath.”
“Shit, you’re so fucking hot, Stacy Todd. Just think, next year I’ll be an old married woman. If I’m not pregnant, I’ll think up some excuse to sneak off for Leslie’s weekend. Leslie says there are a number of married women here today. Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun,” said Traci.
“I recall you had a preference for your own gender in school,” said Stacy working her clit against Traci’s using her buttocks to pull her tightly into her pubic region.
“I still love pussy but I’ve also developed a taste for cock. Oh fuck you’re getting me hot. I love a good grinding. I’m so wet,” whispered Traci pressing her sex hard against Stacy’s.
“I’m bisexual too. I love the feel and taste of pussy,” said Stacy.
“I was strictly into girls in high school. My appetite for cock developed later. But you were the source of some of my fantasies. I used to see you naked in the locker room, fix that image in my mind and go home to jerk off.”
“I want to see the blonde’s boobs,” said Doug all the while stroking his now fully erect cock.
Traci untied Stacy’s blouse then slipped it off her shoulders. Then she lifted Stacy’s breast from the bra cup and kissed it, looking Doug in the eye as her tongue smeared saliva over the nipple.
“Suck that titty, Traci. Put that big knocker in your mouth and suck on it. Fuck, there’s nothing hotter than a pair of dykes getting all worked up,” said Steve.
“Good, they’re getting excited. I was a late bloomer when it came to sex. Now I’m making up for lost time,” said Stacy reaching behind Traci to unsnap her bra. She slipped it off Traci’s shoulders and tossed it in Steve’s lap. Steve caught the bra in one hand and wrapped it around his already exposed cock using it to masturbate. Stacy’s hand grasped Traci’s breast, squeezing it to a point as she licked circles around the nipple. She established eye contact with Steve as she sucked hard on Traci’s nipple.
“These two are fucking hot,” said Ron. “I could get my nut just watching them.”
“Portia’s hot,” said Traci. “But you two seem a little mismatched,” unsnapping Stacy’s bra then tossing it to Doug.
“34D,” pronounced Doug reading the label. “I knew it. Suck her tits, Traci. Make those zickers stand up and yell.”
Stacy threw her head back and inhaled as Traci’s mouth covered her nipples. When she looked around she saw all four of the men had exposed their cock.
“Traci, look at all that cock. It’s making me wet,” said Stacy aloud before whispering, “Opposite’s attract. She’s a good friend, a terrific lover, and one of the most talented and intelligent people I’ve ever met.”
“I hope Portia meant it when she said we would get together later. I’d love to do her. You won’t mind?” whispered Traci unzipping Stacy’s skirt and letting it fall to the floor.
“No, we have an open relationship. Enough talk, we better concentrate on our guests,” whispered Stacy unfastening Traci’s skirt recalling Leslie’s suggestion that the men’s pleasure came first. “Get them off then worry about your own orgasm. Remember this is for a good cause,” was something Leslie constantly emphasized.
Traci fell to her knees and placed both hands on Stacy’s bottom. She pushed her face hard against her wet sex driving her tongue into Stacy’s vagina. Stacy sat down on the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide as she pulled her nipples.
“Anything special you want to see,” Stacy asked her audience?
“You too sixty nine. I want to see you eat each other’s pussy,” said Tony.
Stacy stood up and kicked off her saddle oxfords. Traci did the same.
“Get on top,” said Stacy rolling to the center of the bed. Traci straddled her. The two girls began to lick and suck one another’s sex. The four men gathered close around the bed stroking their erections.
“I’m going to get naked,” said Doug pulling his golf shirt over his head exposing his large round belly. The others followed suit. Moments later, the two girls were surrounded by four naked men. They were reaching in touching the girls.
“Traci, make Stacy suck your butt,” said Tony who struck Stacy as incredibly hairy in spite of his baldness.
“I was hoping we would luck out and get some real men,” said Traci. “Real men love anal.”
Traci immediately raised to a kneeling position her buttocks above Stacy’s face. Stacy’s hands separated Traci’s cheeks allowing her to swipe her tongue across the wrinkled brown skin.
“You like eating butt, Stacy,” asked Tony?
“Yes, I love it,” said Stacy driving her face into Traci’s ass crack.
“Man, these two are real ass-licking sluts,” said Ron.
“You want to suck my cock and eat my hairy ass, Stacy?” asked Tony climbing up on the bed positioning his butt toward Stacy’s face. The other three got on the bed making a crowded pile of flesh.
“Can’t wait. Let’s do it,” said Stacy wetting her finger then placing the fingertip against Tony’s sphincter and pressing lightly.
“Fuck me, Steve, Doug. I want two cocks at once,” said Traci
Traci climbed off Stacy taking Doug’s cock in her mouth as she pointed her bottom toward Steve.
Tony was on his knees with his face on the mattress. His hands reached straight back to separate his butt cheeks.
“You like hairy assholes,” said Tony fully exposing his hirsute anus.
“Love them,” said Stacy as she applied her lips and tongue to the brown wrinkled rosette of flesh. Stacy’s circled the base of his balls with her hand as she swiped her tongue over his anus. Behind her Ron rested his belly on her lower back as he positioned his cock at her opening. Stacy quickly reached between her legs to take hold of his cock and force it into her vagina. Stacy glanced over to see Traci moving slowly between Steve and Doug.
“That’s right cunt. Eat my brown hole, ” said Tony as Stacy forced the tip of her tongue through his anal opening.
I wonder how Portia is doing with the Japanese gentlemen thought Stacy as she worked her tongue in Tony’s asshole while Ron slammed into her vagina. Portia’s fellow hostess, Kendra, looked older. I wonder how many of the sixty-four cocks here will I have in me before this is over. It appears I’ll have four before nine o’clock.

***

“You’re right, their semen does taste fishy,” said Kendra. The two girls, naked except for socks and saddle oxfords, were standing at the cart watching their foursome tee off.
“I read somewhere that Japanese women complain American jism tastes like beef,” said Portia before placing her hand on Kendra’s shoulder turning her for a kiss.
“That was nice,” said Kendra after returning the kiss. I wish there was more time for just the two of us to be together.
“I live in Cambridge near Harvard,” said Portia as she bent over to gently suck Kendra’s nipple.
“I’m north in Lexington. You can suck harder. I like it to hurt a little, actually a lot.
“Where the embattled Minutemen stood and fired the shot heard round the world,” said Portia. “I once read that the Minutemen sodomised all the British prisoners they took that day.”
“Lexington’s still a great town for sodomy. Half of the male population is getting it on the down low including my husband. He belongs to a group that meets at a local motel for hours of non-stop homosexual intercourse. He’s a total bottom. He’s got quite a rosebud when he gets back home.”
“You don’t mind,” asked Portia?
“Not as long as he doesn’t mind me having fun occasionally,” said Kendra.
“Suburbia is truly a wicked place. I’m looking forward to the time when I live there,” said Portia.
“What do you do,” asked Kendra reaching between Portia’s legs to feel her wet sex? She pushed two fingers into Portia’s sex causing semen to drip down her thighs.
“Junior year, Harvard School of Government, You?” said Portia opening her stance to allow Kendra’s fingers to penetrate her deeper.
“Part time architect for McCain & Robinson plus taking care of a husband and two wonderful children, Nicole and Elliot, fourteen and thirteen,” said Kendra licking her fingertips. “You taste delicious.”
“Sounds challenging,” said Portia sucking hard on Kendra’s now fully erect nipple. Kendra moaned when Portia pressed it flat with her teeth.
“It is but I love the work and being a mother. Lloyd is wonderful too. We share our love for sado-masochism. Our only concern is we’re both submissive. Bite harder,” said Kendra. “I prefer pain with sex.”
“And I like causing it. Preliminarily, I’d say we’re a good match,” said Portia. “I’ve been wanting to explore the sadistic side of my personality.”
“Here’s my work number, cell number and email,” said Kendra removing a card from her bag to give to Portia. “Give me a call next week and we can get together.”
“I’d like that. Stacy and I have been talking about domination and submission. We’ve both been submissives and we’d like to try domination,” said Portia.
“I’ve got a great idea. If your friend came along, she could dominate Lloyd. He would just die if I told him a beautiful blonde college girl with large breasts was coming over to stripe his butt. I’ll find an excuse to get my two out of the house for the day so we’ll have the place to ourselves. There’s a fully equipped play space in the basement. It’s even soundproof. No matter how loud we scream the neighbors won’t hear a thing.”
“I’d love to make you scream,” said Portia crushing Kendra’s nipple flat.

***

“Anyone want a strapon up their butt,” asked Traci leaning over the bed to pull out two leather harnesses each equipped with long clear plastic dildos?
“Yeah, I’m feeling a little homo,” said Doug who was at the moment underneath Stacy. Stacy was a little surprised when the others quickly agreed to have their rectum’s invaded with the foot long dildos.
“Here, Stacy, you can be blue,” said Traci handing Stacy the harness with the blue tinted dildo. Following Traci’s lead, Stacy fitted the shorted end of the dildo inside her vagina then tighten the nylon straps around her thighs and waist. As she was adjusting the Velcro fastener around her waist, she looked down to see Doug sucking hard on her faux cock.
Stacy took a firm grip on his thinning hair before shoving the cock head to the back of his throat.
“You like sucking cock. Don’t you Doug?” asked Stacy using her hips to thrust into his mouth.
“Fucking love it, cunt. Now get busy and give me a good reaming,” Doug said as he switched positions to offer Stacy his sphincter. Stacy squeezed lube over the puckered brown tissue then forced his hole open with her fingers.
“That’s right, slut, finger fuck my nasty asshole,” said Doug between moans of pleasure.
Stacy reached deeper until she felt Doug’s prostate. Her fingertips slowly stroked the walnut sized gland as she took a firm grip on the base of his testicles and pulled down.
“Oh baby, you must be a pro,” said Doug pushing back to force Stacy’s fingers deeper. Doug’s uninhibited loud moans filled the small room as her fingers stroked his prostate while her hand gently squeezed and twisted his balls.
“Let’s see if I can make it come out your mouth,” said Stacy getting to her feet to straddle Doug.
“Fuck the shit out of me,” said Doug as Stacy positioned the sizeable cockhead just inside his anus. Stacy moved it slightly back and forth stimulating his sphincter. Her hands took a firm grip on his love handles.
“Get ready, Doug. I’m going to light you up,” said Stacy before using her strong arms and legs to penetrate Doug to the maximum extent possible.
“Oh shit,” screamed Doug his rectum a center of fiery pain.
“You can take it, baby. I’m going to give you the ride of your life,” said Stacy repeating her downward thrusts a dozen more times.
“You’re killing me, bitch, but I love it,” yelled Doug reaching back to pull his enormous buttocks apart to allow deeper penetration.
The two girls swapped partners until each of the men could state both girls had sodomised him. At Doug’s suggestion, Traci stuck her strapon in Stacy’s ass then transferred it to her mouth. Stacy got to return the favor.
“You two are real pig sluts, sucking a dildo that just been inside all our assholes. You know what that makes you,” asked Doug?
“An ATM whore,” said Traci.
“What’s that,” asked Steve?
“Ass to Mouth whores,” said Traci licking the plastic cockhead Stacy had seconds before taken out of her ass.
“Ass to mouth, I like that,” said Doug.
It was time to get dressed and go to the first tee when the four men decided to end their lovemaking by giving the girl’s facials.
“Swallow my spunk, cunts,” said Doug jerking his cock kneeling beside the two girls. Stacy and Traci were in the center of the bed lying on their backs in opposite directions. Their heads were side by side their ears touching. Their mouths were open with tongues extended.
Steve was on the opposite side from Doug. Stacy’s hand rhythmically squeezed Doug’s testicles. Beside her, Traci was performing identically with Steve.
“Gonna blow,” said Doug resting his cockhead on Stacy’s tongue as he furiously stroked his shaft. Her hand was working his scrotum while her tongue teased his piss slit.
“I’ll swallow every drop,” said Stacy maintaining eye contact while her expression reflected the deep desire and lust she felt.
“Take that, slut,” said Doug squirting his first load of the day onto Stacy’s face and tongue. Seconds later, Traci felt Steve’s jism land in her open mouth. Both girls waited until their faces were coated with semen before taking the cockhead in their mouth to extract the final few drops. Then they turned to one another and licked the come off each other’s face. Then they put their lips together noisily swapping the contents back and forth until they swallowed.
“Our turn,” said Ron as he and Tony replaced Doug and Steve.
Momentarily, the two swapped more ejaculate before swallowing the residue.
“You two are hot little whores,” said Doug wiping his cock in Stacy’s hair. “I pity the stupid bastard that marries you.”
Everyone had to clean up and dress to get downstairs for their tee time. Right before they were to start, Doug’s foursome swapped Stacy and Traci with another foursome waiting to tee off. As it turned out, it was the first of many times, the two girls were traded during the eighteen holes of golf.
Stacy was a little surprised at the trade but Traci had expected it. “You heard Doug. We’re just a piece of ass to them. Besides, men had genetically programmed to breed with each member of the herd,” said Traci.
“You two whores get naked,” said Larry the new foursome’s leader. The two girls slipped out of their uniform and climbed into the golf cart clad only in saddle oxfords and sun visor.
Chapter 40 Rape In The Woods


“Mount up and ride, Tim,” said Portia to the CEO of the largest bank of Arizona.
“Don’t mind if I do,” said the executive speaking in a Western accent as he pulled his zipper down to free his cock.
If this keeps up, I’m going to get a new personal record for most men fucked in a day thought Portia as she took a firm hold on the back of the golf cart assumed a wide stance and bent over at the waist. I’ve already lost count and there are still four holes to go. However, sixty-four would be the theoretical max. I wonder how many times a female vagina can sustain intercourse in a twelve-hour period without suffering damage.
I recall reading about an American army nurse who was captured in World War II at the fall of Corregidor. Since she was young and pretty, the Japanese made her a comfort girl and placed her in a brothel for their soldiers. She claimed to have serviced over a hundred soldiers each day for three years. I did four Japanese this morning and I am none the worse for wear.
Stacy was gang raped by twenty Puerto Ricans in New York and was fine the next day. I suppose women are genetically equipped to handle repeated penetration. Some of us love it. Being used over and over by men you barely met and don’t know is quite a turn on. And having to act the part of the anxious to please whore desperate for their cock adds to the fun.
Whatever the final count it’s certainly passes my previous record for outdoor sex noted Portia. Screwing on a golf course overlooking a mountain lake is invigorating decided Portia as she wiggled her bottom provocatively for the tall lean man preparing to enter her.
Traci was right about their using erectile dysfunction drugs. These guys are out performing the black jocks on my high school’s basketball team. There’s no end of erections and the one I’m about to take is pretty large.
“Please, Tim, put it in my pussy. It’s so big and I need it so bad,” said Portia after wetting her lips then looking over her shoulder at the middle-aged man slapping his cock on her backside. The forked fingers of one hand separated her labia.
“Don’t worry, cunt. I’m going to give you all you can handle,” said Tim rubbing his cock between her butt cheeks teasing her sphincter. He surprised her with a loud swat to her rear that left her cheek burning. His hand took a firm grasp on her hair pulling her head back.
“Oh yeah, spank me, that makes me so horny,” cooed Portia reacting positively to the pain and manhandling.
“You got it, bitch,” said Tim.
“Harder,” yelped Portia as a series of open palmed slaps landed on her bottom.
“Turned your ass red,” said Tim his thumb pressing against her sphincter.
“Good, now fuck the living shit out of me, Tim,” demanded Portia.
Portia felt the stiff cock wedge apart the crack of her ass. A sharp cry from the direction of the lake caught her attention. She watched as a crying loon circled high above then spiraled downward to scoop up a fish. As the loon tilted its beak to swallow the fish, Portia swayed her back then reached with one arm between her legs to guide Tim’s penis into her pussy. Her cunt was dripping fluids and he easily glided in until he reached her cervix. Portia moaned with pleasure. She inhaled deeply contracting her abdominal muscles. Out on Winnipesaukee, the loon beat its powerful wings and soared into the air.
“You got a talented pussy, Portia,” said Tim.
“And it loves having your big dick inside it. Fuck me, baby, fuck me hard,” said Portia once more getting off from the sound and feel of his testicles slapping against her sex.
“I like your asshole,” said Tim slipping his thumb inside Portia’s rectum.
“And it likes your finger. Open me up. I love ass play,” Portia responded as she clamped her sphincter down on Tim’s index finger.
“Mind if I spit in it,” asked Tim deciding his last minute decision to attend the golf weekend was an excellent one?
“Go ahead. I love it when a man spits in my open butt,” Portia said.
“I wish Merriam would let me spit in her butt.”
“Merriam,” asked Portia enjoying the sensation of a second index finger in her anus?
“My wife, she’s not very accommodating to my needs. She thinks anal is disgusting.”
“Well, I’m not Merriam. I think it’s hot as hell for a man to spit in my shithole,” said Portia adding a mix of lust and sexual desperation to her voice.
“You are one hot little bitch,” said Tim releasing a mouthful of warm spit.
“Oh yeah, Tim, fill me with your hot spit,” said Portia sensing the arrival of Tim’s sputum in her open butthole.
“Double duty time,” said another golfer named Ken slipping under Portia’s arm to take a position directly in front of her. He was leaning against the back of the cart. Portia flicked her tongue over his wet cock. Portia could taste Kendra’s pussy as it pressed against the back of her throat.
“Choke on it, you tattooed cunt,” said Ken taking a firm hold of Portia’s head and forcing her to accept two inches of his manhood into her throat. After a few seconds of enjoying Portia’s gagging and choking, he pulled his drool-covered cock out of her mouth.
“Say oink, oink, pig slut,’ said Ken.
“Oink, oink,” replied Portia dutifully as she developed the necessary rhythm for servicing two cocks at once.
“Your shot, Tim,” said someone and the man pummeling Portia’s snatch moved away to be replaced by another. Portia felt a fresh gob of spit land inside her rectum and slide down in her bowel.

***

“Ouch,” said Stacy feeling the paintball impact on her inner thigh.
“I got her. The blonde bimbo is ours,” yelled someone triumphantly from behind a nearby tree.
“Nice shot, you almost nailed her in the pussy,” said his partner.
Following the rules in the information packet, Stacy stopped in her tracks waiting for the hunters to claim their prey. Leslie had provided guidance for each hostess to read before the event.
“The Paintball Hunt is a new addition to our charity golf outing. It is intended to bring out the macho in our donors by pretending it’s a rape in the woods by total strangers. Things may be a little wild and rough but remember it’s for a good cause. While you’re enduring a few minutes of discomfort think of the poor women who live for years in abusive relationships. Those thoughts should see you through moments of brutality.”
Leslie’s write-up had included some insight into the men’s behavior during the hunt.
“Our donors are leaders in their respective fields and as such are Alpha males. In their world they are the predators. Make the hunt a challenge. We don’t want it to be too easy. On the other hand, its’ important they bag at least one hostess. Make them work but not too hard. We wouldn’t want anyone left out.”
Stacy was wearing an abbreviated cotton dress made of tiger stripes camouflage cloth. The hem exposed the bottom of her buttocks. Her bra and panty were also camouflage material. Even her cross trainers were decorated with tiger stripes. A clothing manufacturer located in New York’s garment district had donated the outfit as a charitable contribution. Goggles protected her eyes from errant paint shots. When the three in Suite 11 were dressing, Portia informed them the French during the Vietnam War had invented the now ubiquitous tiger stripes camouflage.
“And we all know what happened to the French in Indo-China,” added Portia.
“No, what happened,” asked Traci?
“They got fucked,” said Portia causing everyone to laugh.
The thirty-two hostesses had been given a five-minute head start to disappear into the eighty-acre nature reserve surrounding Moynahan Castle. Ninety minutes later, Leslie would sound a claxon signaling the end of the hunt.
“Catch them and rape them,” yelled Leslie when she signaled for the men to begin the hunt.
Stacy had been slowly jogging along a path when she was hit. Two middle age men in full camouflage and goggles appeared out of the trees rushing toward Stacy to claim their prize.
“Tie her over that log,” said the shorter of the two as they arrived. His nametag read Roger.
Nearby was a fallen giant whose death must have occurred several years before. There was a bed of moss covering the top of the tree trunk.
“Please don’t hurt me. I was just out for a walk,” said Stacy engaging in the role-play suggested by Leslie. Stacy was doing her best to act terrified.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch. Lay on your back over the log,” said the man whose nametag read Bruce as he roughly grabbed Stacy’s arm pushing her toward the log.
Stacy heard the familiar sound of Velcro being pulled apart. Traci had mentioned the hunters would be equipped with nylon straps and Velcro fasteners to restrain their captured prey. Her wrists were tightly circled as she was bent backward over the log. Fortunately the moss made for a soft bed.
“Don’t move, cunt,” said Bruce brandishing a nasty looking hunting knife.
“Don’t cut me. Please sir, I’ll never trespass again,” said Stacy hoping Bruce was role-playing too and not for real.
“Cut open the wrapper, Bruce, and let’s see if she’s looks as good naked. I’ve already got a hardon,” said Roger.
“What are you going to do,” asked Stacy doing her best to appear on the verge of hysteria?
“Shut up or I’ll cut your face,” said Bruce looking like he meant it as he placed the knife against Stacy’s cheek. Stacy became instantly aware that things might get out of hand
“I’ll be quiet. Just don’t cut me, please,” whispered Stacy.
Stacy screamed as Bruce slipped the tip of his knife under the dress’s neckline and cut downward. The sharp blade easily sliced the thin material leaving Stacy in her bra and panty.
“She’s incredible. We really lucked out,” said Roger passing the nylon straps under the log to loop them around Stacy’s ankles.
“Let’s see if the collars and cuffs match,” said Bruce slicing through the crotch material of Stacy’s panty.
“Whats the verdict,” asked Roger from beneath the log. He was pulling the nylon straps to take up the slack?
“Can’t tell, whore’s pussy. Not a hair on it,” said Bruce spreading Stacy’s sex open. Stacy assuming the role of an about to be raped innocent young female began to cry when Bruce felt her sex. His fingers roughly pushed into the nerve dense tissue surrounding her vaginal opening causing her to cry out. She felt something being fastened around her ankles spreading her legs apart to the point her groin muscles protested.
“I brought a few things to make this more interesting. I knew an ankle spreader would come in handy. Nothing like it for keeping a pussy wide open,” said Roger adjusting the telescoping metal rod to its maximum.
You’re hurting me,” cried Stacy fearing her hip joints were being dislocated.
“Where did you get that fucking thing, Roger,” asked Bruce as he slipped the tip of his knife under the center of Stacy’s bra? The bra cups snapped apart due to Stacy’s overstretched position. Bruce took Stacy’s nipples in his fingers and twisted them hard as he pulled upward. “These are about the best looking pair of tits I ever saw.”
“Please stop. They’re very sensitive,” pleaded Stacy.
“I said shut the fuck up,” said Bruce emphasizing his words with a vicious twist of Stacy’s bud. Stacy could only whimper in pain as he rolled the crushed flesh back and forth between his fingers. Tiring of her left nipple, he applied his painful attentions to her right.
“Kimberly ordered it from a WEB site,” said Roger tightening each strap in turn trying to make the tension uniform. Stacy’s body almost circled the log. Her back and shoulders ached from the strain. The crown of her head was pointed toward the forest floor. Her hands and feet were within a foot of touching one another.
“Kimberly let you fuck her with it on,” asked Bruce?
“Me and several others according to the detective I hired. He got her on video with her personal trainer and the pool boy. Her lawyer told her not to even think about contesting our pre-nupt. That’s what I get for marrying a whore I met in Vegas. Here hold this tight while I fasten it so blondie can’t move an inch. I want it to hurt.”
“Kimberly liked it that way,” asked Bruce pressing Stacy down hard against the log? “There, she’s ready. You go first. It was your shot got her.”
“She liked to feel open and helpless. She begged me to tie her to the bed, spread her open with this and whip her snatch with my belt.”
“Really, this one could use a little warming up,” said Bruce placing his hand on Stacy’s sex causing her to whimper.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I brought something else to make sure blondie knows the difference between a rape and a fuck,” said Roger reaching into his backpack for a pair of heavy brass objects. He handed one to Bruce.
“Looks nasty. What the fuck is it?” asked Bruce examining the ornately fashioned tool of torture. It was circular with a hole in the center.
“They’re called Bangkok Bud Crushers. I got them on my last trip to Thailand. They were a gift from the owner of the factory where they make one of our clothing lines. Pimps in Thailand use them to discipline whores who don’t know their place. He uses them when one of the seamstresses complains about the pay or the working conditions. When I arrived, he had a labor agitator hanging stripped at the factory entrance wearing a pair of these. You talk about regrets. When he cut her down, she kissed his feet for letting her go then crawled away holding what was left of her boobs. I asked about them so he gave me a pair as a gift,” said Roger. “Hell of a nice fellow.”
“Wish we could handle labor and management problems like that. I got some stuck up cocks teasers in my call center I would love to see wearing a pair of these,” said Bruce hefting the device. “Sucker’s heavy. How do they work?”
“Simple enough,” said Roger turning the disc over to show the rows of tiny sharp teeth on the underside. “It’s spring loaded. Press down here to cock it,” said Roger demonstrating how to cock the trigger. A loud click sounded.
“Like this,” asked Bruce his knuckles turning white from the strain? He barely managed to cock his device. “Sucker has a serious spring. Are you sure this won’t take her nipple right off?”
“If it does, we’ll have to say we’re sorry,” said Roger laughing.
“Fucking Thais, those yellow bastards got nothing better to do than think up shit like this all day. No wonder they’re still riding elephants,” said Bruce. “So show me. I’m anxious to get my cock in her snatch.”
“First you suck her tit hard so her zicker is fully extended,” said Roger leaning down to take Stacy’s breast in her mouth. Stacy squealed in pain as Roger’s cheeks hollowed as he applied all the suction he could muster.
Bruce felt his cock harden as Roger’s mouth created a fiery pain in Stacy’s breast. Her pleas for Roger to stop accented by the tremors of her legs made him anxious to climb on Stacy and enter her. Her fear of them and what they might do to her excited him enormously.
“Please don’t put that on me. I’ll do anything you want, said Stacy crying real tears of pain.
“When you got her bud at full attention like so, you place the crusher over the center of her tit and pull her nipple through the center hole like so,” said Roger managing to capture Stacy’s fully erect and wet nipple on the first try.
“You got it,” said Bruce. “Now what?”
“Pull it out as far as you can and give it a half twist,” said Roger. “Stretch that baby until it’s on the verge of ripping off.”
“Hurry up, I can’t wait to fuck the bitch,” said Bruce unzipping his trousers and exposing his cock.
“Honey, this is really going to hurt and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it,’ said Bruce grinning at Stacy as he fingered her sex.
“She’s scared shitless,” said Roger. “I bet she screams her fucking head off.”
“She will. Then you smile, look in her eyes and press the trigger. A Bangkok pimp always looks in the whore’s eyes as he releases the spring,” said Roger as he pressed the small trigger. There was a click and the entire base of Stacy’s nipple was instantly crushed in steel teeth. The pain was instantaneous and Stacy’s repeated scream echoed through the forest. In spite of the tautness of the nylon straps, Stacy writhed in pain
“I don’t think she liked it,” laughed Bruce pushing several fingers inside Stacy’s sex.
“Now, Bruce, you do the other tit. Oh, does it hurt, honey?” taunted Roger grabbing Stacy’s jaw to hold her head still. “You got nothing to complain about, Sweet Cheeks. You’re getting off easy.”
“No, please no,” screamed Stacy as Bruce’s mouth covered the end of her breast and began to suck her nipple creating excruciating pain.
“In Asia, a pimp will hang a girl who misbehaves from a beam by her thumbs then fasten a pair of these on her titties and leave her overnight. Next day and from then on, she is very anxious to do whatever the fuck he says. If it wasn’t against the rules, I find a trim limb and string you up.”
“Too bad, we can’t use them on our wives,” said Bruce as he pulled Stacy’s nipple through the center of the disc. Bruce leaned over to where his face was only inches from hers. Stacy pleas for mercy were ignored. Bruce pressed the trigger causing hundreds of pointed metal teeth to enter her areola.
Stacy’s muscular contortions and loud screams brought a broad smile to his face. “These bud crushers are really something. Next time you over seas, can you pick me up a pair?”
“Sure, but its going to be hard to find someone who’ll let you use them on her,” said Roger.
“I don’t intend to ask,” said Bruce flicking the bud crushers with his thumbnail causing Stacy additional pain.
“Please take it off. You can do what ever you want with me but take that off,” begged Stacy unable to stand the fiery pain in her breasts.
All through the Moynahan Nature Preserve, the hunters vied with one another to cause their captives intense pain. Many of the men were well traveled. Their trips abroad had afforded them the opportunity to acquire instruments of sexual torture from many different countries.
“Does that hurt, sweetheart,” asked Roger twisting the ornate brass clamp causing Stacy to scream.
“It must sting a little. Her nipples look like a overripe cranberry,” said Bruce noting how Stacy’s nipples had turned dark red and swollen to twice their normal size.
“God yes, please take it off. I’ll do anything just take it off my titties,” begged Stacy.
“Tough shit, we’re just getting started. Ever had your pussy whipped?” asked Roger removing his leather belt. Bruce followed his partner’s lead and removed his.
“No, please no more, go ahead and fuck me but don’t hurt me anymore,” said Stacy fighting to control the pain in her breasts and back. Leslie had not mentioned whether S&M was allowed when they were discussing the hunt but it was assumed the rape sex might get a little rough.
“I think she really wants us to whip her cunt. What do you think, Bruce?” asked Roger tapping his leather belt on Stacy’s exposed clit.
“Yeah, deep down, all whores love to be shown whose boss and there is nothing like a good hiding on their snatch to do just that,” said Bruce.
“We’ll take turns. You go first. We’ll let her count. If she fucks up before we get to twenty, we’ll start over,” said Roger.
“One,” screamed Stacy as Roger’s belt landed on her sex. In spite of the forest’s cool shade, she was covered in sweat. Stacy focused her mind on the pictures of abused women and children that Portia had shown her on the Women In Harm’s Way WEB site. What’s a little belt whipping compared to a man using you as punching bag for years thought Stacy while screaming, “Two,” as Bruce’s belt flattened her labia and clitoris sending horrible pains throughout her body. Between her own screams, Stacy heard other hostesses’ cries from different parts of the preserve.
“That’s twenty. She’s warmed up,” said Roger placing his belt to one side as he stroked his hard cock.
“Now, that’s the way a pussy should look, hot, swollen and red,” said Bruce pushing two fingers in Stacy’s vaginal opening. “Hey. Blondie, your cunt hurt?”
“Yes, please don’t whip me anymore. I couldn’t bear it,” said Stacy.
“Shit, look at that, Roger,” pulling his glistening fingers out of Stacy. “She’s dripping pussy juice. Young women today are nothing but whores.”
“It’s MTV. My stepdaughter watches it all the time. Her mom caught her and her boyfriend doing the nasty last week. Notice anything special about how her pussy looks,” asked Roger.
“Yeah, the way you got her stretch over the log with her legs apart causes her mound to stand up,” said Bruce.
“Right, her pubic bone is titled upward. Women’s pelvic bones are more flexible than a man’s, something to do with childbirth. My brother taught me that. He’s an orthopedic surgeon at Mass General,” said Roger.
“What’s the result,” asked Bruce continuing to finger fuck a whimpering Stacy’s cunt.
“Tighter fuck for us and more painful for the girl,” said Roger positioning his cockhead at Stacy’s opening.
“I’m going to skull fuck her,” said Bruce climbing over the log. “Now watch the teeth and don’t bite, Sweet Cheeks, or I’ll cut that pretty face. Maybe take an ear for a souvenir of my weekend.”
“I won’t bite. Don’t cut me,” said Stacy licking Bruce’s cock.
Stacy groaned, as Roger slammed hard into her upraised pubic bone. His brother the surgeon was right. Her sex felt incredibly tight as Roger’s cock pushed in what seemed like the wrong direction against her vaginal wall. The normally pleasurable act of sexual intercourse had been transformed into torture. Stacy’s focused her oral attention on sucking cock as she endured the painful thrusts into her vagina.
These men may be respectable CEOs but they sure know how to make sex hurt decided Stacy. My spine feels like it is about to break. My nipples are sources of indescribable pain. My labia and clit are on fire from their belts. The way they positioned me makes simple intercourse an act of intense agony. Each time he drives his cock home, it’s like he’s ripping my pussy apart. What does Alicia, my yoga instructor say? Take your mind into the pain. Concentrate on it. Embrace it. Use your breath to control your body. Stacy began a four-count breath regimen. As Roger’s cock spewed semen in her tortured sex, the breath control regimen began to take effect. Bruce quickly took his place. Stacy felt Roger’s semen flow down her thighs as Bruce entered her. Roger’s cock covered in his semen and her vaginal fluids forced its way past her lips.
Stacy reached a tipping point and the diminishing pain became growing pleasure. “Rape me, motherfuckers,” cried Stacy surprising her captors. Moments later, Bruce’s semen joined his partners inside Stacy’s tortured cunt.
“Roger, Bruce, is that you,” yelled a voice from a short distance away. The thick forest had concealed their presence.
“Keith, yeah, its us,” yelled Bruce.
“Its’ me and Mason. Want to swap,” asked Keith?
“Maybe, who you got there,” asked Roger?
“Says her name is Portia. She’s the slut with the tattoos and piercings. Got a nice tight ass or at least it was until we stuck both our cocks in it.”
“All right, be there in a second,” said Roger reaching up to remove the ornate clamps from Stacy’s breasts. A simple push of the release button and the metal teeth retracted. The removal brought a new wave of agony as the blood re-entered crushed capillaries.
Even through her screams, she recognized Portia as the source of a long plaintive wail of pain.
Moments later, Stacy heard the approach of the two men. She grunted in pain as one of the men forced his cock in her. The two took their time slamming hard into her vagina and mouth, frequently swapping positions.
Later, when both men had finished, the siren sounded signaling the then end of the hunt. Stacy was released and helped to her feet.
“Did you enjoy that, Stacy?” asked Keith?
“It got a little rough but I like it rough,” said Stacy rubbing her sore breasts recalling that she had sucked Keith off that morning on the sixteenth green. They were slowly walking back in the direction of the castle.
“I suppose we fellows get a little carried away,” said Mason observing the damage done to Stacy’s breasts.
“I figure it’s for a good cause,” said Stacy as they caught up with Portia, Roger, and Bruce.
“You okay,” asked Portia who looked all in?
“Fine, never better,” said Stacy rolling her eyes at Portia.
“Me too, I just wish we could do it again soon,” said Portia lifting up her boobs. “Weren’t those Bangkok Bud Crushers the most fun ever?”
“Yes, we should search the WEB and see if we could buy a pair,” said Stacy.
“You girls are tough little whores,” said Roger as they reached the front of the castle.

***

“Pain killers, anyone?” asked Leslie running around on the floor apologizing for the punishment the hostesses had taken.
“What do you have?” asked Portia looking in Leslie’s box of prescription medicine?
“Percoset, Vicodin, several different tranquilizers,” said Leslie holding the open box for Portia to make her selection.
“The bastards whipped my pussy until I fainted,” said Traci sitting on the bed using a compact mirror to examine her swollen and inflamed sex. “Then they fucked me in the ass after which they swapped me which meant another whipping followed by another round of getting all three orifices penetrated. They were animals.”
“Next year, I promise you there will not be a paintball hunt. I had no idea they would be so brutal. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured.”
“I loved it,” said Kendra looking over her shoulder in the mirror at her heavily stripped rear. “Simon had a tawse made from real kangaroo. He wanted me beg him to stop. His arm wore out before I did.”
“I got my boobs perforated and crushed,” said Stacy examining her breasts. “Plus they whipped my pussy with their belts.”
“Mine too, they hurt like hell,” said Portia selecting several pills then handing half to Stacy.
“Sorry, everyone, my fault. But let’s remember why we’re here and put the paintball rape behind us. Tonight’s banquet will be much easier. There will be no violence or pain. I suggest everyone rest for two hours before they start to get ready,” said Leslie.
Chapter 41 The Banquet

“Have you ever been to an orgy,” asked Traci making idle conversation in an attempt to relieve the boredom and discomfort of her position? Traci was resting on her elbows and the sides of her knees. Her thighs were extended perpendicular to her body. Her position resembled a frog and afforded the maximum exposure of her anus. If her tummy hadn’t been resting on two pillows the position would have been unbearable. Portia was kneeling at her rear applying body paint.
“I don’t think so, not sure,” said Portia after thinking a minute while she held the smoke from the marijuana cigarette in her lungs. “I’ve been in lots of group fucks and I’ve been gang banged but a true orgy, no, I don’t think I have.” Portia handed the cigarette to Traci who took a deep draw.
“You were gangbanged, Portia. That sounds awesome. Tell me what happened, girl,” asked Traci before filling her lungs? “This is tremendous dope. You have to promise to get me some to take on my honeymoon.”
“Will do. Our dealer has an extensive bridal registry,” said Stacy combing her hair.
“I attended Peter Richards High School in East Trenton, NJ. Being able to survive a gangbang was a graduation requirement at Double Dicks,” said Portia carefully outlining the large red lips she was body painting around Traci’s sphincter.
“Who gangbanged you?” asked Traci?
“The first time it was my older sister, Margaux. She and a half dozen of her dyke friends got me drunk then dildo fucked me to celebrate my birthday. They screwed me until I couldn’t come anymore then packed my orifices with sex toys and duct taped me to the school’s flag pole,” said Portia.
“You went to a tough school,” said Traci wondering what it would have been liked to be in Portia’s situation. Being naked and vulnerable appealed to her Traci’s erotic nature.
“One of the toughest, the next time it was in the boy’s locker room. The football jocks decided it would be fun to gang rape the Goth girls. One day after practice, they grabbed us and took us to the locker room where they made us strip for them. They tied us face down with our butts hanging off the benches.”
“Did the coach stop them,” asked Traci?
“It was the coach’s idea. He went first. Although it started off scary, it ended okay. They didn’t hurt us. It was my first but not last extended ride on a locker room bench. I lost my anal cherry that afternoon.”
“Your stories are making me hot and ready for the orgy,” said Traci stroking her crotch as she filled her lungs with marijuana smoke.
“What exactly makes an orgy an orgy?” asked Portia?
“You have to have a crowd,” said Stacy taking the joint from Traci.
“Total loss of sexual inhibitions, anything goes,” added Portia.
“Indiscriminate coupling with both sexes,” said Stacy.
“Piles of hot sweaty bodies starved for sexual intercourse in all forms and sizes,” said Portia. “Rubbing their organs together expressing a desperate yearning for penetration.”
“Body fluids are swapped to the point, you’ve got the taste of every pussy and cock in the room in your mouth,” said Traci.
“Stop, you’re making me horny,” said Stacy.
“Well if this year is anything like last, you can definitely add orgy experience to your resume,” said Traci. “It will be wild. Leslie has planned some kind of surprise.”
“This dress leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination,” said Stacy looking at her self in the mirror. The micro-fiber material formed itself around her breasts delineating her nipples. “I’ve worn clothes that showed my nipples before but never my entire boob. And look at the way it hugs my crotch. You can see my labia. This material acts like a second skin.”
“A cocktail dress that displays a girl’s camel toes. Isn’t it great to be alive and fucking in the America of today?” said Portia.
“In high school we used to tease Stacy about always having her headlights on. She’d spend the day walking around with her arms over them,” said Traci.
“I had to. The boys would pinch them and it hurt. But I’ve changed since those days,” said Stacy gently squeezing her nipples to make them stand out.
“You look gorgeous. I wish I looked half that good,” said Traci turning her head to stare at Stacy. “I’ve got to lose ten pounds before the wedding.”
“That shade of blue suits you,” said Portia dressing quickly. “And you definitely have the body for the dress.”
“I’m skipping the panty,” said Stacy lifting the hem to hook her fingers in her thong. She pushed it down and stepped out of the garment. “It ruins the smooth line of the material.”
“Now your camel toes really show. I can even make out your clit,” said Portia.
“Underwear is pointless. Besides you’d never find it once they rip it off you. Last year, the men started wearing our panties as head bands,” said Traci looking back at Stacy.
“All done,” asked Portia finishing up Traci’s paint job? “Easily my best work.”
“Let me see,” asked Traci. “No one’s ever painted my asshole before.”
“Here,” said Portia handing Traci a mirror.
“Fucking awesome, absolutely fucking awesome, Portia, you’re the Martha Stewart of asshole decoration,” said Traci. “It makes me want to eat my own butt.”
“Thank you, Traci,” said Portia putting the body paint aside and wiping her hands on a towel. “You look terrific as always, Stacy. That dress looks like it was made for you. Who’s the designer?”
“Olivia Matrice, who’s she?” asked Stacy reading the card that identified the donors of the third costume of the day as she turned to view her profile. It wasn’t a designer Stacy was familiar with.
“She’s new. Leslie discovered her and is helping her break into the business,” said Traci stepping into an identically cut dress in a different color. “Zip me, please.”
All the hostesses would be wearing identical dresses but in a half dozen different colors. Traci was wearing red and Portia black. The style was incredibly simple. What made the dresses spectacular was the way the material hugged the body.
“Drugs, anyone,” asked Carole, the regional director of Women In Harm’s Way as she entered the room. Carole, a tall brunette Stacy took to be in her forties was already dressed in her clinging Olivia Matrice. She was carrying two baskets. One contained phials of pills and the other bottles of mineral water.
“What’s the pharmacist prescribing,” asked Traci?
“Ecstasy, cocaine, Vicodin, and for the really adventurous, crystal meth,” said Carole offering the basket to the three.
“Just E for me,” said Stacy taking two tablets and a bottle of water.
“X for me too,” said Portia accepting the pills from Carole.
“Well, since everyone says crystal meth is very dangerous and habit forming, I’ll give it a try,” said Traci taking one of the packets of crystal from the basket. A moment later she took another one. “I don’t want to run out of energy as long as there is a hard cock left in my great grandfather’s lake home.”
“Whoa,” said Stacy stepping into her shoes and finding her balance. The two-inch platform and five and a half inch heel raised her to well over six feet. The ceiling seemed very close.
“These shoes are a mind trip,” said Traci.
“I hope I don’t fall and break a leg,” said Portia.
“If you fall on the floor, a man, probably more than one, will fall on top of you,” said Traci giving herself a final check in the mirror.
“We look terrific,” said Portia as the three girls stood side-by-side facing the mirror holding hands.
“Shoes and dress, no hose or underwear, that’s what I call basic,” said Stacy.
“Those fuckers are getting their money’s worth,” said Traci.
“I plan on screwing my brains out tonight,” said Stacy. “I am a desperately horny lioness who intends to prey on the males of my species as they preyed on me this afternoon.”
“I will play the role of a post modern feminist doing research on how men of wealth, power, and position objectify a woman’s body treating her as a thing for their pleasure, not a real person. I’m going to have to screw as many as possible to have a decent statistical sample,” said Portia.
“I am just a blushing bride-to-be having one last desperate orgiastic fling before settling down into being the supportive and faithful wife of an ambitious young politician,” said Traci.
Moments later, the three were standing on the landing with the other hostesses receiving final instructions from Carole. The thirty-two hostesses had just posed for a group photograph.
“This is it, girls. Tonight is our last chance to garner support for a wonderful charity. It’s very important each donor leaves, feeling he got excellent value for his gift,” said Carole.
“We’re ready,” said several of the girls energized by the ingestion of drugs.
“Now, Leslie insists everyone stay in control until dinner and the presentation is over. So no under the table blow jobs until it’s done,” said Carole.
“How about hand jobs?” asked someone?
“Okay, as long as they’re not too obvious,” said Carole. “But no climbing under the table.”
“How do we know when to let it all hang out,” asked Traci?
“There will be a brief dance performance at the end of the formal presentation. As soon as it is done, the real party starts. Remember, the word no is not part of your vocabulary this evening.”

***

“Has this been a terrific weekend or what,” shouted Leslie from the podium? The audience loud applause indicated they agreed.
The great hall of Moynahan Castle was as Stacy remembered it. It was designed after a royal hunting lodge in Scotland where English nobility dined after the hunt. Stacy could imagine drunken lords and their bare breasted ladies consuming the day’s kill. Given what was about to happen, the only thing missing was a pack of dogs eating scraps under the table.
From somewhere, Stacy recalled the Moynahan fortune was founded on lumber and wood pulp. There were still Moynahan pulp mills in Canada but the family had sold its interest years ago.
Everything was splendidly rustic. The largest moose head, Stacy had ever seen, adorned the end of the room. The floor was polished New Hampshire granite covered by wine colored oriental rugs. The walls were dark chestnut paneling harvested before the blight consigned the nation’s magnificent chestnut trees to extinction. Stacy wondered how much longer the castle would stay in Moynahan family hands.
Most of the enormous weekend lodges built by Traci’s great grandfather’s generation had been donated to conservation land banks or turned into condominium clubhouses. With its large reserve of forest and superb lakefront, it was doubtlessly worth millions. That reminded Stacy one day she would have to make similar decisions about the Todd’s estate and she had been too long between visits to her grandfather.
“I can’t wait to have you,” whispered Larry, the man seated to Stacy’s right. She had just finished jacking him off under the table. She was considering asking the waiter for a fresh napkin given that she had just wiped his semen on her’s. It had joined the ejaculate of Stewart, the man seated to her left. Stacy’s countenance reflected her animal lust as she daintily licked her fingers.
“You are so fucking hot. That was incredible,” said Larry marveling at her skill and the passion that drove it.
“You have my friend, Portia, to thank for that. She taught me the hand job is our most underrated sex act. Right Portia?” said Stacy.
“Definitely, Stacy and I spent hours practicing with two friends to perfect our technique,” said Portia who was seated nearby. Moments before, Portia’s hands had been covered by the reproductive fluids of her dinner companions.
“I would have to stay it was time well spent,” said Larry. “I can’t recall a better hand job.”
“Nor can I,” added Stewart. “Who were these lucky friends?”
“Monk and Les, two fellow students, it was awfully nice of them to allow us to use their penises as learning tools,” said Stacy.
“If I’d known, you could have used mine,” said Doug, Portia’s dinner partner and the overweight businessman who had been with Stacy and Traci that morning.
“I’m sure you have more important things to do than sit around our condo letting us play with your dicks,” said Portia enjoying flirting with the older men.
“Wrong,” said Tony, Portia’s other dinner partner. Tony’s double dose of his erectile dysfunction drug had already restored his tumescence. He was finding it difficult to resist his desire to carry Portia off to a quiet place where he could mount and fuck her until exhaustion.
“You actually practiced your hand job techniques,” asked Stewart reaching underneath the table to feel Stacy’s warm sex. Stewart was having a difficult time believing Stacy and Portia had engaged in a systematic effort to improve their skill at manually bringing a male to climax. His workaholic schedule permitted only occasional intercourse with his wife who took far more interest in their two young children than pleasing her husband.
“Yes, we used the Kama Sutra, a very excellent book on Tantric yoga, and several documents we googled from the Internet as source materials. We believe there is a fundamental difference in approach between a good hand job and a good blow job or even a fuck,” said Portia.
“Not to mention, the bottles of hand lotion we went through,” said Stacy surprised at how much she had been enjoying her dinner table conversation with men her father’s age. She had thought the first part of the evening would be tedious.
“Portia’s a genius when it comes to sex and painting. I can’t wait to show everyone how she decorated my asshole,” whispered Traci to her dinner partners.
“I can’t wait either,” said her dinner partner as he moved his fingers over her bare wet sex.
“What makes a hand job different,” asked Larry?
“The human hand is one of nature’s most versatile tools,” said Stacy holding up her hand and flexing her fingers. It can apply pressure in a highly sensitive fashion; but you must be able to sense and interpret the biological feedback it receives from the male organ.”
“Fingers are ideal for working from the base of the testicles where the frenum anchors the scrotum to the very tip of the penis in long even strokes,” said Portia taking both her partner’s penises in her hands and squeezing the tip. “But I believe it is the way the fingers apply pressure to the very tip of the cockhead that make the critical difference.”
“Skillfully applied pressure motivates the ejaculate to spring forth through the urethra at warp speed. We believe a good hand job results in greater production of semen than its sister the beloved blowjob and even the holy grail of vaginal and anal intercourse,” said Portia sounding very clinical and authoritative.
“I like a little ass play myself,” said Doug.
“That’s what the other hand is for, Doug. However, not at dinner,” said Portia laughing.
The clanging of Leslie’s spoon against the side of her wine glass interrupted the discussion and returned everyone’s hands to top of the table and eyes to the podium.
The crowd of roughly a hundred did not begin to make the room appear crowded. They’d responded to Leslie’s question with an enthusiastic roar of agreement. Sexual anticipation was evident as the men hungrily eyed the hostesses. Everyone sensed the serious part of the banquet was almost over.
The evening had begun at 6:00 when each of the hostesses descended the stairs to be greeted by the two donors assigned by lottery as her dinner table companions. This was intended to make sure the sexes interacted. Leslie was aware of the possibility the men would group together on one side of the room and the women the other. Her solution was to assign each hostess to two men she was to remain with until after dinner and they had screwed her at least once.
“Stacy,” announced Carole when she appeared as the top of the landing. Waiting at the bottom were Stewart and Larry. They looked awfully pleased as Stacy carefully navigated the steps in her platform heels. During the cocktail hour, they talked freely about themselves.
Stewart was the co-founder of a software firm whose recent initial public offering had made him an instant billionaire. He was married to the woman who helped him start Orion Software. His wife had recently stopped working to have their second child. Stewart was younger than the others, in better shape, and proving more aggressive
“Call me next week, Stacy. We can go to dinner,” said Stewart slipping his business card in her tiny purse. His hand gently squeezed her bottom as he made his offer.
“I’d like that,” lied Stacy thinking there was no way she was going to become involved with another married man. Mike Cabreeze was enough of a problem.
Larry was older than Stewart. He looked to be in his late forties. He managed a $130billion mutual fund for Boston’s largest investment firm. After Stacy informed him she was a Harvard student, he had queried her closely about the admissions process. His daughter graduated high school the next year and hoped to attend an Ivy League college.
“Nancy plans to apply at Harvard but she thinks she has a better chance at Dartmouth because of lacrosse, Dartmouth’s more of a jock school,” said Larry showing Stacy a picture of a honey blonde girl holding a lacrosse stick in one hand and her helmet in the other.
Looking at the picture of the smiling high school junior only a few years younger than her, Stacy though it odd her father’s hand was slowly moving up her leg. At the moment, it was only inches from home base.
“I’ve heard that about Dartmouth,” said Stacy encouraging him by placing her hand on his and moving it to her bare sex pressing it against her growing warmth and wetness.
“God, you feel hot,” said Larry his fingers exploring her sex. “Of course, Natalie and I will be supportive no matter where she winds up.”
“That’s important. College admissions are difficult. I was a legacy which made it easier,” said Stacy opening her legs slightly to make herself more accessible.
“I can’t wait until this is over. I’m going to fuck you right here on this table,” whispered Larry in her ear.
“I’d like that,” said Stacy placing her hands on both men’s crotch and squeezing gently.
The evening had begun sedately with cocktails and finger food on the terrace over looking the lake. It was just cool enough to make the hostesses nipples spring to attention. At precisely 7:00, a gong had summoned them inside to the great hall for dinner. Seating was arranged in a long rectangle. One end of the rectangle was elevated and contained the podium.
A string quartet played classical music during dinner. Platters of venison, wild bore, and game birds along with vegetarian dishes were brought to the diners.
“Are you a meat eater,” asked Larry offering Stacy a plate of rare venison?
“Yes, I love meat, as long as it’s rare,” said Stacy taking a portion.
“I’ll like to buy you the best steak in Boston,” whispered Stewart in Stacy’s year.
“I’d love that,” said Stacy smiling as she recalled Carole’s dictum to agree to anything and everything but forget it on the drive home.
Following dinner, Leslie had made a short slide presentation on how money from last year’s golf outing was used to improve Women In Harm’s Way. Their donations had funded capital improvements to several shelters the charity operated in New England.
Leslie then introduced Grace as one of the women who had been helped by Women In Harm’s Way.
“Statistics are important and I’m sure we all want our donations to be spent where they will do the most good. But numbers alone don’t convey the human side of the good that’s being done. Tonight, someone who has been helped by your donations has prepared a multi-media presentation that speaks to the heart of the issue. I would like to introduce Grace Broadhurst, a woman of courage and talent,” said Leslie.
A petite brunette dressed in an Olivia Matrice stood up and walked slowly to the podium where she and Leslie exchanged kisses. The lights dimmed. A large screen behind the podium displayed the title, One Woman’s Journey by Grace Broadhurst.
Stacy recognized Grace as one of the hostesses she had met on the golf course. She and Traci had been exchanged for Grace and her partner. When she last saw Grace that morning, she was kneeling naked on the green with Doug’s belly towering over her and his fat cock in her mouth.
“My name’s Grace Broadhurst and Women in Harm’s Way saved my life. I’m thirty-three years old and I have two children, Michelle and Justin. They’re both home with my new husband and best friend, Charles. I have to thank Charles for his support in creating what you are going to see tonight and encouraging me to be here this weekend.”
Stacy winced at the mention of husband as best friend. Portia’s my best friend thought Stacy and my husband is going to be my husband not a friend. Several slides showed Grace and a handsome light complexioned man being married. The man was tall and powerfully built. The wedding pictures were the usual ones beginning at the church, continuing through the reception and ending with the bride and groom leaving in a limousine.
“Matt and I met our final year at Pitt. We had a June wedding at St. Paul’s in Jamaica Plain. On that beautiful sunny day, I considered myself the luckiest woman in the world. Matt, to me, was everything a husband should be. We went to Aruba on our honeymoon where Matt indulged his hobby for amateur photography. One of our wedding gifts was a video camera.”
The large screen showed a short video clip of a smiling Grace walking along the beach topless waving to the camera. The video wandered to show other topless bathers. Grace had a good figure and the camera lingered over the tiny bikini that barely covered her bottom and sex.
“Matt talked me into going topless on the beach. Of course, I wasn’t the only one.”
Clip over, the next side showed Matt in the uniform of a Pitt football player. The slide changed to show various publicity photos of Matt as a Pitt Panther. The final slide was of Matt shaking hands with a man in a suit as he held up an Atlanta Falcons football jersey.
“Matt played middle linebacker and made All American his senior year. He was drafted in the second round by the Atlanta Falcons.”
That was followed by more publicity stills of Matt as a Falcon. A picture of a large suburban home followed.
“We purchased a beautiful home in Atlanta and I became pregnant with Michelle. It was a happy time. Our social life revolved around the other Falcons and their families,” said Grace as the screen displayed a video clip of very pregnant Grace sitting on the edge of a hot tub. Once again she was topless. A very large muscular black man was seated between Grace and another woman who was also black, topless and pregnant. The black man’s enormous arms reached around both women to cup their milk-swollen breasts.
“Those were our good friends Monique and Oliver. Oliver was an all pro defensive tackle. He and Matt were not only teammates but also good friends. Monique and I delivered within a week of one another. We partied with them and the other Falcon families. The stories you hear about the uninhibited sex life of NFL players, coaches and their wives are true. Our social life was incredibly active and the opportunity to have sex with world class athletes and their beautiful partners was very exciting to a girl from Springfield, Massachusetts.”
The slide showed moved swiftly through a series of images of oversized men dancing and drinking with attractive women. There was a slide of a nude Grace kneeling in front of another giant black man. She was smiling at the camera as she passed her tongue over his cock.
“Matt and I were young and we eagerly joined in the lifestyle until tragedy struck.”
The next slide was from the Atlanta Constitution sports page. The headline read, ‘Broadhurst Hurt in Practice’.
“But our life in the NFL ended unexpectedly. Matt sustained a knee injury that left him barely able to walk let alone play football. I was pregnant with Justin when we sold our home in Atlanta and moved back to Boston. Matt joined a securities firm and began training to get his broker’s license.
He’s certainly good looking enough thought Stacy as a picture of Matt dressed in a business suit appeared on the screen.
“Matt had a difficult time adapting to a world without football. He became depressed and started to drink. That was when he began to take out his frustrations on me,” said Grace as the screen displayed a picture of Grace lying in a hospital bed with a black eye.
“One of the ER nurses at Brigham and Women’s took this the first time he beat me up. She wanted to use it as evidence. She urged me to go to the police but I refused. Matt begged me to forgive him. He blamed the alcohol. He told he would lose his job and our livelihood if he were arrested. And he didn’t hit me again until the following Christmas.”
“Christ,” whispered Stacy under her breath at the next image of what she assumed was Grace. Both her eyes were swollen shut and almost her entire face was bruised. The fingers of her left hand were in some sort of cast.
“How awful,” whispered Larry squeezing Stacy’s thigh.
“He broke my jaw and knocked out two of my teeth. He cracked several ribs and bent my fingers back until they snapped. I drove myself to the hospital after Matt came home drunk Christmas Eve and for no reason beat me senseless. I woke up covered in blood. He was passed out on the kitchen floor. A policeman at the ER took this picture as evidence but I foolishly refused to sign a complaint. The head nurse told me if I didn’t divorce Matt, the next time I might as well bypass the ER and go directly to the morgue. That was where women who stayed with batterers ended up.”
The slide changed to what Stacy assumed was a barbecue in Grace’s backyard. It was a typical suburban scene of Matt standing at the grill with his arm around Grace. Both were smiling at the camera. There were several other couples near by.
“I threatened to leave Matt unless he sought help. He joined a theraphy group for batterers and for two years he behaved. Matt resumed his love for photography and I was his model.”
The next several slides were of Grace posed in what Stacy considered glamour shots. She had not lost her figure in spite of having two children. The images began with Grace in a white nightgown but quickly changed to her lying naked in front of the fireplace.
Stacy recalled one of the girls in her school had gone to a photographer who specialized in pictures of wet lipped females dressed in revealing negligees. Her pictures had also ended in total nudity.
“Remember when Kendall Crawford had her glamour pictures made,” whispered Traci? “Her parents like to have died.”
“They grounded her for a month,” said Stacy.
“If there are any pictures of you like that, I would love to have a copy,” whispered Stewart.
“They’re aren’t. Traci and I went to high school together. One of our classmates had a sleazy professional photographer make revealing shots of her. She brought them to school to show her best friend but somebody stole them from her locker. The thief scanned the nude ones and emailed them to everyone including the faculty,” said Stacy recalling that Stacy Does Cambridge made Grace’s videos seem very tame.
“Must have caused a stir,’ said Stewart.
“It was all we talked about for a month,” said Stacy. And they weren’t as explicit as Grace’s.”
“When Matt asked me to pose with our collection of adult toys, I readily agreed. I was so pleased he was controlling his anger, I would have done anything to keep him happy,” said Grace as the screen showed a totally nude Grace seated in a Queen Anne chair with her legs over the arms. The next shot showed her in the same position but holding a vibrator against her clitoris.
“Do you have a vibrator, Stacy,” whispered Larry?
“Several, and I change batteries often,” said Stacy.
“Our sex life veered in a new direction, but once again, I went along because I liked the sex and it kept Matt happy,” said Grace. Behind her, the screen was filled with a video clip of Grace and another woman engaged in lesbian sex. “That’s my next door neighbor, Christine. Matt loved to film me with other women and even some of his male friends.”
The clip changed to show Grace on all fours being taken from the rear while another man was thrusting his cock in her mouth. Grace was moaning each time they thrust inside her. “That’s Matt’s co-workers, Sam and Cameron, taking me to the moon. As you can tell from my moans, I was having a great time. And our sex life wasn’t all about me.”
On screen, the next clip showed Matt lying back in a chair as Grace and Christine orally shared his large cock.
“I thought Matt and I were beyond our problems. Our children were healthy and growing. Out sex life was exciting. Matt was becoming a successful stockbroker and seemed to have adjusted at last to a life without football. He was coaching Justin’s soccer team. But it was not to last. Memorial Day weekend, we had a fight and he threw me downstairs. I broke my arm.”
A picture of Grace with her arm in a cast filled the screen.
“When I told him I was divorcing him, he threatened to kill me and the children. He said he would drown them in the bathtub while I watched then do the same with me. I was terrified so I didn’t leave. Things went back to the way they were. We joined a swinger’s group in Georgetown that was very active.”
The next slide was of Grace and Matt in a resort swimming pool with several dozen others. Everyone was nude.
“This was taken at an Adult Lifestyle Week in Cabo San Lucas,” said Grace.
The slide show progressed to show Grace and Matt eating dinner, dancing, and having group sex.
“I think everyone here would agree I gave everything to my marriage. I didn’t hold back anything when it came to our sex life. Matt had no reason to be dissatisfied,” said Grace.
“I wish my wife had Grace’s attitude,” said Larry. “Natalie has zero interest in our sex life.”
“All mine cares about are our two children. She’s already plotting to get them into some special pre-school with connections to the Ivy League,” said Stewart.
Once again, a slide of a badly beaten Grace appeared on screen.
“It was soon after we returned from Cabo, Matt put me back in the ER. Something at work made him mad and he decided to take it out on me. Facial contusions and broken ribs along with a crushed nose were my major injuries.”
“Athletes are the worst, especially football players. It’s a violent sport,” said Stewart.
“Thank God the ER nurses overruled me when I lied to the police. I said I had accidentally fallen down the basemen stairs. Irene Casey, a dear sweet woman I’m proud to call my friend, contacted Women In Harm’s Way and they quickly took action. They whisked my children and me away to a safe house. For the first time, I filed a complaint with the police and had Matt arrested. He’s still on probation. There’s a restraining order preventing him from coming within two hundred yards of my family or me. I promised to keep this short so I won’t go into how over a period of several years I found my independence, returned to the workplace and eventually met and married a wonderful man.”
“It’s truly wonderful how Women In Harm’s Way has helped abused wives like Grace,” said Stacy.
The last slide was labeled Charles and Grace. It showed a nude couple. Grace and a man Stacy assumed was her new husband were standing side-by-side smiling at the camera. Although smaller in statue than Grace’s first husband, his cock appeared to be the same size or larger.
“I thank each and every one of you for your support of this wonderful organization,” said Grace concluding her presentation to sustained applause.
“How would you react, Stacy, if you had been Grace,” asked Stewart as everyone was applauding the presentation?
“The first time he hit me, I would have waited until he went to sleep. He’d wake up with me sitting on his chest with my nine-millimeter semi-automatic in his mouth. I wouldn’t pull the trigger immediately. I’d give him a few seconds to realize what was about to happen and pee his pants. I’d want him to be afraid when he died just like I had been afraid when he hit me. Then I’d empty the magazine in his skull,” said Stacy calmly.
“Christ, the way you said that, I believe you’d really do it,” said Larry.
“Stacy is an Olympic markswoman and an expert with both rifles and handguns,” said Portia as the room went dark. “Plus, she’d blow the bastards head off without hesitating.”

***

Stacy sensed movement in the pitch dark. It was an opportunity for Larry and Stewart to feel her up again and they took it. By the time, the drumming began; both men had a forefinger in her vagina. Stacy welcomed the intrusion by inhaling her navel to her spine contracting her vaginal walls as she turned to first Stewart and then Larry to deliver passionate French kisses.
The drums grew louder. A single spotlight suddenly illuminated two black men pounding on several different types of drums establishing a powerful hypnotic rhythm.
A different larger circle in the center of the room suddenly illuminated Leslie Cabot. Five lean black men surrounded her. Leslie was dressed in a rather complicated collection of brightly colored sheer material.
They must be professional dancers decided Stacy noting the zero body fat of the male dancers. They were wearing the minimum, a dance strap that covered their cocks and provided a narrow strip of material separating their muscular buttocks.
“It’s Leslie’s interpretation of Salome’s Dance of the Seven Veils,” whispered Traci. “I hope it goes all right. She’s been rehearsing for weeks.”
“Where are the dancer’s from,” asked Portia feeling an attraction to the well-proportioned male physiques heightened by the way Doug and Tony were running their hands over her body?
“They’re from a company in Boston that’s just starting out. Leslie is going to help them raise money. They are marvelously talented,” said Traci.
Leslie danced slowly and sensuously with the men in the widening circle of light. She must have studied ballet and modern dance decided Stacy watching as Leslie whirled by revealing that underneath the sheer material she was naked. As she danced, her male partners began to remove her costume snatching off a veil as she twirled and spun while the men caressed her increasingly naked body.
Each time, Leslie danced around the room she had less on. Finally she was left naked and alone in the middle of the floor. Stacy realized her nipples and her labia were darkened with make-up.
The male dancers vanished. This is definitely erotic thought Stacy as she watched Leslie spread her legs and masturbate using the beat of the drums to establish a staccato rhythm for inserting several fingers in her vagina as she reached behind to penetrate her anus.
Seconds later, the male dancers returned fully nude and erect to the bright circle of light. A cock ring maintained their erections. Long sleek ebony penises swayed over Leslie as she lay on the floor stroking her clitoris as she finger fucked. She lifted her body arching her back to bring her lips to kiss each penis.
“Christ, this is so fucking erotic,” said Traci as her partners ran their hands over her half naked body.
Stacy lifted her hips slightly as she pulled her dress up to her waist. She deftly squeezed lotion on the palm of each hand then reached under the table to take hold of Stewart and Larry’s cocks.
“You are so fucking wet,” breathed Larry in her ear as his fingers along with Stewarts entered her vagina.
“Oh God, that’s good,” moaned Stacy as two sets of fingers raked across her G-spot.
“I want to feel your bare tits,” said Stewart taking hold of the zipper in back of Stacy’s dress.
She obliged by leaning forward to allow him to pull the zipper down to the center of her back. Stewart and he pulled the dress off her shoulders and arms exposing her breasts. Around her in the dark, she sensed the other hostesses were being stripped. Stacy climaxed as the men’s mouth captured her nipples while they fingered her sex.
“You came,” asked Larry correctly interpreting the muscular contractions of the walls of her vagina?
“Yes, and I plan to keep on coming,” said Stacy allowing her contractions to continue.
“You are certainly programmed different from any woman I’ve ever fucked,” said Stewart watching as Leslie moved her mouth rapidly from one black cock to another maintaining the rhythm of the drums.
“Different as in better,” asked Stacy?
“Different as in fantastic,” said Stewart.
The drums stopped and the lighting changed to show something that resembled a trapeze harness being lowered from the ceiling. As soon as it reached the dancers they lifted Leslie up and put her in the harness. She was suspended in the air, spread like a starfish on her back when one of the dancers stepped between her outstretched legs and impaled her without hesitation.
The cadence of the drums increased until the man’s body was a blur. Then it ceased and another dancer took his place. Once they had all had their individual turns, they began to work in pairs. The crown of Leslie’s head hung toward the floor as the dancer filled her throat with his cock. A second dancer slipped his penis in her vagina. Both responded to the drums fucking her with abandon as they pulled and kneaded her breasts.
“I hope they don’t fuck her to death,” said Doug as Portia’s stroked his lotion covered cock.
“Leslie can handle it. She’s enjoying herself,” said Traci.
“You girls have redefined the word slut for me,” said Doug pinching Portia’s nipple.
“Super sluts,” said Portia hissing her pleasure as his nails crushed her tender flesh.
“Yeah, super sluts, that’s it,’ said Doug twisting Portia’s nipples as he pinched them. The way Portia squirmed in pain increased his excitement. “Does that hurt, Portia?”
“Yes,” breathed Portia determined to draw pleasure from her agony.
“Want me to stop,” asked Doug?
“No,” said Portia bringing her lips to Doug’s.
Abruptly, the drumming ended. The room went dark for a brief moment. A spotlight illuminated the two massive male figures who had just entered the room. A gasp went up from the crowd.
“I feel faint,” said Traci licking her lips as she stared at their manhood.
Stacy immediately recognized Ellis. But she did not recognize the black man standing with him. Both men were erect and enormous. The black man was approximately the same height and build of Ellis. He also possessed a cock that rivaled Ellis’. The spotlight followed the men as they moved into the center of the room.
When they reached a certain point, Leslie became illuminated. She remained suspended in the harness; but she was no longer spread wide like a starfish. Bent double, her bottom was pointed toward the floor. Her arms and the soles of her feet were directed toward the ceiling
“Ever taken a cock that big,” asked Stewart?
“Yes,” said Stacy unwilling to take her eyes off Leslie.
“Did it hurt,” asked Stewart?
“Yes, but in a good way,” said Stacy. “My asshole and pussy were sore the next day.”
The drum cadence was slow and muted as the two giants approached Leslie. They began by slowly running their hands over her body. They weren’t gentle as they twisted and kneaded her breasts causing her to cry out in pain.
As the drumming gained strength, Ellis angled Leslie allowing his partner to place the end of his cock just inside her vagina. The partner then tilted Leslie permitting Ellis to place his penis against the center of her sphincter.
“Hope they don’t split her open,” said Stewart.
“They won’t,” said Stacy.
There was an increase in tempo then a brief hesitation at the end of which both men simultaneously forced their penises inside Leslie. Leslie sounded a loud cry of pain and joy as both cocks reached maximum depth and the two pair of grapefruit sized testicles slapped together.
“This is fucking awesome,” said Portia watching transfixed as both men began to slam their manhood into Leslie’s orifices. Once again, as the drum cadence grew, the men quickened their pace until their bodies were a blur.
All of a sudden, the two climaxed filling Leslie’s holes. They withdrew at the same time. Two thin streams of semen made twin puddles on the floor.
“That’s an incredible amount of jism,” said Stewart.
“It’s stagecraft,” said Stacy realizing that some form of trickery must be involved.
The lights went out. When they came back on, Leslie was standing by herself in the center of the room. The two men and the sling were gone. She bowed to each table as the room applauded her performance.

***

As Leslie exited the DJ queued the Black Eyed Peas hit, ‘Let’s Get It Started In Here’. The wait staff arrived carrying enough exercise mats to cover the floor of the rectangle formed by the tables.
Stacy stood up, reached back to fully unzip her dress allowing it to fall to the floor.
“Let’s get naked,” said Stacy unbuckling Stewart’s belt. Around her, clothes were being rapidly shed. Moments later, she was kneeling between both men with their cocks in her hand. They stood close as she formed her lips over both working her tongue from one to the other with a passion that increased their arousal.
The men leaned down to grab and tease her nipples.
“Skull fuck me, Larry,” said Stacy flattening her tongue and opening her mouth wide. Using his buttocks for leverage, she forced his cock into her throat.
“I’m in her fucking throat,” whispered Larry to Stewart. “I’m actually in her fucking throat.”
“Now you, Stewart,” said Stacy pulling Larry’s penis out of her mouth. Saliva cascaded over her lower lip down on to her breasts.
“Shit, she’s incredible,” said Stewart when he felt the walls of Stacy’s throat pressing in on his cock.
“You two ready to fuck me now,” asked Stacy?
They answered by lifting her over the table onto the mats. Stacy pushed the larger Larry to the floor then quickly mounted him easily sliding his manhood into her well-lubricated vagina.
“The backdoor is open,” said Stacy looking over her shoulder at Stewart as she reached back to spread her buttocks using her glutes to flex her sphincter open and closed.
Mission accomplished concluded Stacy when she felt Stewart’s cock force its way past her sphincter. He drove his penis inward until his balls landed on the top of Larry’s cock. Carole had suggested the hostesses engage in double penetration at the outset to set the anything goes tone for the rest of the evening.
“Fuck the shit out of me,” hissed Stacy giving free reign to her lust as she had so many times at the Posse’s apartment. Sounding a cry of triumph, Stacy contracted the muscles of her vagina and rectum simultaneously as she pulled her nipples out and twisted them.
The piles of naked bodies on the mat increased as others joined.
I am now officially an orgiast realized Portia as she rocked back and forth with Doug’s cock in her pussy and Larry’s in her ass. Suddenly, there was a cock in her face. Without hesitation, she took it into her mouth. It stayed for a while then moved away no doubt seeing another oral cavity to sample.
It wasn’t too long before Stewart climaxed in her ass and rolled off her. Larry lasted only a minute longer.
Stacy grabbed a champagne bottle off the table and removed the cork. She placed her thumb over the top, shook it, and then inserted it in her vagina as she removed her thumb. She felt the gaseous liquid explode into her.
Kneeling down on her haunches, she positioned her opening in front of Stewart’s mouth.
“Open up,” said Stacy pulling his mouth to her sex.
Caught in the sheer depravity of the moment, Stewart placed his mouth over Stacy’s opening as she sprayed champagne. Empty, she stepped up on the table grabbing another bottle of champagne. She shook the bottle then refilled her vagina.
“Anyone else wants a champagne pussy cocktail,” asked Stacy as she danced on the table?
There were dozens of takers. Stacy stepped over women and men coupling indiscriminately on the mat. Stacy grabbed another champagne bottle and stuck the neck in her ass. She bent over in a wide stance shaking her butt to the music causing the freshly opened bottle to spew into her rectum. She removed the bottle keeping her sphincter closed as she danced to where she was directly in front of Doug who had just released in Portia’s pussy.
“Open up, Doug,” said Stacy. “And drink from the dark well of my ass.”
Doug placed his open mouth on Stacy’s butthole as she let the gasified contents escape in a rush.
“Suck my hole dry, Douglas,” encouraged Stacy as she felt Doug drinking down the content of her rectum.
Stacy moved down the table dancing provocatively as Doug turned to Kendra to share his mouthful of champagne. At some point, several men grabbed Stacy off the table pulling her down to the mat in a pile of naked writhing bodies. For the next three hours, Stacy was never without a cock in one of her orifices.
It was later Carole organized sex games. Her and Leslie’s goal was to make sure each of the sixty four men got to sample all of the women. Portia and Traci were first in what Carole called the Sixty Nine Lineup. Sixteen pairs of females were lying on the mat in a single line. Portia started in the superior position licking Traci’s clit as a fluid coated penis slid into her vagina. Someone was at Portia’s rear, alternating his cock between her vagina, rectum and Traci’s mouth. A surprisingly fully clothed Carole screamed, “Switch,” every two minutes and the men would shift over to the next pair.
“Suck it bitch,” said the man pulling his manhood out of the hostess’s anus and presenting it to Stacy’s lips.
This is about as close to a Roman orgy as I can imagine thought Stacy as she accepted the cock in her mouth. She had no idea who was on top of her, whose cock she was sucking, or who at the moment was pounding his prick in her pussy.
The men powered by the most powerful erectile dysfunction drugs modern science could create were showing no sign of wearing out. Body fluids covered the participants. Sweat, semen, spit, and female secretions blended together created a slippery coating that allowed the naked bodies to glide over one another. The air became fetid and the overpowering stench of human lust filled the room clinging to their bodies.
“Open our mouth,” said the man kneeling at Portia’s head. Moments before he had formed his lips over Traci’s well-fucked anus and sucked out the contents. Portia knew what was coming but did not hesitate to comply.
Caligula and Tiberius would have felt right at home here thought Portia as she felt the warm liquid fill her mouth.
On the other end of the sixty-nine, Traci regularly found her mouth full of dick freshly withdrawn from Portia’s open sphincter. Traci considered ass to mouth action her greatest turn on. There was something about sucking a cock that seconds before had been buried deep in another girl’s rectum that brought out the depraved savage in her. She along with the other hostesses reveled in the depravity of the orgy as each competed to gain their pleasure in the most perverted and animalistic fashion.
Only total physical exhaustion ended the orgy. “Can’t fuck any more,” said the man on top of Stacy before he passed out. Thanks to a coating of body fluids, she managed to squirm out from under him. A survey of the room revealed no movement. The mat was covered with naked bodies huddled together against the coolness of the night.
Stacy struggled to her feet using a table for support. Dawn shown through the enormous stained glass windows. Tired to the bone, dizzy and slightly nauseated, she looked around for Portia. Unable to locate her, she staggered to her room where she found her and Traci curled up around fat Doug. His bulk left barely enough room in the bed for her to lie down and spoon with Portia. She was asleep in seconds. Before she slept she expressed silent admiration for the ancient Roman’s ability to orgy night after night.
Chapter 42 Laundry Room Experience


“I’m going to sleep for twenty fours hours straight when we get back,” said Stacy sipping her coffee as she drove. It was mid morning Sunday and the two were at the start of the two hour drive back to Cambridge.
“Thank you for getting me invited,” said Portia sleepily. “I had a wonderful time. My sore and overused orifices thank you too.”
“It was absolutely wild. I am totally fucked out. Does your jaw hurt?” asked Stacy flexing her jaw to test its soreness.
“Yes, I need a couple of days off from sucking cock. Monk and Les are going to have to stroke it. My other openings need rest too.”
“Too much cock and pussy in too little time,” said Stacy shaking her head. “But it was for a good cause. We raised over six hundred thousand dollars. I feel like I did something worthwhile.”
“Should we now think of ourselves as prostitutes,” asked Portia?
“Why do you say that,” asked Stacy?
“We had sex for money. That implies prostitution.”
“But we personally didn’t benefit. Women In Harm’s Way did,” said Stacy.
“Most prostitutes have a pimp who benefits from their employment,” said Portia.
“But I repeat, it was for a very worthy cause and all we got out of it were clothes we can’t wear in public. Perhaps, we should go find an ethics professor ask him to clarify our status,” said Stacy.
“He would want to screw us before he would decide,” said Portia.
“Which would only further complicate our situation since having sex with an ethics professor is unethical,” said Stacy.
“We might as well enjoy it while we’re young,” said Portia. “One of these days we’ll get married, move to the burbs and become soccer moms. Our sex lives will be over.”
“There were a few soccer moms present.”
“True, Kendra, my partner on the golf outing, has two kids, a husband, and a house in Lexington. Let me tell you she was very happy to get away from her family for a weekend. Her children are thirteen and fourteen and a handful according to her.”
“So one doesn’t quit just slow down,” said Stacy. “Still, it’s hard to imagine a future husband telling me to enjoy myself as I head off for a weekend of orgiastic sex with strangers, even if it was for a good cause.”
“Apparently it happens more often than one would think. Kendra, a proto-typical stay-at-home mom who works part time wants us to visit them. She and her husband have a fully equipped dungeon in the basement. They’re both sexual submissives and they like to be dominated as a couple.”
“Obviously, Lexington has a lighter side. I wonder if Thoreau got laid by Walden Pond,” said Stacy.
“He probably did but you didn’t make a blog entry in those days describing how good it was for your online readers,” said Portia.
“I wonder if he and Emerson had homosexual relations,” asked Stacy?
“Of course, the philosophy of Transcendentalism occurred to Emerson just as Henry David’s ten incher forced his sphincter,” said Portia. “It was his first transcendental moment.”
“Henry David Thoreau has a ten inch penis. I never heard that,” said Stacy.
“Emerson’s was even larger. He had the biggest prick in Lowell, Massachusetts. It’s on display in the Lowell Museum.”
“You are confusing Emerson with Dillinger, an easy mistake to make,” said Stacy.
“Cock size played an important role in our country’s history beginning with George Washington whose cock head was the model for the Great Seal of the United States.”
“Well, he was a Mason and they do something funny with their cocks. You should write a history book titled Great American Cocks,” said Stacy. “It would be a best seller.”
“A better title might be Pricks Who Changed The Course of History.”
“The homosexual only version could be titled Profiles in Sodomy,” said Stacy. “I understand one of the younger Kennedy boys would be interested in a co-authorship.”
“It is a neglected field of study,” said Portia looking thoughtful.
“So what are Kendra and her submissive hubby looking to do with us,” asked Stacy?
“First we will lunch and discuss limits and safe words. They have two whipping benches where they will be restrained. The husband is into CBT,” said Portia.
“CBT, don’t know that one,” said Stacy.
“Cock and ball torture, per his loving wife, Lloyd adores having his privates stretched and zippered.”
“Zippered, my S&M vocabulary is really lacking. What is meant by zippered?”
“A zipper in the sado-masochistic sense is multiple clothespins connected by a chord or string. Zippers are simple homemade instruments of torture. Imagine I place a clothespin on the loose skin on the inside of your thigh just above your knee. The next clothespin is maybe two inches higher. I continue upward until I reach your labia placing the last one on your clit,” said Portia. “I take another zipper and do the other thigh. Or one can travel from your armpit to your breast with the last one flattening your nipple.”
“Just thinking about it hurts,” said Stacy gently grabbing her breast. “But why the term zipper?”
“Zipper torture is hellishly painful but the moment of truth comes when the dominatrice takes hold of the chord and zips them off all at once. The blood rushes back into the collapsed capillaries and your pain centers all fire together,” said Portia.
“And how do you know this,” asked Stacy.
“My older sister Margaux formed an S&M club at our high school and I was her slave. What a girl will not do to be popular. She and her friends loved to tie me up and experiment with zippers. I can recall screaming my lungs out when they counted to three and off they came. The armpits and the back of the knees were particularly sensitive.”
“I missed a lot being an only child,” said Stacy. “Besides zippers, what else?”
“A collection of whips and canes, ball stretchers, nipple clamps, pretty much the S&M gear you find in the average suburban home. They also plan to video the session,” said Portia.
“So we are going to make them scream,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, if we can work out times we’re both free, I’ll give her a call. It might be fun to spend an afternoon torturing them in the town where the embattled Minutemen stood and fired the shot heard round the world. Say you’ll come along. She invited you, too. Her husband had a thing for young beautiful blondes.”
“Sounds like fun, I’m in if you need another whip arm. Did you get a chance to sample super cock,” asked Stacy. “I never saw Ellis after he and his black buddy double fucked Leslie.”
“Oh yes, I have been meaning to tell you about that. He and his buddy are the reason I might be wearing a diaper for a month. I’m not sure my asshole still closes.”
“You little slut, what happened? Tell me about it,” said Stacy.
“During last night’s orgy I observed a gentleman I recalled fucking earlier that morning having a furtive conversation with Leslie Cabot. His name was Bryan. At least I think that was what he said while hammering his penis in my asshole. He looked very conspiratorial, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.”
“Maybe it was about drugs. There were certainly enough of them on the premises,” said Stacy.
“My first thought too but there was something about his body language that intrigued me. Plus I was curious about what in that den of depravity required a hushed conversation,” said Portia.
“You have a point.”
“They didn’t talk long. Bryan left quickly then came back in five minutes and handed Leslie a piece of paper I took to be a check. Leslie made a cell phone call. There was a little back and forth between Bryan and Leslie as she talked to whoever was on the other end. Call finished she takes the man by the hand and leads him to a door right off the main entrance. He disappears through the door. Leslie pulls out the check, smiles, and kisses it.”
“Perhaps an additional hefty donation to Women In Harm’s Way by someone dutifully impressed with its good work and the way we fucked his brains out.”
“Possibly but that doesn’t explain what was downstairs. Approximately an hour later, Bryan returns and he has that sneaky look men and boys get when they’ve done something wrong but enjoyed the hell out of it, the way my little brother looked after he’d been in the laundry hamper sniffing soiled panties.”
“Nothing gets by you. You’re the female Sherlock Holmes,” said Stacy.
“Thank you. I might add the female Holmes made those observations while sucking the cock of the fattest and drunkest man there,” said Portia. “I was afraid he was going to keel over and crush me.”
“That must have been Doug. He’s a big time real estate developer whose wife does not believe in anal. His was one of the butt holes Traci and I fucked with a strapon cock. Did you massage Doug’s prostate while you fellated him,” asked Stacy?
“Of course, these innocent little fingers stroked his walnut while he complemented my oral and digital efforts with encouraging remarks like, ‘Finger fuck my shithole, you cock sucking pig whore’,” said Portia holding up two fingers.
“Doug’s pillow talk was limited to pig whore, slut and the ever favorite cunt,” said Stacy. “So, your story?”
“Sorry, I digress. I’m afraid I killed the brain cells last night that make my mind function. Having relieved Doug’s testicles of their contents, I found myself sans cock for a moment and took a peek behind the mystery door. There were steps leading to the basement,” said Portia.
“Ah, to the dungeon below,” said Stacy. “I had a feeling there was some bizarre kinky sex happening somewhere in that pile of granite.”
“Not exactly but lets not get ahead of the story. Not wanting to be a nosey guest, I returned to the orgy, located a penis in need of servicing, and got busy working on behalf of Women In Harm’s Way,” said Portia.
“So you never discovered what was below,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, I did discover it later after I had consumed four California slammers, fucked more than my share of donors, and my good manners had dissolved in a cocktail of alcohol, semen and Ecstasy. I saw another man performing the same ritual with Leslie, the only difference being he pulled a roll of bills out of his pocket instead of writing a check. His name was Keith and he was one of the two hunters who enjoyed my favors that afternoon,” said Portia.
“You were the target of Keith’s paintball pellet,” asked Stacy?
“Dead center in my left breast and it hurt like blazes,” said Portia. “The rings magnify the pain of a paintball pellet.”
“Rape in the forest brought out the macho in my hunters,” said Stacy. “The bastards loved it when I begged them not to hurt me.”
“Mine too, they trussed me up until I couldn’t move an inch then whipped my ass until I was screaming my head off before they fucked me,” said Portia.
“Don’t forget the joy of the famed Bangkok Bud Crushers. They may have permanently altered the shape of my nipples. All of the hostesses looked the worse for wear after the hunt. You followed Keith?”
“Not immediately, I was playing one of Carole’s silly sex games and couldn’t follow until it ended. I should have won by the way,” said Portia.
“What was the prize,” asked Stacy?
“It was a multi-functional dildo with a stopper on one end that you could adhere to a tile floor and impale yourself on a column of latex designed to stimulate your G-spot. It also had a long donut-ringed phallus for your anus and a vibrator attachment for your clit. It plugged into a wall socket so you didn’t need batteries.”
“So how did you lose such a treasure,” asked Stacy?
“Carole judged my efforts at performing in the female superior position inferior to that of Suzanne.”
“You could out screw Suzanne any day,” said Stacy. “It must have been a fixed fuck.”
“I don’t think Carole likes Goths,” said Portia.
“Speaking of Carole, as the orgy was ending and even the most powerful of big pharma’s cock hardening drugs could no longer bring our exhausted male donors to erection, I saw her sitting in the corner crying her eyes out. She was naked too, which was a little odd since every time I saw her before that she was fully dressed. I asked her if anything was wrong but she burst into tears and rushed past me up the stairs.”
“Therein lies a sad story. Several of the hostesses including myself found the Regional Director a little bossy and pushy when it came to directing how we were screwing the men. She actually told me to lock my ankles and pump harder while I was fucking the one they called Red. I informed her that I had been having intercourse for over a decade and Red’s girth precluded my ankles from reaching that far,” said Portia.
“Traci told me Carole used to be an activities director on a cruise ship,” said Stacy.
“That’s a bossy job by definition. Anyhow, we hostesses having tired of Carole’s dictatorial ways decided to have some fun with her. You’re right about Carole being clothed and staying vertical. While we were all getting our brains fucked out, Carole’s knees stayed in contact with one another. Traci and I along with Kendra and several others developed an action plan,” said Portia.
“Carole’s not bad. She could stand to lose a few pounds. She has beautiful eyes,” said Stacy. “She mentioned something about my joining the board of Women’s In Harm’s Way once I graduate. So what did you and your crew do to the poor woman?”
“Eight of us grabbed her, stripped her, and tied her up in a very exposed and vulnerable position. We meant no harm just having a little girl fun. Those nylon straps with the Velcro fasteners that Leslie provided the men for the paintball hunt work extremely well,” said Portia.
“Tell me about it. My captors practically broke my back bending me over a log,” said Stacy.
“In less time, than a cowboy can rope and throw a steer we had Carole’s ankles and wrists tied behind the back of her neck. We also gagged her,” said Portia. “Her position occasioned some very deep finger fucking by the eight of us.”
“An uncomfortable position if one is not seriously into yoga. So she was exposed and vulnerable while surrounded by drunken horny males. Sounds erotic. If I didn’t hurt all over, I’d get horny. Big deal, she was forced to do what the rest of us had been doing all day. Seems only fair. I assume she was penetrated.”
“Yes, we recruited all available males so Carole could pull a train for charity. It was two and sometimes three cocks at once. She was not a good sport about it either. But her crying and blubbering only served to encourage the rape pack we assembled.”
“Men love rape and a good rape requires an unwilling female. Nothing hardens a cock quicker than a sobbing woman begging not to be violated. So what was Carole’s problem?” said Stacy.
“Leslie happened to notice what was happening but only after Carole had been fucked more and less senseless. She made us untie the poor woman then proceeded to explain Carole had been a committed lesbian since she was in middle school.”
“Oops, you did a bad thing. But what the hell, most lesbians can deal with the occasional penis,” said Stacy.
“Carole had been on a strict no cock diet since birth. She’s married her lesbian partner last year. Since she was wearing a wedding ring, I assumed she was married to a man and was cock aware. It turns out Carole is a dedicated rug muncher that until last night had never been defiled by pecker snot to put it crudely.”
“Pecker snot, that is crude and disgusting especially since my stomach is still recovering from all the rich food and pecker snot I consumed last night,” said Stacy.
“Well, c’est la guerre. I’m not going to get in a funk about it. How were we to know the forty something woman advising us how to screw our partners was a virgin? Perhaps, we opened a whole new world for her and she’ll become a down and dirty whore like the rest of us.”
“It would serve her right. It was an honest mistake and you have nothing to feel guilty about. Can we get back to your encounter with super cock which I assumed occurred in a vast dungeon under Moynahan Castle?”
“Actually it was the basement laundry room. I am truly brain dead this morning. Where was I? Oh yes, it was ten or fifteen minutes before I placed my unsteady high heel on those dark stairs where I almost fell and broke my neck. Do you know how long it has been since I wore a pair of fuck me pumps?” said Portia.
“How long?”
“Never, last night was my first time.”
“Until I started going out with Mike, they were new to me,” said Stacy.
“You didn’t have a problem. You were dancing on the table like Anne Miller,” said Portia.
“Who’s Anne Miller?”
“Famous Hollywood dancer, well before our time,” said Portia.
“Why couldn’t I have chosen a roommate that didn’t know everything,” said Stacy?
“You didn’t choose me. The Harvard Housing computer paired us,” said Portia.
“A marriage made in circuitry,” said Stacy reaching out to squeeze Portia’s hand then bring it to her lips and kissing it.
“When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I heard noises.”
“What kind of sounds,” asked Stacy?
“Couldn’t tell at first but when I got closer, it was a man moaning,” said Portia.
“So Leslie set up a dungeon for donors with a taste for S&M. Why am I not surprised? Who was the dominatrix?” said Stacy.
“My thoughts at first but I turned out to be wrong,” said Portia. “As I got closer I went into stealth mode and removed my stiletto heels. They are very noisy on a stone floor. When I peered around the corner and discovered the source of the moaning I was shocked, surprised and completely taken back by the depravity I witnessed. It almost destroyed my faith in human nature.”
“So tell me about this depravity. You know of my keen interest in the sinful nature of mankind,” said Stacy.
“There in an alcove was Mr. Super Cock and his black buddy performing homosexual acts with Keith who apparently paid Leslie for the privilege of double sodomy,” said Portia. “An individual I might add whose cock had been in yours truly orifices that very day when he captured me during paintball.”
“You already knew Ellis appeared in gay porn. Didn’t we watch the DVD of Raw Recruits we ordered from the Internet while we shared the enormous Rod Stryker double dildo we bought at the adult store on Mystic Avenue?” said Stacy.
“Yes but there is a difference from watching it on screen and seeing the real Ellis Trabert AKA Rod Stryker working the tortured asshole of Keith or whatever his name is,” said Portia.
“I fucked a Keith yesterday. A not very large guy with a four incher and balls the size of marbles,” said Stacy.
“Yes, Keith the animal who pounded the living shit out of my pussy then sounded his war cry of eek as he unleashed a torrent of molten semen into my quivering womanhood,” said Portia laughing.
“He insisted on calling me Mommie when he was screwing me in the ass. So Keith is on the down low. You said there was the black performer with Ellis?” said Stacy.
“Yes, an Afro-American who I gather had also appeared in gay porn. They had decorated the walls with still pictures of themselves,” said Portia. “There was one of those combination DVD and television players showing a film they made together. Twinks being cornholed by over endowed muscle men must be the predominant gay fantasy.”
“Twinks, what’s a twink?”
“Skinny young males who lack body hair, usually blonde and not too smart, the gay equivalent of the blonde bimbo,” said Portia.
“Ergo I am a female version of a twink, being a blonde bimbo,” said Stacy.
“While you are a blonde, you are definitely not a bimbo,” said Portia.
“Doug, fat Doug, kept referring to me in that fashion,” said Stacy.
“In spite of his money, Doug is a low class cretin. No wonder his wife won’t let him use her backdoor,” said Portia. “I was absolutely shocked when I woke up this morning with my arm draped over his fat gut.”
“We should find out who she is and seduce her. We could get her drunk then let Monk and Les savage her anus for the video camera. Their Prince Alberts would wreck a virgin asshole. We could send Doug a copy showing him how real men perform anal sex. Sorry for the interruption. Please continue your story of the fascinating adventure you had while I was upstairs entertaining gentlemen for a worthy cause,” said Stacy.
“If by entertaining, you mean dancing naked on a table stopping in front of each gentleman so he could lick your private parts and drink champagne out of your pussy or ass then I am delinquent in not joining you,” said Portia.
“No matter, what transpired? Who was the black man?” asked Stacy.
“His film name is Dick Black. God knows what his real name is. I bet I can find it in the WEB,” said Portia.
“Dick Black, how devastatingly original. Was his dick black?” said Stacy.
“Yes, and thick, long, and beautiful,” said Portia. “He and Super Cock are a matched pair except for color.”
“My heart and pussy just skipped a beat at the thought. Please continue with your narrative.”
“Unnoticed I watched and for obvious reasons practiced self abuse. Keith was being placed in different positions by these two body builder types and fucked like a rag doll in both ass and mouth. It was awesome to say the least watching those two muscular giants putting the stones to poor little Mommie loving Keith. It was not long before he orgasmed covering the floor with several gallons of steaming spunk. Fortunately there was a drain trap in the floor that allowed the flood of jism to escape into the aquifer. No doubt the well water of Lake Winnipesaukee residents will taste different for a few days,” said Portia.
“Your tale is the stuff of oral legends. You should hand it down through the generations so they can sing of your odyssey around the campfires,” said Stacy.
“Keith exhausted by his ordeal limped off back upstairs. I hid in a dark corner as he passed.”
“Now for the climax of our story,” said Stacy.
“Keith having left, our two heroes performed a ritual cleansing. They were busily washing each other’s cocks when I appeared out of the dark and demanded a fuck,” said Portia.
“What did you say,” asked Stacy?
“Please sirs, have pity on a desperately horny slut. I’ve been upstairs fucking needle dicks all evening. I crave entry into my openings of your great and powerful members. I am a friend and follower of the super whore, Lady Stacia Todd,” said Portia.
“You didn’t really say that,” asked Stacy?
“It was close, not exact.”
“How did they react,” asked Stacy?
“They were dumbfounded so I asked if I could wash their cocks for them. They were standing by a large sink. The place must have been the castle’s laundry at one time,” said Portia.
“And they agreed,” asked Stacy?
“Carpe diem, before they could say yea or nay I seized the moment and stepped up to the sink, grabbed the bar of fine French soap and proceeded to work up a lather. Men, even gay porn stars, adore having their dicks washed.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I encounter a dirty dick,” said Stacy.
“A thorough washing followed by drying with a soft towel and they both agreed to fulfill my request provided Leslie did not send another faggot wantabe their way. I dropped to my knees in gratitude. Rod and Dick mistaking my gesture of appreciation for a desire for oral sex placed their cock heads at my lips. For the next several minutes, this maid was skull fucked unmercifully,” said Portia. “The capacity of the human throat to expand is amazing.”
“But you persevered,” said Stacy.
“Trenton girls who can’t deep throat are declared surplus. They are chained to beds in crack houses and never heard from again. Using techniques learned at rest stops along the New Jersey Turnpike, I gave each mega dick a throat massage that so impressed them they decided to accommodate my unnatural desires.”
“You took them both at once,” asked Stacy? “You greedy little tramp. I would have been more than happy to help.”
“Unfortunately I had neither time nor means to contact you. They started slow with one cock in my pussy and one in my mouth. I could swear that when they both penetrated to the max, their dick heads bumped noses in my GI tract. There I was all one hundred and twenty five, all right one hundred and thirty five, pounds of me in between these goliaths being fucked like a pig on a spit. They switched a couple of times to give me a taste of my lower intestines,” said Portia.
“And how was it,” asked Stacy?
“Delicious but needed more seasoning. Right when I was on the verge of being screwed to death, they relented,” said Portia.
“They stopped,” asked Stacy?
“No, they changed positions. They put me top of Ellis with his great manhood in my vagina and his powerful hands separating my butt cheeks for his accomplice. He literally pulled my asshole open. Then in the classic Cow Girl Double Penetration position, Dick lubed up my rear, open it wide with hands the side of catcher’s mitts and proceeded to fill my ass with his foot long sausage. It was a rare and profound moment when I got those two cocks inside my abdomen. I showed my appreciation by moaning louder than Keith as the two seasoned double penetrators synchronized their movements. The withdrawal of Dick’s cock created a powerful vacuum in my rectum while the intrusion of Rod compressed the air in my pussy. The end result was an orgasm that refused to end.”
“You’re lucky not to be bleeding internally,” said Stacy. “What happened next?”
“Reverse Cow Girl Double Penetration, those guys are so strong and muscular, they bruise you when they slam it home. My pussy and butt are purple this morning,” said Portia. “But the worst or best was yet to come.”
“There was more,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, they put me in a shoulder stand between them and put both their cocks in my vagina at the same time. I passed out from the pain. I’m pretty sure they ruined any possibility of my bearing children. I thought they were splitting me in two,” said Portia. “It was amazing how they forced themselves inside me.”
“You fainted?”
“Yes, wouldn’t anybody with two super sized pricks in her cunt? They revived me by holding a bottle of poppers to my nostrils. They wanted me awake for the finale,” said Portia.
“That wasn’t the finale,” said Stacy.
“No, back into the shoulder stand I went. Rod inserted a speculum in my asshole and cranked my butthole open like the Lincoln Tunnel. They filled my rectum with several sixteen ounce sticks of shortening,” said Portia.
“How do you know they were sixteen ounce sticks,” asked Stacy?
“As they unwrapped the sticks, they dropped the wrappers on my face. They were clearly marked sixteen ounces of poly-hydrogenated vegetable shortening. It was not a brand you would find in your neighborhood supermarket. There was an institutional sized box of it sitting on a table. They also placed two sticks in my pussy,” said Portia.
“I assume they weren’t planning to cook with them,” said Stacy.
“No, they fisted me. White goo ran out of my holes and down my body. I looked like a shortening fountain. Once they had me stuffed with hydrogenated vegetable oil they removed the speculum and forced their hands inside my pussy and ass,” said Portia.
“I wouldn’t have thought that was possible,” said Stacy.
“Nor I but it was. Pain wise I imagine it was comparable to childbirth. They put their oversized hands in my hole, made a fist and pushed. I passed out again. They woke me with another hit of poppers then continued to fist me while I begged them to stop. They were smiling, laughing, and enjoying themselves immensely. It was a wonderful moment for me too, both erotic and romantic. They then proceeded to put both their cocks in my vagina for a long slow double fucking. That part I enjoyed in spite of the agony of being stretched past that of childbirth. For the finale they proved to me both hands would fit in my asshole. That hurt too much to pass out. I suppose the basement must be soundproof because no one heard me screaming,” said Portia.
“How did it end,” asked Stacy?
“They unloaded on my face covering it in a sheen of pearly white semen. Having done with me, they got me to my wobbly feet, slapped me hard on my ass, kissed me, and sent me on my way with their laughter ringing in my ears,” said Portia. “I managed to climb upstairs and rejoin the orgy.”
“How did you and Traci end up with Doug,” asked Stacy?
“At some point, Doug took Traci and I by the hand and drug us upstairs. He got on the bed and presented us with his asshole demanding a deep tissue massage. Such an act requires lubricant so I suggested Traci treat my anal cavity as a resource. She stuck her arm up my loose ass coating it with slightly used shortening. Being flexible I was able to insert my hand and wrist in my own hole acquiring sufficient vegetable oil for the two of us to provide Doug a rarely performed two handed prostate massage.”
“You’re kidding,” said a disbelieving Stacy.
“I would not have believed it possible and I would not have attempted it unless I was drunk out of my mind. However, we managed after much hard shoving to get both hands in his butt and take hold of the gland in question. Doug bellowed like a bull in heat to encourage our efforts. A few minutes of double stroking and he released his final batch of the night. It had an unusually thick and creamy consistency that Traci and I enjoyed.”
“You swallowed it of course,” said Stacy.
“Girls who don’t swallow are never popular with guys and don’t get asked out on second dates. Plus I was curious.”
“Lessons learned,” asked Stacy?
“The human body has an amazing ability to adapt to insertion of large objects. Also I learned fat men keep a girl warm.”
“Surprised you did not injure him,” said Stacy.
“Apparently not, since this morning he woke me with a loud fart as he daintily climbed out of bed, went to the bathroom, and pissed a gallon of strong yellow. Then he left.”
“Strong yellow, how did you know it was strong,” asked Stacy?
“He didn’t flush. It was cloudy dark yellow green pee. I suspect it could function as paint remover. Plus I could smell it from the bed so I had to climb over you and send it to the septic tank. It smelled awful. I almost puked.”
“It sounds like you had a very interesting and challenging evening,” said Stacy.
“Yes, but at a price. This morning I had to steal one of the Castle’s hand towels. It’s in the crack of my ass. Shortening keeps leaking out of my butt hole and I didn’t want to stain your leather seats.”
“Is it an experience you would repeat if you had the chance,” asked Stacy?
“In a New Jersey minute.”
“That’s my girl,” said Stacy.
Chapter 43 S&M In Suburbia

“One thirty four, there it is,” said Portia spotting the Talbot’s house number as Stacy drove slowly down a quiet side street in Lexington’s Historical District.
“Beautiful home,” said Stacy entering the driveway coming to a halt behind a Volvo SUV.
“I looked it up in the Historical Register, built in 1796 by Nathaniel Wainwright, Merchant,” said Portia.
“I assume the dungeon was added later. Or was Nathaniel a handy man with a carriage whip?”
“Probably, the merchandise he made his fortune in was human. He financed over thirty voyages to Africa to bring back slaves. He was a slave owner himself,” said Portia. “That’s from the historical register.”
“So he must have occasionally whipped a sister who failed to get him off in a timely fashion,” said Stacy.
“Pleasuring master was part of her job description so she deserved it; but I doubt the original home had what Kendra describes as a state-of-the-art facility for the practice of sado-masochism.”
Why so,” asked Stacy? “I thought every home in suburbia came with a well-equipped torture chamber for mom and dad to enjoy.”
“According to the Lexington Preservation Society’s WEB site, any modifications to a home in the Historical District must be approved by committee and they make regular inspections to insure you’re not violating the owner’s agreement. I’m curious how the Talbots built a fully equipped modern dungeon.”
“I hope I don’t embarrass you. I’m not sure I can function as a dominatrice,” said Stacy as they exited the car.
“You won’t. Quit worrying. Think of it as one more step in our sexual education. Besides, wasn’t it you who got off turning that hot Latina’s ass bright red?” said Portia as she reached the front door and tripped the shinny brass doorknocker.
“Suppose I like it more than I should,” asked Stacy recalling how excited she became when she placed her palm on Adriana’s burning flesh?
Portia did not get a chance to answer.
“You must be Portia and Stacy, welcome to our home,” said the tall nice looking man who opened the door and introduced himself. “I’m Lloyd. Come this way. Kendra is finishing up lunch.”
The two girls smiled at one another as they followed Lloyd down the hallway to the back of the house. Portia playfully stuck out her hand pretending to pinch Lloyd’s round bottom causing Stacy to laugh silently.
When they arrived in the kitchen, Stacy immediately recalled the pretty, energetic brunette who along with Portia had made the foursome of Japanese automotive executives extremely pleased with Leslie Cabot’s golf weekend.
She’d vaguely remembered Portia discussing Kendra’s luncheon invitation on the drive back from Moynahan Castle. She‘d been surprised when Portia broached the topic.
“Remember Kendra from the golf weekend,” asked Portia taking a break from piano practice?
“Vaguely, was she the homemaker who invited you to Lexington for lunch with an S&M dessert,” asked Stacy looking up from her Western Civilization textbook?
“Yes, she and her husband, Lloyd, invited the two of us next Wednesday. Our last class is over at 10:00 so we could easily be there by noon,” said Portia.
“As I recall this is for more than lunch,” said Stacy.
“They’re both submissives and they have a fully equipped play space in the basement. We’re expected to be dominatrices,” said Portia. “Kendra has a pre-set program we can follow.”
“Play space,” asked Stacy?
“A BDSM euphemism for an area of their home where we can dominate them. It’s a dungeon and according to Kendra has everything needed to make them scream. She and her husband are really into pain. It’s something sexual we haven’t tried,” said Portia.
“Pain meaning whips, paddles, nipple clamps, etcetera,” asked Stacy.
“Precisely,” said Portia. “Kendra says they’ve been in the S&M lifestyle since before they married and would love to introduce us to the pleasures of domination and submission. Say you’ll go, please,” said Portia sitting down in Stacy’s lap and putting her arms around her neck.
“All right, it should be fun and educational,” said Stacy after thinking for a moment.
“Good, I’ll email Kendra we’re coming. I also need to go shopping for our dominatrix costumes,” said Portia excited at the prospect of a new adventure.
“Your home is very beautiful,” said Stacy. She and Portia were seated at an island in the spacious modern kitchen sipping a glass of pinot grigio. Lloyd had just taken them on a quick tour of the large Federalist style home. “Are the furnishings original?”
“No, but many are of the same period,” said Lloyd referring to the antique cluttered living room and parlor.
“The kitchen certainly isn’t colonial,” said Portia somewhat surprised at the sharp contrast between the different areas of the house.
“Only parts of the house are required to be maintained historically accurate. The kitchen, master bedrooms, and bathrooms were completely remodeled by the previous owner,” said Lloyd.
“As are the closets. In colonial America, people had very few clothes,” said Kendra. “No woman could survive with the tiny little cubbyholes, our forefathers called a closet.”
“And the dungeon,” asked Portia unable to suppress her curiosity?
“In the basement and completely out of the purview of the Preservation Committee; otherwise we Talbots would be the talk of Lexington,” said Kendra.
“Come, I’ll show you our play space while Kendra finishes lunch,” said Lloyd. Lloyd had been surprised at how attractive Portia and Stacy were. His prior experience had taught him females interested in S&M tended to be overweight. But Portia was very pretty with a compact well-proportioned figure and Stacy was a statuesque blonde beauty with an incredible rack he was anxious to explore.
Portia and Stacy followed Lloyd downstairs into a fully finished basement matching the footprint of the house.
“This is where Nicole and Elliot hang out when they’re not in school,” said Lloyd leading them through a room of comfortable, casual furniture facing a large screen television. The two youngest Talbots were on a school trip to Washington DC. Different brands of control boxes for video games were stacked on a nearby table. Air hockey and foosball tables occupied one side of the room. At the far end was a steel door Lloyd had to unlock before they could enter.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how do you keep your children from knowing about this,” asked Stacy as they followed him through the door into a well-lighted room obviously furnished for sado-masochism. It appeared very clean and well organized. The walls were covered with art and there were several objects of art on pedestals scattered throughout the room.
“Actually, they know because last month we sat them down and told them. We even gave them a brief tour,” said Lloyd. “They’d been dropping hints for months about what was in there?”
“How did they react,” asked Portia?
“Nicole and Elliot are very mature for their age. Nicole is fourteen and her brother thirteen. Of course, we never use this room while they’re here. One night at dinner, Elliot came right out and asked what was in the secret room in the basement. He said none of his friends had a locked room in their basement and he wanted to know what it was for. He was quite insistent.”
“So you told him,” said Stacy.
“After a lot of agonizing. But what else could we do? Elliot’s a very bright and inquisitive child. If we hadn’t satisfied his curiosity he would have picked the lock or found some way to get in.”
“Were they surprised,” asked Portia?
“Yes, but isn’t every child when he or she discovers Mommie has a pussy and Daddy sticks his peter in it. I know I was shocked the first time I spied on my parents. What was your experience, Stacy?”
“Total amazement, I was ten when I woke up hungry one night and on the way to the kitchen discovered my mother kneeling on the living room floor giving daddy a hummer. They’d been to a cocktail party,” said Stacy.
“How did they react,” asked Lloyd?
“They didn’t see me so I got to watch the part where he went down on her. That was followed by a good old fashioned missionary style screwing where my mother’s loud moans made me think daddy was hurting her.”
“Your parents never knew you were watching,” asked Portia?
“Not till the next day when I confronted my Mother and asked her what in the hell she and daddy were doing.”
“How did your mother respond,” asked Lloyd?
“Being a female doctor, she didn’t flinch from my sexual education. My Mom dove right in. In clinical detail lasting three hours she described the entire gamut of heterosexual intercourse. She followed her lecture up with age appropriate books and a video. That was succeeded by further discussion of the course material. I have to hand it to my Mom. She was thorough. I wound up with an excellent textbook knowledge of doing the nasty. I became the go to person in my class when someone had a question about sex.”
“But you didn’t apply the knowledge until much later,” said Portia.
“Correct, as the other students gained practical experience my academic learning lost value. But since arriving at college, I’ve increased my practical experience by leaps and bounds.”
“How about you, Portia,” asked Lloyd leading the girls into the middle of the room?
“My older sister and I grew up in a small three bedroom house in Trenton, New Jersey. The walls were paper-thin and my sister’s bedroom shared a heating duct with my parent’s room. We used to lay in bed listening to them. They were loud, energetic, and very vocal about what they expected from each other. Since my sister was three years older than me, she became my sexual mentor. I don’t recall ever seeing my parents having intercourse but when your older sister has a collection of dildos including a strapon and she is willing to demonstrate exactly what they’re doing, you gain knowledge quickly. How about you, Lloyd?”
“My first sighting was on a yacht my parents and two other couples leased for a two week cruise in the Caribbean, six adults and five children on a ninety seven feet motor sailor does not make for privacy. One of the seven was a girl, my age in years but far ahead in knowledge and experience. One night, we were anchored in a cove on a small island off Barbados. We’d spent the day snorkeling and we kids were exhausted and went to bed early. Thinking back it must have been planned by the adults as a means to have some privacy. Judy, the knowledgeable one, woke me and told me to be quiet and follow her. We climbed through a hatch near the bow. Back in the cockpit, there were six drunken adults playing Naked Twister. The winner got to fuck the loser. My Mom had just lost to Judy’s Dad.”
“So your parents were swingers. Did they catch you watching them,” asked Portia?
“Not that night, but it had the effect of turning me into a master spy. When they eventually found the microphone and television camera I installed in their bedroom, they sat me down for a detailed account of the birds and the bees. That was before they grounded me for a month.”
“Did they admit to mate swapping,” asked Stacy?
“Somewhat reluctantly, however, they didn’t have a choice when they discovered I had filmed them having sex with another couple.”
“How did you present all this to Nicole and Elliot? It’s a bit beyond the norm,” said Portia looking around the room.
“We tried to be honest. We told them it was our own special way of enjoying each other and most parents pursued sex differently. We said sado-masochism along with vanilla sex was an important part of our lives and something we enjoyed together and with other adults.”
“And that satisfied them,” asked Stacy?
“For now, but I predict there will be another round of questions and more detailed answers will be expected,” said Lloyd. “Kendra and I are not looking forward to that.”
“So BDSM and family life can co-exist,” said Stacy running her hand over a furnishing she recognized.
“I can only speak for Kendra and myself but we’re managing,” said Lloyd. “Any questions about our play space?”
“The paintings are incredible. Who’s the collector?’ asked Portia scanning the art works?
“Guilty, I studied art in college until I realized writing computer software instead would allow me to have a family and buy them something to eat,” said Lloyd.
“Is this an antique,” said Portia gently turning the pages of a book set on a podium in front of a group of paintings.
“Yes, circa 1861, I collect early America art related to BDSM and that is one of my more interesting finds,” said Lloyd flipping a wall switch to illuminate the book and the art behind it. “You are looking at one of the earliest examples of an illustrated S&M manuscript.”
“Fascinating,” said Stacy glancing at each of the pictures. “Tell us about it.”
“It’s titled, ‘The Capture and Savage Violation of the Slocum Family By Mangas Colorado and His Band of Apaches.’ It was written and illustrated by Emily Slocum. The illustrations in the printed text were made from the paintings hanging on the wall. They used a technique called camera obscura to create the printing plates from the paintings.”
“How did you find it,” asked Portia reading the first page of Emily’s narrative?
“I got lucky. I was in college at San Jose State. Although I’d just changed my major from art to computer science I was still interested in art. I had some money I’d inherited from my uncle and decided that if I couldn’t be an artist at least I could be an art collector. Due to my sexual preferences, I chose American BDSM as the theme of my collection. I frequented art galleries and auctions looking for bargains making friends with dealers and gallery owners. One day a dealer I’d gotten to be good friends with said he had something unusual he couldn’t sell in his gallery because of its content. It had come to him through an estate sale that included some traditional paintings of serious value. He sold the book and paintings to me for only five hundred dollars. It was found in the attic of a mansion in Riverside, California owned by a deceased and eccentric millionaire who had acquired it somehow.”
“That was an incredible bargain,” said Stacy.
“Yes, the fact the artist and writer was a woman makes it most unusual for the time. In early 1858, Emily, her father Jeremiah, mother Cecilia, older brother Samuel, and younger sister, Katherine, set out in a wagon train from St. Louis for California. They took the southern route passing through the New Mexico and Arizona territories. The first picture in the set shows the Slocum family ready to depart.”
“Handsome pioneer family,” said Stacy looking closely at the family grouped in front of an ox drawn Conestoga wagon. No one was smiling. The three women were dressed in long black dresses and wore bonnets. The two Slocum males wore bulky wool suits with bowler hats.
“Yes, in her book, Emily makes quite a to do of the family’s physical appearance especially her father and brother’s. Her parents were actually well off for those days. The wagon train made good time and they had reached New Mexico Territory when disaster struck. Look at the second painting.”
“Broken axle,” said Portia reading the title under the second painting. It showed the family looking somewhat forlorn as the other wagons left them. The front wheel of their wagon was lying flat on the ground.
“Their wagon broke down in Cooke’s Canyon, a long narrow gorge and a favorite ambush site for the Chircahua Apaches under the great war chief Mangas Colorado. The other wagons in a moment of supreme cowardice drove on leaving the Slocum’s to make repairs and catch up in Tucson. The third picture tells what happened next.”
“Captured,” said Portia reading the caption of the third painting. It showed the Slocum’s looking terrified cowering in the middle of dozens of Indians. “Is this story true?”
“At least in part, I was able to verify from military records that a family named Slocum consisting of a man, woman and three children was rescued by a detachment of cavalry under the command of a Lt. Worthy Bascom. The report said the Slocum’s had been horribly abused by the savages before Bascom’s detachment drove them off. But it doesn’t go into specifics about their injuries. I suppose the Lieutenant was being gentile. You didn’t write about rape and mayhem in those times.”
“They stripped them. Who is the big Indian?” said Stacy looking at the next picture. It showed the family standing naked against the side of the wagon. They were staring fearfully at a large Apache who was a head taller than anyone else. Other Apaches were trying on the captive’s clothes. The images graphically depicted the sexual organs of the Slocums.
“Mangas Colorado himself, along with Cochise and Geronimo, the greatest of the Apache war chiefs. The Army murdered him in 1863 after he surrendered and offered to sign a peace treaty. He was six feet four inches tall. That I have verified but it was common knowledge he was a giant for that period.”
“The Slocum men were well endowed and the women had good figures,” said Portia studying the picture.
“Yes, too well endowed and that is where Emily seems to jump from a historically accurate account into S&M porn,” said Lloyd.
“You’re right. The cocks are too large and the women’s breasts are bigger than Stacy’s,” said Portia.
“But not as beautiful,” said Lloyd lifting Stacy’s shirt up to expose her braless breasts.
“I’m surprised pioneer men and women were just as boob-centric as we are today,” said Stacy placing her hands under her breasts and lifting them in a gesture signifying they were available for Lloyd’s closer inspection.
“Magnificent, have you ever posed before,” said Lloyd leaning down to kiss one of Stacy’s nipples as his fingers squeezed the other?
“No,” said Stacy lifting Lloyd’s head to engage in a passionate kiss.
“Stop. You two control yourself. The vanilla part of the agenda is later this afternoon,” said Portia pulling on Stacy’s arm.
“You’re right, Portia, but some things are hard to resist,” said Lloyd releasing Stacy.
“I find Emily’s account fascinating. Please continue,” said Stacy reluctantly pushing her shirt down.
“I think Emily fantasized about the size of her father and brother’s cock,” said Lloyd returning to the paintings and manuscript.
The next painting showed Jeremiah tied upright to the side of the wagon over the enormous wheel, his arms and legs in a starfish configuration. There was a thin strip around each testicle pulling it away from its partner toward opposite sides of the wheel rim. Another chord pulled his cock straight toward the earth. He appeared to be in considerable pain.
“Rawhide,” said Portia reading the caption on the painting. “What does that mean?”
“Rawhide is untanned cow hide cut in narrow strips. Since it was never subjected to tanning it has the property that if you wet it then allow it to dry, it will shrink as much as thirty percent. One of the favorite Apache tortures was to tie a narrow strip of wet rawhide around a woman’s breasts or a man’s testicles and let the hot sun do the rest.”
“No wonder everyone was scared shitless of the Apaches,” said Portia.
“There are numerous accounts of Apache atrocities by settlers where men are castrated by the simple use of wet rawhide. You staked the man out in the hot sun, tightly secured his balls with wet rawhide then relaxed and chanted to the Great Spirit while he screamed his head off. They didn’t have television so good entertainment was rare. If the cavalry had not arrived, Jeremiah Slocum would have gone to his grave without the family jewels.”
“They’re huge and stretched a good six inches,” said Stacy feeling warmth between her thighs brought about by the erotic images facing her.
“No doubt a product of Emily’s overactive imagination,” said Lloyd.
“The Apaches engaged in sodomy,” asked Portia after reading the caption of the next painting in which Samuel was on all fours with an Apache cock in his mouth and ass.
“Note how large the Apache’s cocks are in, ‘Samuel is Sodomized.’ It’s quite absurd, really,” said Lloyd. “But yes, the Apaches like almost all our Native American tribes weren’t too picky gender-wise about whose hole they plugged.”
“Samuel’s cock is hard, too. As are the Apache’s waiting their turn with him,” said Portia.
“Yes, it reminds me of one of the monthly all male group sex parties, we have right here in Lexington at the Courtyard Inn. Everyone kicks in twenty bucks to hire a twink for the evening and we take turns with him,” said Lloyd matter of factly. “By the time we’re done with him, his asshole won’t close and its oozing semen.”
“You and Kendra have a very interesting sex life,” said Stacy.
“We work hard to keep it interesting, inviting two beautiful college girls to be our dominatrices for example. We also allow each other latitude to participate in sexual situations without the spouse. I attend my monthly all male bisexual married men parties and Kendra has her weekend at Leslie Cabot’s fuck-a-thon among other activities.”
“They say the secret to a successful marriage is to work at it,” said Stacy. “I see little Emily lost her cherry to the war chief himself.”
“Yes, Mangas was the first to put the stones to her, as my Italian neighbor would say,” said Lloyd.
“He’s huge,” said Portia looking at the painting titled, “My Defilement.” Emily was on her hands and knees. A kneeling Mangas Colorado had a firm grip on her flanks and was shoving his manhood into her bleeding vagina.
“If his cock was that large, it must have hurt,” said Stacy.
“Emily in the text writes at length about how his enormous cock filled her delicate sex. Open her book at the bookmark and read. You’ll see why I consider this part historical account and part pornography,” said Lloyd.
Portia flipped the page to the bookmark and read aloud:

“His rough hands seized my womanly hips, ordering me to be still to facilitate his assault. My only idea of what to expect was based on the occasion I watched Mr. Wilkinson’s Jersey bull, Thomas, impregnate our cow, Niagara. Mother was furious when she learned I had witnessed old Mr. Wilkinson’s take hold of Thomas’s enormous member and position it at Niagara’s opening. Seizing his opportunity, Thomas shoved his great body forward driving into Niagara in one straightforward action. Niagara’s bellow made my ears ring as her hind legs fought to sustain his bulk.
Like Niagara I found myself straining to support the weight of the Apache chief as he crouched over me. The tip of his manhood parted the folds of my sex seeking my too small opening. He halted for a moment. I heard the sound of expectorating. His callused fingers touched my female parts smearing his sputum over the surface. Later, I learned it was common practice for the male to cover the female’s sex with his saliva to ease his entry.
My defilement by the savage was quick and brutal. Returning the blunt head of his instrument to my opening, his hand cruelly grasped my hips as he forced himself in me. The pain was acute as he encountered my maidenhead. The proof of my virtue resisted his incursion causing him to redouble his effort. I felt something begin to tear then in an instant I was a ruined woman screaming my shame to the heavens. His manhood was deep inside me. My agony was unbearable but all I could do was weep and pray my ordeal would end. I heard my father curse the Apache calling down God’s wrath on them for their depredation of the Slocum Family.
To my right, I heard Katherine suffer my fate. Her screams reverberated off the walls of the cursed canyon where the Apache found us easy prey. My Mother, being a woman and mother, bore her assault quietly as savage after savage mounted her.
For my poor brother it was worse as the Apache, lacking Christian learning, repeatedly performed dual acts of sodomy against his person. I had heard men engage in such depraved acts but had never believed I would witness such wickedness.
The Apache Chief thrust into me repeatedly until at last he filled me with his life-giving seed. Upon his withdrawal I had no respite as another took his place. It was then a young brave placed his penis against my lips. My resolve to keep my mouth closed failed when he held his knife against my throat. I imitated Samuel and my Mother, pleasuring the savage with my lips and tongue until he spewed his seed into my mouth. The savage cried a loud whoop of triumph as he stained my virtue forever. His knife at my throat forced me to swallow his liquor.”

“Wow,” said Stacy when Portia finished.
“Porn or historically accurate account,” asked Lloyd?
“I opt for both,” said Portia.
“It’s fascinating what our pioneers endured in their drive to settle the West. What’s next?” said Stacy.
“In the next painting, Mother Cecilia and Sister Katherine get their share of Apache dick. The following three paintings are basically scenes of the three women being raped in both orifices. Emily was quite the artist. Her use of color, light, and perspective are excellent. You can see Samuel being ass fucked in the foreground while in the background Jeremiah’s scrotum achieves a prodigious length.”
“What’s happening here,” asked Stacy pointing to the next painting in the series?
“Simple rape has lost its charm and it is time to bring fire into the picture. In the first painting on the next to bottom row, the women are standing while their breasts are bound in wet rawhide. Emily’s have begun to swell and discolor.”
“Our little Emily’s tits look like watermelons,” said Stacy noting the size and striped color of her mammaries.
“But in the next painting, things really get serious,” said Portia pointing to the final set of paintings labeled Trial By Fire.
“This part is also supported by independent accounts of Apache behavior. Apaches employed fire when torturing their captives. One of Geronimo’s favorites for ranchers who settled Indian land was to cook them inside one of their beef carcasses. Settlers who were dumb enough to be captured suffered horrible deaths. Geronimo’s men would kill one of his cows, cut it open and gut it. They’d place the naked captive inside the carcass and seal it up expect for the face so he doesn’t smother. They suspended the encased captive from a tree limb and build a fire under him. You basically cooked in the animal’s body fat. It took several hours to die. Settlers were told that if they were about to be captured to place their gun in their mouth and pull the trigger. Save the last bullet for yourself was the rule.”
“Why were the Apaches so savage,” asked Stacy?
“Partly their religion, partly just payback for the way they were treated. The Mexican government offered a bounty for dead Apaches. It had a graduated scale that included women and children. Settlers and the army didn’t hesitate to rape and murder their women.”
“Did they really do that to the Slocum women,” asked Portia viewing the scene of extreme torture combined with rape?
“According to Emily’s account, they dug a narrow trench and filled it full of burning mesquite. Mesquite wood burns quick and hot. They used pieces of the wagon to build a frame to hold the women over the fire while they raped them. The areolas of their swollen boobs were just above the fire. You can imagine how that must have felt. My research confirmed that captured women were found with charred or even burned off breasts.”
“How horrible,” said Stacy looking at the paintings of the women’s violent reactions to being raped while their breasts rested in glowing coals?
“But before, anything was completely burned or ripped off, Lt. Worthy Bascom of General Carleton’s army arrived and drove the Apaches off,” said Lloyd putting his arms around Portia and Stacy to take hold of their breast. His hand slipped inside Portia shirt to fondle her nipple ring.
“And their ordeal was over,” said Portia peering at the painting of the breathless arrival of the cavalry with bugle blaring. The Apaches were fleeing in terror leaving the naked Slocums to greet their rescuers.
“Except that on the journey to Tucson, the Lieutenant suggested to Jeremiah that the three now defiled Slocum women show their appreciation to his men by providing sexual intercourse. As the Lieutenant pointed out to the senior Slocum, women who had been raped by the Apache did not merit the normal respect due to womankind. They were ruined women on the same level as prostitutes. Besides his men were horny and women were scarce on the frontier.”
“Some things never change,” said Stacy. “Someone rapes you and you’re damaged goods.”
“And Emily’s father agreed,” asked Portia?
“He found the Lieutenant’s argument convincing. Besides, how was he going to argue with forty armed troopers who saved him from having his balls slowly ripped off?”
“I’ve read where women on the frontier in some instances were forced to service all their male relatives,” said Portia. “A bride of one brother would wind up having sex with all the unmarried males of her husband’s family including his brothers and even his father and uncles if the wives was deceased.”
“In her narrative, Emily recounts in detail how the three Slocum women had sex with dozens of soldiers each night on the journey to Tucson. Apparently several of the troopers were from New Orleans and they introduced her to the French perversion of using their mouth to pleasure a woman’s sex. Oral sex made a big impression on Emily in her narrative but she didn’t include it in her paintings. Too embarrassed at her enjoyment of such a wicked perversion.”
“An amazing story and equally amazing illustrations. Who is the little boy in the last painting?” asked Stacy referring the final painting of Emily standing once again with her family holding the hand of a study looking male child with a mane of black hair. Katherine was holding the hand of a girl child approximately the same age as Emily’s son. The mother was holding the hand of twin boys?
“According to the text, that’s the bastard son of Mangas Colorado. How Emily would know that is beyond comprehension. This was before DNA testing. Both mother and daughters became pregnant as a result of their experience in Cook’s Canyon. If you like, I’ll email you a digital copy of Emily’s yarn.”
“I’d like that very much,” said Portia. Kendra has our email address.
“Me too, whatever happened to Emily and the Slocums,” asked Stacy.
“Settled in San Bernardino where Jeremiah opened a successful farm implement business. Emily married a Titus Loren, had four children by him, all boys, and lived to be seventy-five. Do you have any questions or comments about our play space?”
“Does this dampen the sound enough to keep the neighbors from calling the police,” asked Stacy touching the thick matted material covering the walls and ceiling?
“Yes, it’s a commercially available product used to suppress noise in office buildings. Banks use it in their automated coin counting facilities,” said Lloyd. “You can scream your head off and no one outside this room will hear a thing. Believe me, we’ve tested it.”
“How did you learn about it,” asked Portia?
“From one of the many WEB sites dedicated to supporting those in the S&M lifestyle,” said Lloyd.
“I’ve been in one of these before,” said Stacy referring to the pair of handsomely constructed punishment benches bolted to the stone floor. Stacy recalled Mistress Charlize and Simone had restrained her on an identical furnishing.
“I’m surprised because they’re not many of those in New England. In fact I don’t know of a single one. They’re made in the UK and top of the line, very expensive. Honestly, we couldn’t afford them new but an elderly couple in our group who had megabucks had to give up the lifestyle when the man developed a heart condition. They didn’t want their children and grandchildren to discover their secret life so they sold them for a fraction of what they paid.”
“I was spanked and tortured with electricity until I was out of my mind,” said Stacy running her hands over the smooth walnut finish recalling with a shudder her experience at the Auto-De-Fe.
“We’re not into electricity but spanking is on our menu,” said Lloyd looking quite pleased his wife had arranged for two such beautiful and willing young girls to dominate them.
“I told Kendra we are not experienced dominatrix but we are interested in learning and we’ve both been submissives. So we understand the basics,” said Portia.
“That’s perfectly acceptable. Kendra and I make a point of exposing the BDSM lifestyle to those who haven’t experienced it,” said Lloyd. “There are several couples right here in Lexington who were introduced to S&M by the two of us. Most dominants start out as submissives so you two are not unusual.”
“I wasn’t aware S&M was so widely practiced,” said Stacy wondering if there was a chapter in Weston and whether any of the Todds were members.
“More wide spread than you would think but of course, we don’t advertise. These plastic totes contain everything you will need, zippers, nipple clamps, ball crushers and tongue stretchers. This contraption here will be used for the first time this afternoon,” said Lloyd holding up a complicated appearing device made of leather straps and metal.
“What is it,” asked Stacy taking the device from Lloyd to examine it more closely? Stacy could tell from the shape it was intended to incase a male’s cock and balls.
“A Jakarta Cock and Ball Stretcher, it’s new, never been used before. A friend who travels to Indonesia on business bought it for me. There is a WEB site that sells them but it’s more expensive.”
“How does it work,” asked Stacy taking a firm grip on Lloyd’s trouser covered crotch? Her acute sense of touch allowed her to grip one of his testicles and squeeze it.
“You must be anxious to get started,” asked Lloyd looking pleased to be the object of Stacy’s aggressive behavior? “So am I. Cock and Ball Torture or CBT is one of my favorite S&M activities.”
“I am looking forward to making you scream,” said Stacy. It was a spontaneous move on Stacy’s part and she was pleased at Lloyd’s response. He leaned slightly forward pressing his gonad into her hand as he continued his explanation. She could tell he liked having his gonad squeezed.
“It’s simple, really. You open the device like so and put my privates inside and snap it shut. You circle this leather strap around the base of my cock and balls and pull it tight. I need to be hard before you tighten it. That won’t be a problem. I’ve been getting an erection ever since Kendra showed me the pictures you emailed and told me you were coming. These two adjustable rings fit around the base of each testicle. When you turn this wheel it stretches my left nut away from my body. This one does the right,” said Lloyd.
“Just like Jeremiah Slocum’s,” said Stacy.
“The same idea, getting your nuts stretched is dear to the heart of every CBT enthusiasts,” said Lloyd.
“They work independently of one another,” asked Portia noting how the device operated?
“Exactly, and this adjustable ring goes under the lip of my cockhead. Then you tighten it so it won’t slip. Once everything is in place you turn each of the three wheels and the connecting rods telescope stretching my parts.”
“Looks very painful,” observed Portia taking the device from Stacy to examine it more closely. “There was small sharp edges on the inside.”
“Yes, they penetrate the flesh as the device elongates. Actually, it’s not only a stretcher but a crusher,” said Lloyd.
“Who thought this up,” asked Portia?
“According to the WEB site, executioners employed by the King. The original was a combination torture and execution device. If you offended the King, they stretched your cock and balls until something ripped off and you bled to death. They worked slowly to make you suffer the maximum. And it was performed in a public square where passersby could enjoy your agonizing death.”
“Isn’t it dangerous,” asked Portia?
“No, the modern version has been altered to limit how far it will stretch,” said Lloyd
“But it will stretch you far enough to cause these pain,” asked Portia reaching down to take Lloyd’s other testicle in her hand.
“Excruiatiating agony, I’ll be screaming my head off and begging you to stop,” said Lloyd his erect penis tenting his trousers. He closed his eyes to focus on the pleasure he was feeling from the girl’s pressure on his balls.
“I am so looking forward to hearing you beg,” said Stacy finding herself turned on by the thin sheen of sweat appearing on his brow and his obvious enjoyment in the pain she was causing him.
“You will hear me. I promise,” said Lloyd his voice barely above a whisper.
“Maybe we’ll have a contest to see who screams the loudest,” said Portia as she and Stacy removed their hands from Lloyd’s testicles at the same moment.
“I’m sure Kendra and I would love to compete,” said Lloyd gasping in relief as the pressure on his gonads disappeared.
“Is there a comparable device for Kendra,” asked Portia handing back the contraption Lloyd returned to its container?
“Yes, we both have new toys for you to use on us,” said Lloyd reaching into a storage container labeled ‘Breasts’ to extract a device whose shape resembled a brassiere with cups consisting of two wire baskets.
“Let me guess, Jakarta Tit Crushers,” said Portia taking the contraption from Lloyd to examine it more closely.
“A logical guess but wrong, this nasty little instrument is modeled after a torture implement developed during the final years of the Inquisition. It’s called Satan’s Breasts. It was used to extract confessions from suspected female heretics,” said Lloyd.
“They also have pins,” said Stacy noting the inside was lined with needle like pins. She felt a surge of excitement as she imagined the sharp points entering Kendra’s sizeable breasts from every direction.
“Yes, the idea is similar to the Jakarta Cock Stretcher except you capture the base of the breast in the large ring and the base of the nipple in the small one. This wheel on the front causes the basket to change shape. Turn it and see,” said Lloyd.
“Evil,” said Portia noting how the basket became narrower and longer.
“Did the heretics confess,” asked Stacy?
“Everyone confessed unless they were lucky enough to collapse and die which got their torturer’s in big trouble,” said Lloyd.
“Why was he in trouble,” asked Portia?
“Because he sent a soul to hell without giving it a chance to confess and repent,” said Lloyd. “A grave error in those religious times. Dying on your torturer’s hands was likely to get him declared a familiar of Lucifer and sentenced to be burned alive at the next Auto-De-Fe.”
“And Kendra has never experienced this,” asked Portia?
“No, FedEx only delivered it yesterday. Kendra insisted on something new to wear for your visit,” said Lloyd.
“I hope she enjoys wearing them as much as we enjoy putting them on her,” said Stacy handing back the Satan’s Breast.
“Those are interesting, St. Andrew’s crosses, I believe,” said Portia referring to the two large X-shaped crosses mounted on circular metal plates occupying one end of the room.
“Correct, but with some special features I added myself. I modified the basic design to make them more functional. Of course, the St. Andrews represents classic sado-masochism. The slave is utterly at his mistress’s mercy,” said Lloyd moving to the X-shaped furnishing. “I started from plans I got off the Internet, a site named Satan’s Hardware.” Lloyd pushed a button on a control box and the cross began to slowly rotate. “See, you can alternate between whipping the back and front of the slave.”
“You made these yourself,” asked Portia pressing a switch causing the other St. Andrew’s cross to turn?
“Not entirely, my younger brothers, Leo and Lionel, own a machine shop in Lowell. They fabricated the rotating base plates and motorized them but I put everything else together after about a dozen trips to Home Depot,” said Lloyd. “They’ll be over later but they’re strictly vanilla.”
“Very impressive,” said Portia twisting the dial causing the cross to spin faster.
“Once you get Kendra and I secured, you can turn us upside down by releasing the brake like so and slowly turning this crank. It’s counter balanced so it moves easily,” said Lloyd demonstrating how to alter the cross’ position. “Once we’re upside down, you can start us spinning again. Having your privates whipped while spinning upside down is something every submissive should experience.”
“An amazing reproduction,” said Portia referring to the enormous oil painting hanging on the wall behind the crosses.
“Yes, the one object of art in this room that is not an original. Of course if it were I’d have to be one of the world’s richest men. I saw it on eBay and could not resist. A talented art student with a gift for mimicry painted it,” said Lloyd as he flicked a wall switch causing the painting to be illuminated. “According to the paperwork, she spent six months in the Cleveland Museum of Art studying the original.”
“Enlighten me,” said Stacy studying the impressive oil painting.
“The original is called the Crucifixion of St. Andrew. Caravaggio painted it in 1607. He was the bad boy homosexual of the great Renaissance masters, a drinker and brawler without equal. The original is priceless, hundreds of millions.”
“It’s beautiful and terrible all at the same time,” said Stacy studying the anguished face of the saint as the Romans nailed his wrists to the rough wood.
At that moment, Lloyd’s cell phone rang. It was Kendra summoning them to lunch.


Chapter 44 D&S In Suburbia

“This is delicious. What’s in it,” asked Stacy?
“Corn and tomato salad with shrimp and watercress. I got it off the Food Network WEB site. It’s low carb,” said Kendra.
“Rabbit food but healthy and full of the energy to power your whip arm,” said Lloyd before adding, “It’s delicious, too.”
“Let’s go over the program while we eat,” said Kendra handing the others a stapled set of pages. “This is almost identical to the one I emailed you; however I added some margin notes to help you understand the role-play.
“I’ve done role-play once before,” said Stacy recalling her evening with the Russo’s where she played a high school student.
“And how did it go?” asked Lloyd?
“Fine, I was nervous at the start but I got my head into it after a while,” said Stacy.
“I’m looking forward to being your mother,” said Portia looking sternly at Kendra.
“And I’m looking forward to being punished for being a bad daughter,” said Kendra doing her best to look terrified.
“Do you have a safe word,” asked Portia after glancing at the pages to commit them to memory?
“Safe words are for whimps,” said Lloyd.
“If you follow the program, we shouldn’t need one. Lloyd and I have submitted to this particular regimen before and we can handle it,” said Kendra.
“Christ, I’m getting horny just reading it,” said Lloyd holding the sheet up. “I prefer woman as dominants, especially beautiful ones.”
“Me too,” said Stacy envisioning how she would carry out each step of the long program. She also made a note to brutally punish Lloyd for flirting with her in front of his wife.
“How long should this take,” asked Portia? “We’re in no rush but I want to pace it correctly.”
“About two hours, take your time and don’t hurry. There’s a place in the program for you to take a break. I suggest at least a half hour. That should allow us sufficient suffering time,” said Lloyd.
“Suffering time, I like that,” said Stacy studying the program as she ate.
“In our opinion, no S&M program is complete without a period in which the submissive is left to enjoy his agony,” said Kendra. “Just turn out the lights and leave us in the dark to meditate on the error of our ways.”
“What’s the longest you’ve ever suffered,” asked Portia?
“All night, as I recall. But that’s only with a very experienced master and mistress. Loss of circulation is a serious risk in those situations,” said Lloyd. “S&M is not without its concerns. It must be approached with care.”
“Thirty minutes it is,” said Stacy. “Portia and I can play video games.”
“How did you two find Leslie Cabot’s weekend of illicit sex,” asked Lloyd?
“I enjoyed it. It isn’t often you get to screw your brains out for a good cause,” said Stacy. “At the banquet, I lost all my inhibitions and misbehaved.”
“Stacy got the orgy started. She threw off her dress and danced naked on the table. She let the men drink champagne from her pussy and ass. It was incredibly decadent,” said Kendra.
“Our Stacia displayed a never before seen talent for accurately squirting it in the mouths of her admirers,” said Portia. “Her aim was amazing.
“How erotic. What were you doing while all this was happening, Portia?” asked Lloyd.
“Using all three orifices to service every cock and pussy within reach,” said Portia. I couldn’t allow Stacy and Kendra to misbehave without me.”
“Later they organized a fuck line so each of the donors could say he stuck his cock in all thirty two vaginas,” said Kendra. “Leslie didn’t want anyone to go home disappointed.”
“Next morning it felt like I had thirty two cocks in all three of my holes. It was quite an experience,” said Stacy.
“You were Kendra’s golf partner,” said Lloyd looking toward Portia.
“Yes, we sucked and fucked our way through eighteen holes plus our own,” said Portia.
“At each tee, we were shoulder to shoulder leaning on the back of the golf cart taking it dog style,” said Kendra.
“Kendra said she had a great time and you made her laugh,” said Lloyd.
“I never knew golf could be so much fun. Having sex while enjoying a spectacular view of the White Mountains made me feel much closer to nature,” said Portia.
“Portia and I had sushi for breakfast,” said Kendra referring to the oral sex they provided the Japanese automobile executives.
“Portia, Kendra said you were a world renown expert on identifying male ethnicity by tasting their semen,” said Lloyd.
“My expertise is hardly world renown. But I spent several summer at music camps where I sampled the ejaculate of different nations. There were musicians from many counties present. It was a sort of mini-UN,” said Portia.
“And what was your favorite,” asked Lloyd?
“Indian men were my personal choice. The combination of curry spices and a vegetarian diet gave their semen a exotic flavor when it landed on your taste buds,” said Portia recalling the pleasant evenings she performed orally on the two brothers from New Delhi who played cello at the Saratoga Camp for Gifted Young Musicians.
“I started feeding Lloyd more fish when I got back from the weekend. Fish flavored semen is delicious and contains Omega-3 fat,” said Kendra. “What’s your preference, Stacy?”
“Italian,” said Stacy without hesitating. “Extra virgin olive oil with a hint of fresh percorrino parmesan is difficult to beat in my view. But I enjoy having a warm load in my mouth regardless of nation of origin,” said Stacy.
“An equal opportunity blow job artist,” said Portia.
“It would be wrong to refuse to suck someone’s cock due to ethnicity,” said Kendra.
“Oral discrimination is just plain wrong. It’s not forbidden in the Constitution but it should be,” said Stacy.
“You women are hilarious. Ready to start,” asked Lloyd taking his dishes to the sink?
The four, eager to begin the S&M program, quickly cleaned up the kitchen. Kendra showed Portia and Stacy to a bedroom where they could change into their dominatrix attire.
“When you’re dressed, come downstairs to the dungeon. Your slaves will be eagerly awaiting their punishment,” said Kendra before leaving.
They quickly changed into the outfits Portia had carefully selected. They dressed identically in plain high-heeled pumps, slutty fish net stockings held up by a garter belt, and micro mini skirts slit up the side to reveal the were not wearing underpants. They were nude from the waist up. Everything was black and acquired by Portia from their local Good Will store.
Their skirts concealed the nylon straps of the harness for the new style strapon cocks Portia had somehow acquired.
“Oh that’s nice,” said Stacy inserting the odd shaped dildo into her vagina and moving it back and forth several times.
“The strapon kit is a modular design created by a company owned and operated by women. It only came on to the market three months ago. So it’s state-of-the-art.”
“This part certainly works for me,” said Stacy flexing her abdomen to press her G-spot against the dildo.
“According to the directions, it not only anchors the strapon, providing stability it gives the wearer intense pleasure where it counts,” said Portia reading the instruction booklet. “The fucker’s part which is inside you as we speak is designed to stimulate your G-spot while you hammer the fuckee’s holes.”
“It feels very good inside me,” said Stacy closing her eyes to concentrate on the pleasure she felt inside her vagina.
Moments before, Portia handed Stacy a briefcase sized molded plastic case. “Here’s your brand new female orgasm kit.”
“Looks awesome,” said Stacy looking over the selection of different size and shaped dildos embedded in foam rubber cutouts. She removed a large plastic bottle of clear liquid. “Is this the lubricant we’re to use?”
“Yes, its’ called Slide and it contains silicone and a warming agent. It’s great for getting large objects in small tight places.”
“Everything’s nicely labeled,” said Stacy.
Portia flipped a switch in the top of the case. “There’s a built in light in case you’re fucking in the dark.”
“This looks serious,” said Stacy.
“The ultimate in deep tissue exploration. It’s called the Rectum Explorer. We use it in step six of the program.”
“It’s huge,” said Stacy examining the cone shaped foot long device. There were ten donut shaped rings beginning with one less than an inch in diameter and ending in one five inches across.
“Slide will get in inside,” said Portia combing her hair.
“I bet it hurts.”
“It’s supposed to,” said Portia taking a smaller, more flexible dildo out of the case and mounting it on the front of her harness. “Put the one labeled Cocksucker on to start. We use it at the beginning.”
“It looks like a real dick,” said Stacy twisting the dildo to lock it in place.
“It’s supposed to look and taste like one,” said Portia.
“And when do we use the rest of this,” asked Stacy looking over the contents of the case.
Portia referred to the program sheet with Stacy looking over her shoulder. “Here, almost at the end, you fix the Butt Reamer in place and mount Lloyd’s rear and ride like the wind. He’ll be screaming his head off.”
“I can hardly wait,” said Stacy.
“Since Kendra has two holes and a clit, I have to add this attachment which allows me to use both the Butt Reamer and the Pussy Auger plus the Clit Stimulator all at the same time.”
“It’s certainly very complete and well made,” said Stacy once more examining the contents of the case.
“A true craftsmen takes pride in having the best tools and knowing how to use them,” said Portia.
“May I ask how you managed to acquire these fine examples of marital aids,” asked Stacy?
“I was going to tell you about that but I was waiting for the right moment,” said Portia.
“Whom did you have to fuck,” asked Stacy closing her case to finish her hair and make-up.
“It isn’t my usual barter arrangement with Mel. They were over three hundred a piece so a quickie in stock room didn’t cover it. ‘Whom’ is plural and so is ‘you’,” said Portia darkening her nipples with make-up.
“Tell me more. What have you gotten us into?” said Stacy applying a ruby red shade of lipstick.
“Sunday afternoon we are attending a private party at ITAM VFW Post 122 in Boston’s North End,” said Portia quickly spelling out the letters.
“What do all those letters stand for,” asked Stacy?
“Italian American Veterans of Foreign Wars, it’s a social club for veterans. My father belonged to a VFW post in Trenton. He served in Vietnam,” said Portia.
“Isn’t this weekend Memorial Day,” asked Stacy?
“Right, and we are going to do something to thank those who served our country in World War Two.”
“What exactly are we going to do,” asked Stacy applying far more eyeliner than she normally wore.
“Mel is giving a party for the remaining veterans of the great war. His grandfather will be there. He won the Distinguished Service Cross and three Purple Hearts at Guadalcanal. We’re going to be part of the entertainment.”
“Are we are going to pop out of a cake naked,” asked Stacy?
“No, nothing that crazy. Mel is putting some old army cots in a back room and decorating it like a barracks. We’re going to entertain the veterans in private.”
“You mean fuck the veterans in private. You said World War Two. My grandfather was in that war. He’s eighty-six.”
“Mel and I discussed that. He said getting them off would be a challenge but he was sure we could handle it. He’ll offer Viagra to those with a weak dick.”
“I just hope there is a defibrillator in the building,” said Stacy. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Just that we’ll be dressed as Army nurses,” said Portia. “I found the kind of lingerie they wore then.”
“That sounds hot.”
“So you’re okay with it,” asked Portia?
“Of course, it’s our patriotic duty,” said Stacy pinching her nipples to make them stand out.
“We look good,” said Portia standing beside Stacy looking into the full-length mirror.
“I’m glad you decided against leather,” said Stacy pulling her hair back in a ponytail. “It’s not comfortable and it never fits right. Plus it’s hot.”
“Mistress Portia is in the mood to whip some Talbot ass,” said Portia brandishing her crop menacingly at her image.
“Mistress Stacy intends to cause serious pain,” said Stacy snapping her crop on the dresser.

***

When the novice dominatrices opened the door to the basement dungeon, they found Kendra and Lloyd kneeling naked on the floor with their heads bowed. Lloyd glanced up when they stepped into the room. He’d experienced difficulties from the moment Stacy arrived taking his eyes of her chest. Now with her breasts fully displayed, he could not resist a look.
“How dare you look at me, you pathetic little worm,” said Stacy pushing Lloyd’s face to the ground securing it in place with the insole of her pump. She struck him hard on the buttocks with the crop. He yelped in pain grabbing his rear. Stacy found the red mark on his butt cheek gratifying.
I hope I don’t get carried away and really hurt him thought Stacy as she delivered a blow to the other buttock. The way the skin depressed and reddened excited her. The force of the blow vibrated through the crop handle into Stacy’s hand. Nerves carried the signal through her arm to her brain where it was reprocessed into a different type of signal that moved down her spine to her sex. Stacy’s vagina became warm and wet.
I’m getting turned on and I just started realized Stacy. Now for the hard part, sustaining the role-play. The fact we’re on camera makes this even more erotic. They had noticed the blinking red lights of the video cameras when they first entered the dungeon. Upstairs in his home office, Lloyd had shown them the computer server whose storage capacity was capable of capturing the entire two-hour session. He’d also shown them the video editing system he would use to create their souvenir DVD.
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” said Lloyd his voice reflecting the pain and fear he was truly feeling. Lloyd had a well-defined submissive persona. He easily slipped into the role of a terrified male helpless to resist a dominant female and desperate for pain and more importantly, humiliation.
His character yearned for the punishment due such an unmanly man. Years of therapy had been unable to cure him of his fixations. No incident or relationship in his development pointed to a cause. His sojourns into gay sex had only increased his desire for corporal punishment. Giving up on psychoanalysis in his early twenties, he decided to embrace his fetish. He could feel his cock stir in response to the burning sensation in his butt cheeks.
“Hold your breasts up. Mother is going to punish you for being a godless whore,” ordered Portia. During lunch, the Talbots had stressed the importance of verbal abuse listing terms having significant meaning to them.
“Yes, Mother,” said Kendra straightening her back and throwing her head back as she cupped her breasts, offering them for punishment. Kendra’s erect nipples signaled her excitement. Even the most casual observer would sense her almost pathological need for mortification.
Kendra attributed her desire for severe physical abuse to a dominating mother and father. Members of a fanatical religious cult who attributed her childhood misbehavior to Satan’s influence, they believed in the adage, spare the rod and spoil the child. They did not hesitate to whip Kendra and her siblings even after they reached adolescence. Adding to the erotic nature of her family’s punishment ritual was the requirement all clothing had to be removed often with the entire cult present.
Kendra rebelled by becoming promiscuous at an early age. Both parents were killed in an automobile accident. She believed S&M filled her need to be punished for disappointing them. In today’s session, she looked at Portia as a stand in mother who would help her reenact one of her most painful and humiliating experiences. It was the time her Mother caught her in Bradford brothers’ van.
Totally by chance, her mother had witnessed her climbing into the van after school. She had followed her to the park, waiting until she detected the van’s rocking motion to fling open the door. She found her daughter servicing both boys at the same time. A naked Kendra’s mouth fully engulfed one brother’s cock while the other was thrusting in from the rear. Calling her whore and slut, her Mom had pulled her out of the van and thrown her to the ground.
The Bradfords boys, delighted at the show, had watched as her Mother used switches she’d cut off an abelia shrub in her family’s back yard to whip her. Her parents following the directions of the cult leader had planted the bush when she was born to have a source of switches.
Kendra vividly remembered cowering naked on the pavement begging her mother to stop. She was in the throes of an orgasm when the door opened and her mother hauled her screaming out into the daylight. The pain of her whipping had become forever associated with sexual pleasure. Her humiliation was magnified when the Bradfords told her classmates what happened.
A second later, the leather tip of Portia’s crop slapped hard against Kendra’s areola causing her to cry out and grab her breast.
“You moved, child,” said Portia taking hold of Kendra’s hair and twisting her head to face her. “Did I tell you to move?”
“No, Mother, you didn’t. Punish me for not obeying,” said Kendra returning her hands to the underside of her breasts as she once more straightened her spine and thrust out her chest leaning her head back. Instantly, Portia landed her crop on Kendra’s other breast causing her to shriek with pain and roll on the floor clutching her wounded mammary.
“Kneel and interlock your fingers behind your head, you pathetic, weak little pervert,” ordered Stacy noting that Lloyd’s cock was hard and a clear drop of semen was perched on the tip.
“Yes, Mistress,” said Lloyd doing as he was told.
“You have a very tiny weenie,” mocked Stacy flicking the tip of the crop across the head of his penis. “There is no way your little dickie could satisfy a woman. Right, slave?”
Actually, Lloyd, you have a good-sized penis and I’m looking forward to fucking you thought Stacy as she circled the kneeling man lightly snapping the crop on his back and chest. However, what man outside of Ellis Trabert thinks his cock is really big enough. There’s not a male on the planet who wouldn’t sell his immortal soul to have ten fat inches slamming into a tight pussy making the female scream as she begged for more.
“You want to suck my cock, queer,” asked Stacy lifting her skirt to allow the dildo to spring up.
“Yes, Mistress Stacy,” said Lloyd his eyes laser focused on the realistic black penis bobbing before him.
“It’s black, your favorite color, right, faggot,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, Mistress,” said Lloyd getting into the scene Kendra had privately suggested to Stacy in an email. Lloyd had recently volunteered as a submissive bottom for a group of black top men at a Down Low sex party. He’d described at length to Kendra the things they did to him and how much it turned him on. He also confessed his guilt at how much he craved black cock especially one in particular.
“You like sucking black dicks, Lloyd” asked Stacy?
“Yes. Mistress,” said Lloyd acknowledging his guilt-ridden desire to be used as a woman by black men.
“Pretend its Roger’s cock and start sucking, you fairy,” ordered Stacy landing the crop of Lloyd’s shoulder causing him to cringe at the pain and the mention of Roger.
Stacy smiled as Lloyd eagerly took the dildo’s mushroom head in his mouth and began sucking it. According to Kendra, Roger Hall was the handsome black coach of Elliot’s soccer team. Lloyd had recently confided to his wife his attraction to Roger. Kendra had suggested Stacy use his secret attraction to further humiliate him.
“Now tell me how much you’d love having Roger’s big black dick in your mouth,” said Stacy.
“I adore having Roger’s cock in my mouth,” said Lloyd in between noisy licks of the shaft. “He can do anything he wants with me. I’ll be his sex slave, his bitch.”
“If you’re a good slave and please your mistress, I’ll stick Roger’s dick in your ass. Would you like that, faggot?” asked Stacy?
“Yes, Mistress, fuck me with Roger’s cock, please. I’ll be good,” said Lloyd.
“That’s enough for now,” said Stacy putting the strapon back under her skirt. She lightly applied the crop to his left nipple. “Did that hurt?”
“No, Mistress,” said Lloyd answering truthfully.
“Offer your man tits to me,” said Stacy.
The eager way he stuck out his chest and forced his shoulders back caused Stacy to marvel at his desire for pain. She didn’t disappoint him. Her crop slashed down on Lloyd’s nipple. He winced, grabbing his chest, but did not cry out. His fully erect cock was bobbing up and down offering an inviting target to her crop.
“Did that hurt, cocksucker,” asked Stacy teasing his right nipple with the tip of her crop?
“Yes, Mistress, again, please,” said Lloyd once more arching his back and thrusting out his chest anxious for the blow he knew was coming.
Stacy struck Lloyd’s nipple with real force this time sending him screaming to the floor both hands clutching his chest leaving his cock exposed. Quickly, she slapped the crop on the underside of his penis below the mushroom head. The shaft of the crop impacted the cockhead itself. An ear splitting shriek resulted. Whimpering and sobbing, Lloyd rolled into a tight ball clutching his chest and privates.
“Did that hurt, cocksucker,” asked Stacy stepping to where she stood straddle of him?
Still nursing his burning pectoral and penis, he managed to croak, “Yes, Mistress.”
“I thought so. All fours, slave,” said Stacy moving to the next part of the program.
“You too, Kendra. Mother wants to ride her godless whore of a daughter,” said Portia after finishing the delivery of a half dozen blows to Kendra’s now red and burning breasts. Per her instructions, Portia had punished each breast managing to land the flexible leather end of the crop on the very tip of each breast. A marginal note in her program had suggested, ‘As hard as you can.’
Before each blow, Kendra was required to recite, “I am a child of Satan. Mother must punish me for my sins.”
Portia was amazed at Kendra’s capacity for sustaining all six blows acknowledging she would have given up at the first one. Each strike sent Kendra rolling on the floor screaming in pain clutching her wounded flesh. But in a matter of seconds she returned to the kneeling position, repeated her call for punishment and offer her chest to the crop.
“Take me for a ride, cocksucker,” said Stacy straddling Lloyd’s back allowing her wet sex to come in contact with his back.
“We’ll ride together,” said Portia mounting Kendra’s back.
For the next several minutes, the two slaves carried their mistresses around the dungeon while Stacy and Portia frequently applied their crops to their bottoms and thighs.
Stacy was surprised Lloyd retained his erection even while she was whipping him mercilessly. Portia noted that in spite of her frequent use of the crop, Kendra’s nipples were erect and her clit was engorged enough to protrude beyond her labia.
“You’re wet, daughter,” said Portia roughly feeling Kendra’s sex. Portia covered her hand with the slave’s vaginal fluids then held them to Kendra’s mouth. “Lick my finger, slut.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Kendra taking Portia’s fingers into her mouth.
“These slaves are useless as horses. Let’s see how they perform orally,” said Stacy stopping the ride.
“On your back, you little tramp,” said Portia applying the crop to Kendra’s backside.
“You want to eat your Mistress’ pussy,” asked Stacy as she stood with her pumps on each side of Lloyd’s head facing his feet. She maintained contact between the crop and his cock, tapping the head repeatedly, hard enough to sting the sensitive flesh.
“Yes, Mistress,” said Lloyd looking pleased at the opportunity.
Portia parted her labia as she lowered her sex to Kendra’s face “Are you a pussy eating whore who can’t wait to get her tongue in her Mother’s cunt?”
“Yes, Mother, I want to eat your pussy,” said Kendra eagerly rolling onto her back. “I want to lick your sex to show you how much I love you.”
“Eat my dirty pussy, cocksucker,” said Stacy lowering her body bringing her unwashed sex in contact with Lloyd’s eager tongue. She hadn’t showered since before her eight o’clock class. Kendra’s instructions stipulated an unbathed sex was preferred. “It’s important we smell your sex not some perfumed soap. Pheromone’s are especially important in S&M.”
“You’re doing a lousy job, you sinful whore,” said Portia striking Kendra directly on her labia causing her to gasp in pain as she squeezed her legs shut. “Open your legs wide, wide as they will go,” ordered Portia slamming the crop down on her bare stomach leaving a red line across her belly. Kendra quickly complied even rotating her ankles outward to further expose her clit.
“My worthless slave has no idea how to lick his Mistress’s sex,” said Stacy forcibly landing the crop on Lloyd’s penis causing him to arch off the floor, grabbing for his pain filled manhood.
“Keep licking, whore,” said Portia tapping harder and harder on Kendra’s vulnerable clitoris. “Tell your Mother you’re sorry for letting those boys have your body.”
“I’m sorry, Mother, I should have not allowed the Bradford boys to fuck me,” said a tearful Kendra. “I’m a whore of Satan.”
“Tell me you love Daddy and me,” said Portia moving her sex over Kendra’s eager tongue.
“I love you and I love Daddy,” said Kendra.
Now comes the tricky part realized Stacy as she prepared to smother Lloyd with her sex. Perfect positioning meant his nose was poking against her anus while her vagina covered his mouth.
“Having trouble breathing, slave,” asked Stacy after she covered his air passages while reaching to take a firm grip on his testicles? At lunch, they had spoken fondly of their desire to be smothered by the dominatrice’s sex. Stacy recalled her time with Faye and how asphyxaphalia had brought her to an orgasm whose intensity was seldom equaled.
“Breathe the air in my pussy,” said Portia cutting off Kendra’s air supply.
It was only when their feet began to tap wildly on the floor that Stacy and Portia relented and allowed the pair to breathe. They repeated the act twice more. Both girls found the experience of smothering a face with their sex highly erotic. Portia made a mental note to suggest it to Monk and Les. Both Lloyd and Kendra emerged with their face and hair covered in glandular secretions.
“Time to suck Mother’s asshole,” said Portia reminding Stacy of the next step in the program. Portia gripped her buttocks pulling them apart.
“Yes. Mother,” said Kendra applying her tongue to Portia’s exposed anus.
“Rim me,” said Stacy snapping the crop down on Lloyd’s scrotum. She flexed her gluts bringing her sphincter in contact with Lloyd’s mouth. She sighed as she felt his tongue push past her open anus, swirling around in the first inch of her rectum.
Portia inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled allowing her sphincter to relax. She felt the pointed tip of Kendra’s tongue pushing inward past her opening.
“Tongue your Mother’s asshole, Kendra. Kiss it. Make love to it with your mouth. Show me how much you enjoy pleasuring your Mother’s ass with your mouth. That’s how Satan’s whores show their love for him,” said Portia.
Stacy and Portia smiled at one another as they enjoyed the eagerly performed anilingus. Still it was not the role of the domina to be pleased with anything this early in an S&M session.
“That was very unsatisfactory. They’ve not performed well at all. They deserve to be whipped,” said Portia.
“I agree. Crawl on your belly to the bench,” said Stacy emphasizing her command by once again striking Lloyd’s cock. It had taken on a reddish hue as a result of repeated blows. She felt exhilarated as he rolled on the floor clutching his wounded groin before crawling the few feet to the punishment bench where he knelt with his arms outstretched eagerly waiting to be restrained then whipped.
The benches were well designed and easy to use. In less than a minute, Lloyd and Kendra were tightly restrained unable to move more than an inch. They were kneeling while leaning forward with their legs spread. Their arms were bound to the cross member that supported their chest. A U-shaped cup attached to an adjustable arm fit under their chin forcing their head up.
This is truly perverse thought Portia as she arranged the straps of the bondage headgear Kendra had selected. Pulling the straps tight, she finished buckling then checked to make sure the blindfold was in place. Next she inserted the hooks in Kendra’s nostrils then released the elastic chord attached to the top of the headgear. Her nose was pulled sharply toward her forehead.
It’s like looking into a shot gun barrel decided Stacy who had finished fitting Lloyd with identical headgear. His nostrils were now flat to his face. Stacy took the black rubber ball and began to squeeze it causing the penis gag to inflate.
Once Kendra’s gag was fully inflated, Portia gave a couple of turns to the red wheel located at the top of the head harness. It slowly tightened around her skull.
This is savage thought Stacy as he tightened Lloyd’s causing the brass studs lining the inside of the harness to dig into the skull. After making a final check of the tightened headgear, Stacy consulted the program sheet unsure of the next step. After reading for a moment and shaking her head in disbelief, she walked to a nearby mini fridge and removed two small bottles of club soda. She handed one to Portia.
They unscrewed the plastic cap, placed their thumb over the open top and shook the bottle. They placed the bottle directly in front of their nostrils. Once more they coordinated their movements so simultaneously Lloyd and Kendra found their nasal sinuses filled with club soda.
Their violent reaction didn’t surprise the two fledgling dominatrice since Portia had found a torture WEB that described the hellish agony of having club soda introduced into your sinuses. Torture with club soda was originally discovered by the Brazilian secret police who adopted it as a standard because it left no visible damage. The WEB site noted its more recent use by devotees of S&M.
Every muscle and sinew in their body became visible as they struggled against the agony of tiny small bubbles of gas exploding inside the highly sensitive cavities located in the front of their skull. Portia and Stacy watched quietly until Lloyd and Kendra recovered somewhat then repeated the application twice more.
Their struggles remind Stacy of her experience at the Auto-De-Fe. She had spent two hours on an identical bench being whipped then subjected to electrical torture. She vividly recalled with a shudder Mistress Charlize forcing his oversized cock in her shocked vagina and asshole.
Club soda torture complete, Portia and Stacy removed the gags by pressing the air release valve on the inflation bulbs.
“See what happens to girls who disobey their Mother and let boys stick their nasty penises in them,” said Portia.
“Yes, Mother, I was evil and I deserved to be punished,” said Kendra after taking several deep breaths to recover from her ordeal. She had left like her brain was exploding inside her skull.
“How was it, cocksucker,” asked Stacy taking the gag out of Lloyd’s mouth.
“Horrible, the worst, Mistress,” said Lloyd his voice slightly distorted by the hooks in his nostrils.
Stacy’s hand moved over Lloyd’s lower back down the crack of his ass lingering on his sphincter. Lloyd moaned as Stacy pressed the pad of her finger against his anus.
“You like having your ass filled. Don’t you, slave,” asked Stacy.
“Yes, Mistress,” said Lloyd.
“Is that because you’re a queer,” asked Stacy?
“No, Mistress,” said Lloyd pushing back eager to be penetrated.
“You want me to fuck you in the ass,” asked Stacy as she forced the tip of her finger in his butthole then worked it in a circle?
“Yes, Mistress, please,” said Lloyd.
“And since queers are the ones who like to be fucked in the ass, you must be one,” said Stacy moving her finger forward to enter Lloyd’s sphincter. The experienced digit sought out his prostate then began a slow stroking of the gland. Lloyd moaned, as a single drop of semen existed his penis.
“No, Mistress,” said Lloyd feeling intense pleasure from Stacy’s stroking.
“Let’s see how you like this in your ass, faggot,” said Stacy accepting the anal probe from Portia preparing to force a similar instrument into Kendra’s rectum. She stepped to Lloyd’s front to show him the marital aid. Constructed of concentric donut shaped rings graduated in size, the ring at the base was as wide as Stacy’s hand when the smallest one was no bigger than her thumb. A narrow neck and T-shaped handle allow the anus to close keeping the fully inserted probe in the rectum. Portia had coated both probes with Slide.
“Oh God, no, Mother, please don’t,” cried Kendra as Portia breached the center of her anal ring. Although Kendra was a much smaller person than her husband both probes were identical in size.
It hardly seems fair since she’s so much smaller but she said her competitive nature required her to take it. This will definitely fill her large intestine realized Portia as she began to push the probe inside Kendra’s rectum halting occasionally to hand spank her buttocks.
“Hear that, Lloyd. Your slut wife says her probe hurts. Let’s see how you do,” said Stacy as she pushed hard on the T-shaped handle forcing the first two smaller rings past his sphincter.
“Oh, Jesus, that hurts, take it out Mistress, please,” begged Lloyd.
Stacy responded by forcing two additional rings past Lloyd’s overstretched anal ring. On a signal from Portia, they coordinated the final complete entry of the probes. It took considerable effort to force the last and largest of the rings past their sphincter. Husband and wife screamed in pain then pleaded for the probes to be removed.
“Are you getting as turned on as I am,” whispered Stacy to Portia as they held the handles of the butt plugs twisting then partially removing them only to be fully inserted once more.
Portia grabbed Stacy’s hand and brought it to her vulva pressing it into the wet slimy fluid coating her sex while whispering, “What do you think?”
Stacy licked her fingers tasting Portia as she once again pushed the plug inward until the handle lined up with Lloyd’s butt crack and no greater penetration could be achieved.
Stacy took a firm grip on Lloyd’s ball sack pulling it away from his body before twisting and squeezing his testicles. “Did that hurt, slave,” asked a smiling Stacy?
“Yes, Mistress, it hurt like hell,” said Lloyd still trying to cope with the pressure of having such a large object in his rectum.
“Now what do we have here,” taunted Stacy covering the tip of her finger with the clear semen oozing out Lloyd’s piss slit? “Stick out your tongue, Lloyd.” When he complied, she placed her fingers in his mouth. “What does that taste like, Lloyd?”
“My come, Mistress,” answered Lloyd.
“You like eating your own spunk, slave,” asked Stacy? Portia was following Stacy’s lead, filling Kendra’s mouth with her fluid covered fingers.
“Yes, Mistress,” said Lloyd sucking on Stacy’s fingers.
“Queer, faggot, fairy, admit it,” said Stacy contemptuously slamming the crop against his backside.
“Yes, mistress, I’m a faggot,” said Lloyd his eyes filling with tears as he fulfilled his desire to be totally humiliated by being forced to confess he engaged in homosexual acts. In his favorite masturbatory fantasy, he was naked in Lexington’s main square using a public address system to announce his desire for men’s cocks.
“Gay men prize large cocks so I’m going to make yours longer,” said Stacy reaching for the Jakarta Cock and Ball Stretcher.
“Thank you mistress,” said Lloyd.
Stacy slipped the leather strap of the device around the base of Lloyd’s scrotum and over the top of his cock then pulled it tight securing it so the blood filling his fully erect penis could not escape. Next she grasped the large mushroom head, stretching it to the point Lloyd loudly protested she was ripping his dick off. She then allowed the spring loaded metal ring to snap shut around the under lip crushing the cockhead.
“Oh my God, take it off,” screamed Lloyd.
“We’re just getting started. I need to stretch you first,” said Stacy casually.
How ingenious thought Stacy as she turned the small screw securing the head of his penis? Stacy turned the knobs at the base of the device. A few quick turns and she had Lloyd’s cock and balls stretched beyond its normal length. She glanced over at the wall where Emily Slocum’s paintings were displayed. The effect was not unlike the rawhide stretched privates Emily’s father had experienced.
A few turns of the other knob and the pins lining the inside of the device came in contact with his sensitive flesh of his shaft. Loud screams of pain soaked into the sound proof material lining the walls of the dungeon.
That is torture at its worst observed Stacy as she turned the two wheels causing Lloyd’s scrotum to slowly stretch away from its mooring. The skin was shiny almost translucent when the maximum length was reached. She could only imagine how it felt to have the hundreds of needle sharp pins burrowing into his overstretched penis. Stacy’s attention was diverted when she heard Kendra sound an ungodly cry of pain.
“Longer nipples for you,” said Portia fastening the snaps of Satan’s Breasts in the center of Kendra’s back. The cone shaped mesh covered her breasts.
It is a brassiere Satan would dream up thought Portia as she fitted the device on Kendra. Portia in her WEB searches for instruments of torture had noted the prevalence of devices intended to torture the female’s breasts. That was to be expected given most such devices were designed by men.
Her thoughts went back to the paintball hunt of several weeks ago and the application of the Bangkok Bud Crushers to her own breasts. The device had been coated with Stacy’s blood when the two sadists gleefully applied it to her. The sound of her screams had proven to be just the aphrodisiac the men required to repeatedly slam their cocks into her until Leslie’s air horn announced the hunt was over. With their laughter in her ears, she had rolled on the forest floor clutching her breasts when they removed the devices.
Portia positioned Kendra’s nipple though the small ring at the top of the cone then grasped it with a pair of Kelly forceps and pulled until the nodule of flesh was well past the spring-loaded clamp. Ignoring Kendra’s loud protests her nipple was being ripped off, Portia triggered the nipple restraint. With an audible click the clamp’s jagged metal teeth bit into her flesh.
“Take it off, Mother, please,” said Kendra once the pain had subsided to the point she could speak.
“Does it hurt more than when the Bradford boys were sucking them,” asked Portia working the other nipple to the point she could grasp in with the forceps.
“Yes, Oh God, Mother, please take it off. I’ll be good,” said Kendra.
Portia fitted the other nipple in half the time it took for the first. She shook each breast to assure the device was properly fitted. Next, she twisted the small wheel on the side of the wire mesh cone extending and collapsing it at the same time. The squares formed by the mesh slowly filled with the soft flesh as Kendra fought to control the pain.
“Come look, Mistress Stacy. This is fucking incredible,” said Portia when both of Kendra’s breasts were fully deformed into perfect cones. Drops of blood were slowly dripping onto the dungeon floor.
“Her nipples must be at least two inches,” said Stacy observing the results of Portia’s efforts.
“Please take them off, Mother. I can’t stand the pain,” said Kendra her eyes tearing.
“Now why would I do that, Kendra? Maybe the next time you offer those boys your titties, you’ll recall how it felt to be punished,” said Portia.
“Here,” said Stacy offering Portia the container of zippers.
Applying the zippers proved quick and easy causing Stacy to understand their popularity in the S&M lifestyle. Constructed of inexpensive items found in any home, they were simple to use and capable of causing horrific pain.
Going by the diagram Kendra provided, one zipper was placed on the upper arm running from the elbow to the armpit. Another went from the back of the knee along the inner thigh.
Portia attached a short zipper to each side of Kendra’s labia while Stacy circled Lloyd’s pectoral attaching the last to his nipple. Both slaves whimpered in pain as the girls applied the zippers occasionally consulting the diagram.
“Time to warm their bottoms,” said Stacy opening the cabinet containing a selection of whips and paddles. Stacy handled Portia one of the two nine-strand floggers keeping one for her.
“We whip. You count,” said Portia taking a position at Kendra’s rear.
“One,” they howled in unison as the nine strands of braided kangaroo leather landed on their buttocks. During lunch, they had emphasized how important they were whipped as a couple.
“In a good S&M marriage, the man and wife enjoy suffering the same torments together,” was how Kendra expressed it.
By the time, they screamed ten their backsides from the top of their shoulder to the backs of their thighs were turning red and Stacy felt so exhilarated she was having trouble maintaining control. She was finding it difficult not to masturbate with the flogger’s handle. The sound of the flogger landing on bare flesh followed by their loud screams of pain had brought her to the verge of auto-orgasm.
“I’m about to climax,” whispered Stacy to Portia as they were putting the floggers back in the cabinet.
“This is much more exciting than the S&M I did with my sister. Of course, she was whipping my ass,” said Portia handing Stacy an oval shaped leather covered paddle similar to the one Simone had used on Stacy at the auto-de-fe.
“It’s exciting being the paddler this time,” said Stacy recalling how her bottom exploded in pain each time Simone’s paddle came in contact with her bare butt.
The ritual began with screams of “One” proceeded by the noise of the brass studded oval landing with considerable force on bare flesh. On the fifth blow, Kendra failed to sound the count and it had to be restarted. Portia suspected Kendra’s failure was on purpose. A manual check of her vagina revealed it was dripping fluid.
“They really get off on this,” said Portia when they were placing the paddles back on their hooks.
“So do I,” said Stacy reaching for two flexible bamboo canes.
In Portia’s mind, the canes were the worst not that the floggers or the paddles were anything less than god-awful. But the way the canes made a whirring sound as they disturbed the air was terrifying in itself.
Stacy returned her cane to the wall rack after Lloyd had managed to shriek ten. His entire body was shaking and he was crying real tears. Stacy closed her eyes as she placed her hands on his trembling buttocks. His flesh felt amazingly warm to her touch. Her fingers lightly traced along the raised flesh of a welt savoring not only the warmth but also the thin line where the cane had landed.
Both mistresses rested the side of their face on the warm reddened buttocks of the submissives. They widened their stances slightly as they reached between their legs and began to masturbate. The forked fingers of one hand captured their clit as fingers of their other hand entered their vagina.
It took only moments for the two to bring themselves to an orgasm that lasted several minutes. Once they had recovered, they turned out the lights and left the room.
But instead of playing video games as they had planned, the girls took turns performing orally on each other. A half hour later they returned to the dungeon.


Chapter 45 Vanilla In Suburbia


Both Kendra and Lloyd were whimpering when Portia and Stacy returned to the pitch-black home dungeon. Their labored breath could be heard throughout the large room. It had been exactly thirty-eight minutes since the dominas left.
The delay was caused by the fact neither girl could see the clock with her head between the other’s legs. Using mouths and fingers, they had attacked each other’s sex like powerful jungle cats in season.
“Doesn’t that sound awesome,” asked Portia hesitating a moment before she flipped the light switch?
“Let’s just stand here a moment and enjoy it,” said Stacy taking Portia in her arms for a kiss.
“You smell like my pussy,” giggled Portia inhaling the scent of her sex off Stacy’s face.
“And you taste like mine,” said Stacy tugging at Portia lower lip.
“Guess we better get back to work,” said Portia reluctantly ending their embrace.
“Torture is such a demanding profession,” said Stacy as she reached for the light switch.
“I hope Kendra thinks twice before she lets the Bradford boys put their nasty cocks in her again,” said Portia in a loud voice as she slowly circled Kendra listening to her breath and the rasping sounds she was making with the back of her throat.
“I’ll be good, Mother. I promise,” said Kendra in a whisper.
“His ass is so beautifully striped,” said Stacy lightly passing her palm over Lloyd’s buttocks feeling where the cane had raised whelps.
“They’re sweating like pigs,” said Portia trailing her fingers over Kendra’s brow.
“I think they deserve a good butt fucking,” said Stacy taking hold of the T-shaped handle embedded on the crack of Lloyd’s ass. “The anal probe has certainly got them ready for it.”
“I agree, Mistress Stacy,” said Portia grasping the handle of Kendra’s probe and twisting it a half turn.
“Please no, Mother,” said Kendra experiencing a sharp cramp in her lower GI tract as the intestine contracted.
Both Kendra and Lloyd had stressed the importance of simultaneity. It was important they experienced identical pain in the same instant. Neither Portia nor Stacy had any idea why but agreed to comply with their request. Portia theorized it was based on being an S&M couple as opposed to individual sufferers.
Using a silent three-finger count, the girls extracted the anal probes simultaneously causing the couple to scream together. Portia’s musically trained ear marveled at the resulting two-part harmony of pain as their voices reached a crescendo in response to having the donut shaped probe removed in the same split second. Lloyd’s tenor cry blended with Kendra’s soprano to fill the room.
Stacy had noted during the earlier phase when she and Portia had applied the floggers, paddles, and cane, there had been a competition among the two to see who could remain silent the longest. Lloyd had howled at the fifth strike of the flogger when several strands found his most vulnerable flesh; but Kendra held off until the sixth blow when the flogger exploded on her labia and clitoris. Lloyd had won the contest with the paddle holding back until the count reached seven; however, both slaves had screamed at the first blow of the bamboo cane.
The ways of the S&M couple are strange decided Stacy as she waited for the Talbots to end their duet of anguish.
“Ready, Mistress Portia,” asked Stacy coating her strapon dildo with lubricant?
“Almost,” said Portia, who had the more difficult task of positioning her combination vagina and anal strapon in both of Kendra’s orifices.
Stacy felt Lloyd’s body tense as the blunt rough head of the dildo was placed at the center of his sphincter. She reached forward taking hold of the punishment bench for leverage.
“I’m going to ram this so far up you ass you can taste your own shit,’ whispered Stacy in Lloyd’s ear.
Three nods of Portia’s head and they pushed forward. A loud groan escaped Lloyd’s lips as the lubricated dildo sailed through his rectum, its rubber nodules raking across the interior wall carving a trail of pain.
“Oh My God,” whispered Kendra when she felt both orifices fill. The spiny surface of the dildo abraded her G-spot. It dug groves in the soft flesh as it passed inward.
Stacy and Portia experienced powerful repeated waves of sensation from their new strapon. The company’s claim their product gave intense pleasure to the wearer proved correct. Both girls felt almost giddy as their thrusting created waves of ecstasy deep inside their vagina.
My G-spot is in fucking heaven thought Stacy realizing that the harder she pounded the faux cock in Lloyd’s ass the greater the pleasure inside her. I could fuck him all day.
Achieving near perfect coordination at the point of maximum penetration, each mistress took hold of the zipper attached to the Talbot’s left inner thigh and pulled it free. The chord jerked ten times as the plastic clothespins released their hold. The shock was so great it took the Talbots several seconds to process the arrivals of ten messages to their brain something horrible had occurred.
Portia gripped Kendra’s trembling flanks sensing her terrible agony through her hands and the expression of wretchedness that sprang from her mouth.
Lloyd’s violent reaction to the removal of the zipper was captured by the strapon now buried a full twelve inches in his ass. The unleashed power traveled up the interconnected shafts reaching the part embedded in Stacy’s vagina where it passed into her G-spot bringing her to orgasm.
“Oh shit, I love it,” said Stacy drawing the dildo back for another surge forward.
When the unbearable agony of blood returning to ten places it had been forced to vacate had almost subsided, both girls withdrew the strapon dildo to the entrance, hooked their forefinger in the plastic ring of the zipper chord attached to the right forearm and once again with perfect timing jerked it free as they thrust forward. The flesh of the underarm and armpit proved highly receptive to the agony created by the quick release of a zipper. Both Talbots screamed as they twisted in their restraints, their side a searing cauldron of pain.
Anguish consumed the two when they felt the first clothespin release the quarter inch of compressed tissue at their elbow. The click of the last three pinchers exiting their armpits preceded the most violent reaction thus far witnessed by Stacy and Portia. Stacy contracted her G-spot against the dildo absorbing the impact of Lloyd’s reaction.
Getting your ass and pussy reamed while having zippers jerked off has got to be at the top of the pain charts decided Portia as her senses drank in Kendra’s reaction. She leaned down to lick Kendra’s spinal column.
“You can taste their pain,” said Portia.
Stacy imitate Portia. Her tongue captured the thin line of sweat gathered in the depression of Lloyd’s spine. His perspiration does taste odd decided Stacy. Maybe pain does have a flavor.
The ritual continued until all the zippers were removed. Both Talbots appeared out of their minds with the wretchedness of their state. Every muscle and tendon in their well-maintained bodies became visible as they struggled to deal with not only the agony of the zipper just removed but also the knowledge others remained.
By the time they finished, the Talbots seemed only half alive. Lloyd was pleading not to be hurt any more while Kendra was opening weeping while she begged her Mother’s forgiveness.
They’ve broken and that’s exactly what they wanted realized Portia as she listened to Kendra’s pleas for her Mother to forgive her. Portia placed her hand at Kendra’s lips where it was covered with wet kisses as she loudly proclaimed her love.
“Please, I can’t take anymore,” whispered Lloyd when Stacy placed her face beside his. He sounded desperate.
“Time to release our slaves,” said Portia quickly turning the wheels to free Kendra from Satan’s Breasts.
Stacy freed Lloyd from his recent CBT acquisition. His cock and balls were discolored and his scrotum appeared permanently extended.
“Time for your reward, let’s see if your pecker still works,” said Stacy slipping between and under his legs to take his tortured manhood in her mouth as she worked his loosened asshole with all four fingers. Her experienced fingers found his prostate and began the rubbing action so beloved by the male.
Portia took the same position as Stacy inserting two fingers in Kendra’s pussy to stroke her G-spot while her other hand stretched her sensitive anal ring. Portia applied her tongue and lips to Kendra’s clitoris and labia bringing forth loud moans of pleasure accompanied by whispers hinting of long suppressed desires.
“Eat my pussy, Mother. I love you. Make your evil godless daughter come,” said Kendra in a tone expressing the terrible intensity of her feelings.
Lloyd’s cock felt rock hard in Stacy’s mouth. Her hand griped his testicles with a strength other men would have protested.
Portia and Stacy were surprised both became quickly aroused in spite of the punishment their body’s had absorbed. Their orgasms consumed almost the same amount of energy as removing the zippers.
Unusually thick and creamy, like Hagen Daz, my favorite, thought Stacy as Lloyd’s jerking cock squirted semen in her mouth. It tastes concentrated. I wonder if all the energy he’s expended has distilled his semen. I need to get Portia’s opinion. It’s certainly a mouthful of heavy cream.
Stacy carefully climbed out from under Lloyd and walked around to the front of the punishment bench where she released his wrists and ankles.
“Here’s your portion, Lloyd,” said Stacy kneeling down her face mere inches from his.
“Yes, Mistress,” said Lloyd his eyes closed to maximize his concentration.
Stacy placed her lips against his, pushed her tongue into his mouth then transferred half the contents.
“Don’t swallow,” said Stacy ending the kiss. “Share it with your lovely wife.”
Lloyd got unsteadily to his feet as Portia helped Kendra to standing. Stacy and Portia positioned the Talbots facing one another.
“Open your mouth, Kendra and accept Lloyd’s offering,” said Portia sensing the surrealness of the moment. During the last two hours the pair had chosen to endure unspeakable pain together. It created a unique bond based on shared experiences few couples would chose to duplicate.
Kendra placed her naked body against her husband’s embraced him and tilted her head back with her mouth wide open. Lloyd’s head tilted forward spilling the contents of his mouth into Kendra’s.
“Very nicely done,” said Stacy thinking it would make an excellent painting to add to Lloyd’s collection. Stacy embraced Portia imitating Lloyd. The white fluid, it’s volume increased by Stacy’s saliva, flowed over her lower lip into Portia’s open mouth.
“Let’s swallow together,” said Stacy as the four joined hands in a circle.
Seconds later they tilted their heads back and swallowed.
“Wow, that was really something,” said Portia wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“You two were incredible for novices,” said Lloyd taking bottles of water out of the mini-fridge and handing them out.
“I found it very erotic, bordering on the spiritual,” said Portia.
“You two have the most amazing relationship. Kendra, are there any more Lloyd’s where you got him,” asked Stacy?
“Afraid not, he’s unique,” said Kendra hugging her husband.
“Let’s go upstairs, get cleaned up, and take a nap. Leo and Lionel and the others will be here at seven. They’re bringing reinforcements to make sure you horny college girls get enough cock,” said Lloyd.
“And we’ve invited some old friends who we’ve swapped with before,” said Kendra. “We want to expose you to different points of view about the swinging lifestyle.”

***

“The secret to a good swap party is having extra men,” said Kendra watching as Lloyd handed beers to the six men who had just arrived. The three women were seated on the steps in the shallow end of the Talbot’s pool sipping a glass of wine. The men chatted with Lloyd who was standing at the grill cooking. They were occasionally glancing at the three naked women.
“Really, even in this day of stay-hard drugs,” said Portia.
“ED drugs can keep a cock hard but it’s still only one dick and sometimes I want all my holes filled. A good swap party needs a two to one ratio of boys to girls. And if the guys have used pharmaceuticals to turbo charge their libido, that’s even better,” said Kendra.
“I bet I can guess which two are Lloyd’s brothers,” said Portia noting that two of the men bore a strong resemblance.
“There is a definite family resemblance especially in their penises. Even I couldn’t tell which was Lloyd’s cock one night when someone bet me I couldn’t identify my own husband’s by sucking off all three.”
“That must have been embarrassing, and fun,” said Stacy.
“It was Marge Endicott’s idea. She and Ted are coming tonight. They’re among our oldest friends in the lifestyle. Marge bet me twenty dollars I couldn’t tell one dick from the other. They blindfolded me and tied my hands behind my back.”
“I’m not sure I could tell Monk from Les under those circumstances,” said Portia.
“Your husband and his brothers are handsome,” said Stacy.
“Lloyd, Lionel, and Leo, the three sons of Lee Anne and Lincoln Talbot. My in-laws didn’t speak to me for a year when I refused to christen either of our children with a first name beginning with an L. I compromised on Nicole. She is Nicole Lenore Talbot. By the way, the name of their company is Talbot Metal Works and those six all work there. Lloyd is the Talbot brother who did not go into the family business.”
“How did you meet Lloyd,” asked Portia?
“At an S&M club in New York. I was still in college. I’d gone there for a weekend with some girl friends. You got in free if you agreed to spend an hour in the stocks letting dominants whip your bare ass. Lloyd was a dominant in those days. He used an antique bamboo cane that once belonged to a member of the Hellfire Club. He was visiting friends in the city. Funny, two Bostonians meeting in a New York sex club,” said Kendra.
“Some things are just meant to be,” said Portia.
“When I managed to keep quiet after five strokes, he was impressed enough to hang around until my hour was over and buy me a soda and rub cream on my butt. I have to admit that if I hadn’t thought he was cute, I would have screamed my head off the instant that polished bamboo touched my bottom. It was love of pain at first sight,” said Kendra.
“Sounds romantic,” said Portia.
“I was besmitten. The dominant males I’d met before Lloyd were total losers. He was educated, intelligent and understood my needs.”
“So you became a couple,” said Stacy?
“Yes, a year later we became engaged. We got married a day after we graduated.”
“And Leo and Lionel,” asked Stacy?
“Both recently divorced. Their wives were real losers, too. I could fix you up if you’re interested,” said Kendra.
“Sorry but I’ll have to pass. I’m in a relationship,” said Stacy.
“Me too, they look like nice guys but fucking is as far as I’m willing to go,” said Portia.
“What can you tell us about them, sex-wise,” asked Stacy looking at the men.
“Somebody’s horny,” laughed Kendra. Leo and Lionel are like their older brother, seven inches of thick meat with a classic mushroom head. A girl can tell they’re brothers simply by sucking their cocks.”
“Genetically well endowed,” said Portia.
“Staying power is average. They prefer the girl on top and being brothers like to double and triple team. Since you two love anal, that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve had all three Talbot brothers inside me more times than I can count.”
“So you’ve done it with your brothers in law,” asked Portia?
“The Talbot boys share everything. I consider them family and leave it at that,” said Kendra. “I did their wives when they were still together.”
“Why did they get divorced,” asked Portia?
“Donna and Rachel had an affair and the brothers found out,” said Kendra.
“Who with,” asked Stacy?
“Each other, now they live together in a condo in Belmont. The cunts had the nerve to send me a wedding invitation. Just because we went down on one another, doesn’t mean I’m not a Talbot first. Don’t tell Leo and Lionel I told you,” said Kendra. “They’re sensitive about others knowing their wives turned out to be a pair of rug munching dykes.”
“We won’t,” said Portia.
“The blonde surfer type is Sean. Good kisser and pussy eater, very oral, likes sixty-nine, loves to rim and be rimed, his long thin dick is just made for ass fucking or deep throating. The short Italian looking one is Michael. He’s the VP of Marketing and a smooth talker. He’s furry and uncut. I always have to pick pubic hair out of my teeth after I suck his dick.”
“Thank God, more men are shaving their cocks these days. Most of the guys we fuck at Harvard are smooth,” said Portia.
“That must be nice. Nothing worse than coughing up a hair ball after several wooly guys have skull fucked you,” said Kendra.
“We know these two students who have Prince Alberts,” said Portia. “That’s a totally different feeling especially when it is DP.”
“You can feel the metal traveling up and down your vagina and rectum. It’s something every woman should experience,” said Stacy.
“I have never had a pierced cock in me. But I would love to give it a try,” said Kendra.
“Come by our place some time and we’ll have Monk and Les give you the heavy metal experience,” said Portia.
“Are you serious? I might just take you up on that,” said Kendra.
“Do, we’d love to arrange it. You’ve been so nice to us,” said Stacy. “You could spend the afternoon learning first hand why Queen Victoria grieved for fifteen years when her Albert died.”
“Are you sure two Harvard boys would be willing to service an old married woman,” asked Kendra?
“You are a beautiful woman, Kendra, and I guarantee they will go nuts over you,” said Stacy hugging her.
“They like to double stuff and having both Prince Alberts in the same hole is an awesome experience,” said Portia.
“I’ll email when I can come,” said Kendra. “I better finish giving the lowdown because they’re about to join us. Tom, he’s Japanese and the company’s chief engineer. He’s new. I’ve only screwed him twice. He’s into Japanese rope bondage. He showed me some pictures of some of his work, very esoteric. He’ll pound you hard but his dick is average. That leaves Sven, the Swede. He’s the metallurgist and very smart. We girl’s call his penis, Thor’s Hammer. It’s the largest I’ve ever handled, ten inches. Plus, it has a double curve.”
“Double curve,” questioned Stacy?
“When it gets hard, it curves upward and to the right. Has a different feeling from other dicks when it’s inside you,” said Kendra. “Sven’s a typical Swede, loves to fuck, goes until he’s exhausted. He once screwed me missionary style for an hour. I’m talking a solid sixty minutes of pussy pounding intercourse. I thought I was going to have to have my cunt relined.”
“Here they come,” said Stacy arching her back to raise her breasts.

***

“Mind if I join you,” asked Stacy speaking to the elderly couple seated on the chaise? They were watching Portia service the three Talbot brothers. She was in the middle of the room on a mat being tripled penetrated.
“Of course, dear,” said Marge Endicott making room for Stacy to take a seat between her and her husband.
“These are truly extraordinary,” said Ted cupping Stacy’s breast with his hand while bending over to suck her nipple.
“Thank you, Ted. I have my mother’s side of the family to thank for them,” said Stacy.
“Men, especially ones who were breast fed, are mammary fixated,” said Marge. “Ted’s mother breast fed all six of her children. Her nipples were two inches long when she passed on.”
“You’re exaggerating, Marge,” said Ted leaning down to kiss Stacy’s other breast. “Mom’s zickers were an inch and a half at most. The reality is women get off having those tiny lips pulsing away on their dug. Mother breast-fed her youngest until he was almost four. Dad had to put a stop to it or Aaron would still be drinking off her tits.”
“I’ve read women feel guilty about the pleasure they feel from breast feeding,” said Stacy.
“Believe me, Stacy, when Sophia Endicott was laid out in her coffin, they had to bend them over to close the lid. I would have passed on the nude burial if my boobs looked like hers. But let’s not speak ill of the dead.”
“Ted’s mother was buried in the nude,” asked Stacy reaching to take Ted’s aged cock in her hand. It felt almost silky to the touch.
“All the Endicott’s were, at least most of them. Ted’s great grandfather founded the New England Naturalist’s Society,” said Marge.
“So they were nudists,” said Stacy.
“Yes, my father and mother only wore clothes when they had to,” said Ted. “They lived on a dairy farm outside Manchester, New Hampshire. It was two miles from the nearest road. The property included a lake. In the summer they ran a naturalist camp.”
“I’ve read Naturalists are pretty strict about sexual behavior,” said Stacy.
“A hardon would get your kicked out in the blink of an eye,” said Ted relaxing back into the chaise as his penis responded to Stacy’s stroking.
“Ted’s parents were into healthy nudism not sex. Ted’s the black sheep of the Endicott’s,” said Marge spreading her legs so Stacy could place her hand on her sex.
“According to my Dad, clothes were why everyone wanted illicit sex. Covering the human body made it shameful and increased lustful behavior. My parents believed that if everyone went naked, sex would be limited to procreation. They firmly believed in the cause; but I decided at an early age, they were full of shit,” said Ted.
“Ted misbehaved at his dad’s summer camp,” said Marge before turning to kiss Stacy.
“Dad caught me screwing Mrs. Trimble in the tool shed. The fact Mr. Trimble was present added to Dad’s displeasure.”
“So what did he do,” asked Stacy?
“Whipped my butt with his belt then banned me from summer camp,” said Ted. “And he sent the Trimbles packing.”
“How about you, Marge? Was your childhood as exotic as Ted’s?” asked Stacy.
“Not at all, my parents were school teachers right here in Lexington. They were descendants of the Puritans and they acted accordingly. They were very strict with my sister and me. But in my case, it didn’t take, especially when it came to sex. Once I discovered what that thing between my legs was capable of, I was off,” said Marge.
“Tell Stacy what you did in high school,” said Ted.
“I had sex with every boy in my class except for the two who were gay,” said Marge.
“She has an annual where she drew an X over the faces of the ones she bonked,” said Ted.
“I also wrote down the date and time of intercourse and made evaluative comments,” said Marge.
“Kendra said you were swingers back when that was a pejorative term,” said Stacy.
“I’m seventy four and Ted’s seventy six. We have been swinging with other couples and singles for over five decades,” said Marge. “I’ve lost count of the number of men and women I’ve been with.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” said Stacy.
“Things were much different when we started,” said Ted.
“How,” asked Stacy?
“No computers for one thing, no WEB or Internet. It was hard to find out who the other swingers were,” said Marge.
“So how did you meet,” asked Stacy?
“You had to know somebody to get started. Marge’s best friend and her husband were our first,” said Ted.
“We’d only been married a year. Our sex life was slowing down. Grace and I had been best friends since college. We roomed together at Sarah Lawrence,” said Marge.
“And ate each other’s pussy,” added Ted.
“I’m telling this story, Theodore. One day at lunch, I came right out and asked her how she and Jim kept it interesting and vital,” said Marge.
“She suggested wife swapping,” said Stacy impressed she was now stroking Ted’s fully erect cock. A half hour before he had finished in Portia then announced he was going to take it easy for the rest of the evening.
“Not at first, we started with voyeurism,” said Marge.
“You watched each other,” asked Stacy?
“That was as far as many swinging couples were willing to go in those days,” said Ted.
“Portia and I have these friends at school, Monk and Les. Sometimes Monk and I will watch Portia and Les then they watch us.”
“Your friend Portia has a nut cracker. When I mentioned it to her, she said that if I wanted to experience the ultimate in nut crackers, I should put my Johnson in you,” said Ted adding his hand to his wife’s.
“I’d love to do the both of you but first I’d like to hear more about the early days of wife swapping,” said Stacy spreading her legs to open her sex.
“Picture this, the four of us are on Grace and Jim’s couch making out,” said Marge.
“We’d consumed several rounds of cocktails to summon our Dutch courage,” said Ted.
“Clothes slowly came off until the four of us were buck naked. I screwed Marge while Jim does Grace. Then we got dressed and went home. Today, it sounds pretty tame but in those days it was a big deal. You could go to jail for lascivious conduct,” said Ted.
“But things progressed,” said Stacy.
“Next time, Grace and Marge went down on each other,” said Ted.
“You’ve got it all wrong. The next time I jerked Jim off while Grace did you,” said Marge. “It wasn’t until the fourth time Grace and I did anything together and that was only because we were drunk.”
“Ate each other’s cunts like a pair of Parisian diesel dykes,” said Ted. “Ate each other’s butt too. Eating ass was a novelty in those days.”
“Lesbianism was considered a terrible sin when we were younger,” said Marge.
“One night, old Jim and I were pumping away in our wives. Marge and Grace were seated on the couch side by side playing with each other’s tits. Jim and I exchanged looks and that was it. We switched places. Never said a word just did it.”
“Spontaneity is best sometimes,” said Marge.
“True, but you moved on from there,” asked Stacy?
“It turned out Jim and Grace were already members of a wife swapping club that met once a month at a motel just across the border in Seabrook, New Hampshire. You won’t believe this but it was called Love’s Motel. A guy named George Love built it,” said Ted.
“They didn’t tell us about the club until after we had sex with them. Looking back, they seduced us but it all worked out for the best,” said Marge.
“What was the motel like,” asked Stacy?
“Classic early wife swapping, everyone gathered together at the start. The men put their car keys in a hat. Each wife drew out a set of keys. Whomever keys you drew was your partner for the night,” said Marge.
“All night, the same man,” said Stacy.
“Yes, it was a gamble. Sometimes you’d be stuck with a man who had trouble getting it up or wanted you to do all the work. Men weren’t as into providing oral sex in those days. You got to suck his dirty dick but God forbid he put his mouth on you,” said Marge.
“There was nothing queer in those days. Guys didn’t touch other guys. Young men today don’t care if it’s a male or female as long as it’s wet,” said Ted.
“The male students Portia and I know at Harvard are bisexual. Of course, the girls are too,” said Stacy.
“Don’t be crude, Ted. You’re just jealous,” said Marge. “But sex was more limited. None of the women allowed anal intercourse,” said Marge.
“I enjoy anal sex. In many cases, I prefer it,” said Stacy slipping down in the chaise to take a position between Marge’s legs. “I’m ready to make love if you are.”
“Dog style, my favorite,” said Ted taking a position at Stacy’s rear.

***

“Are you awake,” asked Stacy? She and Portia were in her bed at their condo. Giacomo looked up, annoyed Stacy had disturbed him. They hadn’t gotten back from the Talbots until almost two in the morning
“Yes, want to talk,” asked Portia?
“I am some kind of sexual freak,” said Stacy.
“Shouldn’t that include both us? You didn’t do anything today I didn’t do.”
“I got off causing pain. That’s not a hallmark of stable and healthy person,” said Stacy pulling Portia into her arms.
“Me too, we’re both freaks,” said Portia snuggling against Stacy.
“Maybe we should go to the Student Health Center and request a psychiatric evaluation,” said Stacy.
“Only if you want the world to know we’re freaks. Their computer records have been hacked so often I don’t know why they bother to use logins and passwords.”
“You’re kidding,” said Stacy.
“Someone keeps posting the audio files recording both group and individual sessions from the Center’s Mental Health Department.”
“They can’t find and stop it,” said Stacy.
“It’s probably some MIT computer science student whose IQ is over two hundred. Who the hell is smart enough to stop him?”
“That’s awful,” said Stacy. “People are entitled to some privacy in their lives.”
“I agree. But there is a good chance that if you schedule a session with one of the brain doctors, the entire campus will get to listen to your account of yesterday’s happenings.”
“What did you come away with from our sojourn to Lexington,” asked Stacy?
“Suburbia is not the boring sexual desert I thought it was. I have been operating on the premise I should complete all sexual experimentation before finishing college. I saw a future in which job, husband, and children mandated a very limited sex life. I can now see that at least in the case of the Talbots, that is not true,” said Portia.
“Kendra, where does she fit under the bell shaped sex curve,” asked Stacy?
“I would say she is over at the edge, a data outlier. However, there are probably more Kendra’s out there than one would think. By the way, I bet Lloyd gives you a call. He was attracted to you and I kind of sensed you thought he was muy simpatico.”
“He may call but I am not going out with him. I wouldn’t do that to Kendra,” said Stacy.
“Most unmarried women would. He’s good looking, helps in the kitchen and a good fuck. They would overlook his need for black cock and a monthly whip-ass session. He’s also well off which would mean a lot to most women but not you since you are even better off.”
“I may be a kinky out of control sex freak but not a spouse stealing one,” said Stacy. “If he calls and he probably will I intend to politely decline his request.”
“As for us being sex freaks since we got off playing dominatrix today, I would like to point out something important you are overlooking,” said Portia.
“And that is,” asked Stacy?
“The persons we were torturing wanted us to torture them. It was part of their sexual fantasy. They loved what we did. They’ll recall it later when they masturbate. We did not kidnap an innocent couple to cause them pain. It was role-play. That makes for one hell of a difference,” said Portia.
“Not sure I understand what you’re saying,” said Stacy.
“Suppose we were employed as interrogators for some Latin American security police. Five days a week, we work on enemies of the regime. We beat them bloody, break a few bones, apply electricity to their sexual organs and fill their bowels with water,” said Portia.
“Fill their bowels with water, what does that do,” asked Stacy.
“A garden hose up your ass is exceedingly painful. My point is that what we did with the Talbots might make us sexual freaks but there are people who are sexual monsters. And that is not Portia and Stacy. Even the Talbots are worse freaks than us.”
“They are,” asked Stacy?
“Definitely, desiring pain is more unnatural than causing it. It’s much more normal to enjoy landing a cane across someone’s ass than to arrange for someone to do it to you. Kendra’s cunt was absolutely dripping pussy juice when I was whipping the shit out of her. Now that is truly not normal.”
“I see your point,” said Stacy. “What would I do without you?”
“The real problem in our lives is Lt. Mike Cabreeze. The Mike problem makes our tendency to climax while engaged in S&M with a pair of suburbanites a trivial concern. Mike is a danger to our very existence. If anything should ever go wrong, we both know too much for him to let us live.”
“So what do we do,” asked Stacy?
“I would suggest we kill him if I thought we could get away with it,” said Portia. “If he were dead, we could marry Monk and Les and live happily ever after.”
“I want to marry you,” said Stacy. “We could, you know.”
“I’m not ready to get married. I want to graduate and establish my career first. Besides I couldn’t afford a lawyer to meet with your lawyer to negotiate a decent pre-nuptial agreement.”
“So you wouldn’t marry me,” said Stacy pouting.
“I want children eventually,” said Portia.
“You could be inseminated,” said Stacy reaching between Portia’s legs to feel her rings. “There’s a turkey baster in the kitchen.”
“So I’d be the one who has a watermelon belly for nine months,” said Portia.
“We could adopt. Some friends of my parents adopted two precious little boys from China.”
“And waste the DNA of the beautiful Stacy Todd, no way,” said Portia.
“I have read they are researching the possibility of combining the DNA of same sex couples in a fertilized egg. We could have a child whose DNA belongs to both of us,” said Stacy.
“All right, we can get married once that’s a reality,” said Portia.
“You know there is one more thing that worries me about Mike Cabreeze,” said Stacy.
“Other than the likelihood he will eventually murder us,” said Portia.
“Yes, There’s another thing bothering me,” said Stacy.
“Which is,” asked Portia?
“I like being with Mike. No, the word ‘like’ is all wrong. It’s hard to explain. I had a great time today at the Talbots. And the charity weekend was unbelievable. But when I am out with the Posse, it’s as if I’m a different person. I feel so alive. I get off on just being with him. I know how dangerous it is. It’s insane.”
“I know why,” said Portia.
“Why?”
“Some rare women are warriors. You’re one. Mike Cabreeze for all his evil saw that in you. You’re a risk taker who loves danger. You’re also a natural leader.”
“You’re full of shit but I love you and want to have your babies,” said Stacy hugging Portia.


Chapter 46 Not So Chance Meeting

It was 9:30 on a Saturday night and Stacy was seated alone at the bar of an upscale lounge a short walk off campus. She was deeply lost in thought as she sipped her second mojitos.
Stacy and Portia had planned to spend the evening at the library studying; but Portia had to cancel. She was playing a last minute gig at a jazz club in downtown Boston. The band’s regular keyboard player had been in a car accident and the band manager begged Portia to substitute.
Stacy studied for an hour but felt restless and couldn’t concentrate. She went back to the dorm, put on a skirt, blouse, and heels and walked over to the Bar Noir. She made a last minute decision to skip the underwear. She found it titillating to feel the night breeze blowing across her bare sex as she walked through busy Harvard Square. She sensed the way men and some women were looking at her and she chided herself for being pleased with their attention.
“You’ve become serious eye candy,” observed Portia when Stacy had recently complained about how men constructing a new campus building had yelled obscene suggestions at her.
“Hey baby, want some of this,” said Stacy grabbing her crotch as she spoke doing her best to imitate one of the men who accosted her.
“I bet you were swinging your hips as you walked and in those tight jeans, you’d have the Pope interested. Face it, Stacy, you’ve blossomed into the hottest thing on campus.”
“You’re exaggerating. Mike makes me dress in a way that attracts attention,” said Stacy.
“True, at least in the beginning but you developed a sense of fashion and a style all your own. I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen when we first moved into the dorm together. But it was hidden in sweatshirts and baggy jeans. You were the typical I-don’t-give-shit-how-I-look Harvard coed. Now you look and act like a femme fatale,” said Portia. “You’ve undergone a transformation. The caterpillar has become a beautiful butterfly.”
“Bullshit, butterfly, a femme fatale, is that who I am? You just said I was eye candy,” said Stacy laughing?
“Yes, you are a femme fatale and all femme fatale’s are eye candy but very few women who are eye candy are femme fatales,” said Portia adopting an authoritative tone.
“You’re full of shit. I mean that in a nice way,” said Stacy leaning over to kiss Portia’s cheek. “What exactly is a femme fatale, anyway?”
“A woman so beautiful and alluring she can enslave men without them realizing it. The historical femme fatale is sexually insatiable. She is the anti-heroine. In male dominated literature, she is the temptress who wrecks the lives of honest but weak men. Like Circe, she can be only saved by the love of a true hero like Odysseus. Women writers treat her as driven to her condition by the perfidiousness of the male sex, a la Madame Bovary.”
“Circe, I remember reading about her. She could turn men into swine with her magic wand. Totally unnecessary today, men are already swine.”
“Mike Cabreeze is not representative of all men. Maybe he is your Odysseus.”
“Mike’s Italian, not Greek,” said Stacy. “So, femme fatale, good thing or bad?”
“It can be a good thing, depends on you,” said Portia.
“Sort of like Superwoman, I must use my powers as a force for good,” said Stacy. “My life as a comic book heroine.”
“Exactly,” said Portia.
Have I lost control of my life and who I am wondered Stacy as she took a sip of her drink. She had just found herself wishing it was Friday and she was with Mike and the Posse. I must have serious emotional and mental problems wanting to be with a man who slaps me and degrades me at every opportunity.
Maybe I should go into therapy. Find myself a psychiatrist to listen to my problems. Quit burdening Portia with them. No, I’m just restless and bored. The semester’s barely started and I have a ton of outside reading. Between studies, getting ready for the Olympics, and being the whore and drug runner of a corrupt policeman, I’m headed for a busy junior year. One good thing is that Mike has been decent to me lately. Or from my crazy perspective is that a good thing?
Her recent dates with Mike had not been either painful or scary. She hadn’t been slapped or threatened even though when she pushed back. She’d noticed a softening in his attitude and she was finding that unsettling.
The Posse had been on a hiatus from its normal violent nature. No one as far as she knew had been murdered. She’d found some sense of shared sisterhood with Adriana, Wynona, and the others. They’d learned to see some dark humor in their situation referring to themselves as the Posse’s Pussy. Last night, the sex had been abundant and hot. Stacy thought about what Mike had said when he was fucking her dog style while she was sucking Zack’s penis.
“No one gets as much out of cock as Stacy. There’s not a cunt in the Commonwealth who enjoys having a dick in her as much as our Princess.”
I do like sex. Perhaps I like it more than is healthy. Maybe like Portia said, I have a yearning for danger and excitement plus sex. I’m certainly had enough of that recently thought Stacy.
I survived my first visit to AAA Auto Body. Looking back, she was pleased with how she handled herself. She’d played it cool showing those thugs she could take as many cocks as they put inside her. When Mike asked how it went, she replied, “Fine, no problems”. That caused him to look at her strange but he didn’t mention the gang rape and neither did she.
It was how I acted on the second visit to the chop shop that bothers me. Why did I do that? After her meeting with Mr. Serrentino, Sallie had taken her back to the car and told her she could go.
“Cabreeze said you don’t have to thank the guys for watching your car this time,” said Sallie. “Maybe he’s getting sweet on you.”
“If it’s all right with you, I’ll thank them anyway,” said Stacy grabbing the thin grease stained mattress and tossing it on the floor.
“Suit yourself, slut,” said Sallie turning away abruptly.
The mechanics stopped work to watch her remove her cream color cashmere sweater then step out of her matching skirt. Stacy hadn’t worn any underwear except for a pair of stay up hose.
“Venga aqui, Geraldo,” said Stacy gesturing for him to approach as she lay down on the mattress and spread her legs.
Stacy started to masturbate as the handsome Latino unzipped his coveralls.
Two hours later, Stacy had driven into the afternoon traffic with semen seeping out of her pussy and asshole. Dried male fluids covered her face and hair. She purposely hadn’t cleaned up. She’d masturbated on the drive back to Boston recalling how it felt to be on the filthy mattress surrounded by horny Puerto Ricans.
Portia’s reaction to her account of what happened was surprisingly relaxed.
“So you were horny and wanted a good fucking. We all do at times. It’s only natural. You picked a good group for it. Puerto Ricans only come in horny and they love a gangbang. It’s a form of Latino male bonding. Sharing a pussy is like sharing a smoke,” said Portia’s comment when Stacy told her about playing engine for the San Juan Express.
I’m out of control sexually thought Stacy. I’m thinking with my cunt. I need to refocus on my schoolwork and the Olympics. Still I did have a good time last night.
She’d danced with the girls until the band quit playing. They had been at the Surf Side and a quartet played Latin dance music all evening. Stacy loved the salsa and the meringue but it was the tango she did with Adriana that got everybody in the mood to return to the apartment and get naked.
When the band took a break, Adriana, Wynona and she had engaged in some very hot lesbian sex in the Ladies Room. Mike would have been pissed if he had caught her with her face buried in Wynona’s pussy.
“Act like a lady when you’re in public, especially with me,” said Mike after he caught her sitting on the commode with Wynona’s head between her legs.
“We were just having some girl fun,” said Wynona looking up at Mike from her kneeling position.
“When you’re out with the Posse, don’t act like a street whore,” said Mike lifting Wynona by her hair. Wynona made no attempt to block the bitch slap that snapped her head to one side leaving a tiny trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. The Posse girls quickly learned resistance led to even worse punishment. They acknowledged a grudging respect for a woman who could keep her hands by her side while she was being slapped or lifted by her nipples.
“Since you two are acting like cunts, I’ll treat you like one. Blow me,” said Mike taking Stacy’s seat on the commode.
Stacy had quickly knelt down and unzipped Mike’s trousers carefully reaching inside his boxers to extract his penis. As she windshield wiped her tongue over the head, Wynona, a red handprint visible on the side of her face, joined her, lifting Mike’s testicles to lick the underside of his scrotum.
The door to the stall was open. Female patrons of the restroom nervously glanced at the two females noisily sucking cock then quickly exited.
“You like to watch, sweetheart,” asked Mike when a young girl lingered at the stall door?
“Sometimes,” said the girl.
“What’s your name, sweetheart,” asked Mike.
“Danielle.”
“That’s a pretty name. You give a good blowjob, Danielle,” asked Mike flirting with the girl?
“I guess. I haven’t done it a lot.”
“Step closer.”
“Why,” asked Danielle showing caution?
“To learn. Pick up some tips. Stacy and Wynona are terrific cocksuckers. They know everything there is to know about sucking dick.”
Stacy sensed the girl had moved into the stall and was peering over her shoulder.
“Well, what do you think,” asked Mike?
“About what?”
“Don’t be a little cunt, Danielle. You know what.”
“They’re great. They really know how to do it,” said Danielle.
“Want to join them? They’ll share,” said Mike.
“I better get back to my parents,” said Danielle leaving quickly.
Later, on the dance floor, Danielle had started dancing with Stacy.
“My cell,” said Danielle slipping a scrap of paper into Stacy’s hand containing her telephone number. Stacy threw the number away when she got home.
Later at the Posse’s Cambridge apartment, the action had become intense. Stacy had thrown herself into piles of naked bodies eagerly performing acts that pre Mike Cabreeze would have disgusted her.
And how should I process what happened this week when Portia and I hooked up with Kendra and Lloyd wondered Stacy.
I had no idea dominating another couple would be so erotic thought Stacy as she took another sip of her cocktail. I’ve always been the one being dominated. What Faye did turned me on. And I got off when Vera Russo spanked my bottom. Admittedly I was turned on when her husband and I spanked her butt. And the paintball rape at the golf outing was a real mind trip. Until we hooked up with Kendra and Lloyd, I considered myself submissive. But Lloyd said that the really good dominants started out as submissives.
I enjoyed the party afterwards. Talking and having sex with couples who have been married for decades was interesting. Suburbia, at least at the Talbot home is not the sexual desert I imagined.
“Another mojitos,” asked the bartender interrupting Stacy’s thoughts. After he delivered her drink she politely discouraged him from staying so she could think more about her situation.
Maybe I am hooked on the excitement and the sex wondered Stacy as she idly stirred her drink. Looking back, my pre-Mike existence seems pretty tame.
Portia’s right. Being with Mike has changed me realized Stacy as she checked her appearance in the mirror behind the bar. I used to care less how I looked. Now I spend more time primping than a high school cheerleader. Appearance has become important to me. I like the way men and women look at me when I dress up.
She’d picked the Bar Noir because it was the kind of place students did not frequent. A martini was eleven dollars. She didn’t want to run into anybody from Harvard. Bar Noir was located in a four star hotel catering to wealthy alums and parents visiting campus. Stacy felt she needed time to think and it was a quiet sophisticated establishment with a decent jazz pianist.
The lounge was not crowded when Stacy took a seat at the bar crossing her legs allowing her skirt to ride up. My attitude has certainly changed realized Stacy noting she failed to adjust her skirt. My mother drummed into my head from the time I was two that physical beauty in a woman is not important and the idea of using your looks to attract a man was repugnant. Worst of all was using sex as a lure. When a man looked at a woman as a sexual object, he was demonstrating his own lack of proper values. Intelligence and character were what really counted according to Stacy’s Mom.
But Mike Cabreeze did not choose me because of what was inside my head. He wanted the whole package. And when I think about it, he must have wanted me pretty bad to go to all the trouble of stalking me then having me arrested for shoplifting. Faye said Mike told her I was different. Did he see something in me that I don’t or won’t? Or did he just figure that I was trainable? Someone who would fuck his brains out if he provided the right incentives like not being known as a porn star or spending the rest of my life in prison for dealing drugs.
“Hello, Ms. Todd,” said a man sitting down beside her and interrupting her thoughts.
“I’m sorry. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” said Stacy not recognizing the tall man with the aristocratic features. Somehow though, he looked familiar but Stacy could not place him.
“Charles Darnel,” said the man extending his hand.
“I’m awful with names. I know you from where?” said Stacy shaking the outstretched hand.
Charles leaned closer and spoke is a whisper. “Mistress Charlize, I bought you for five hundred dollars. You spent one hundred and twenty delightful minutes with me and my slave Simone.”
Stacy’s mind instantly flashed back to the New England Ladies of Leather and the Auto-De-Fe. He was Mistress Charlize now elegantly dressed in an expensive bespoke suit cut in the English style. The wrist of the carefully manicured hand resting on the bar wore a jeweled Ebel watch similar to one her father owned. Stacy guessed the man’s age as late forties to early fifties. She also noticed he was wearing a wedding ring.
When Stacy recalled the pain she suffered at Mistress Charlize and his slave Simone’s hands she almost lost it. She had to resist the urge to slam her fist into his face.
“I remember now,” said Stacy. “Where’s your leather mini-dress?”
“In my closet, dressing as the opposite gender is an old and honorable tradition of the British aristocracy especially those in the military. My great great grandfather Colonel Adrian Darnel who fell at Balaclava commissioned his portrait dressed as Lady Ariadne Darnel attending his regiment’s chiffon ball in drag. It still hangs in the manor house.”
“Did you and your slave enjoy causing me pain?” asked Stacy recalling how Simone had tied her across the punishment bench and blistered her bare bottom with a leather paddle. Spanked her so hard, a sobbing Stacy had pleaded for her to stop, offering any kind of sex to end the pain. Of course, that had been only a prelude. The electricity came next. It had left Stacy broken, confused and barely able to function. Her joints and muscles had ached for days. Her screams had left her throat so sore it hurt to talk. The only upside had been meeting Doctor Myers and his subsequent visit with Doctor Brewer. Portia and Stacy had enjoyed hours of non-stop sex with the two handsome and exceedingly well-endowed residents
“I recall having an erection so I must have enjoyed it,” said Charles. “Of course, the electrical torture made it uniquely pleasurable for me and painful for you.”
“There is the matter of the very painful rape you inflicted on me,” said Stacy. “It was three days before I could get out of bed without painkillers.”
“Fortunately, Portia was able to call upon the services of that talented young Doctor Myers. I understand you two paid him and his fellow resident handsomely for their services.”
“I enjoyed fucking them much more than I did you. But you probably know that already since you seem to know everything,” said Stacy.
“Yes, given your recent active sexual history the Auto-De-Fe may be the one instance you did not enjoy sexual intercourse. Penetration of a vagina or anal cavity subjected to electrical torture is exceedingly painful. The Gestapo always made it a point to rape female prisoners immediately following electrical torture of the vagina,” said Charles. “Some of their female Marquis went mad from having a hard German cock inside their electrified French cunts. I have some vintage footage from the Gestapo film archive that illustrates how it felt. Remind me to show it to you sometime.”
“So it was all part of a plan,” said Stacy recalling her surprise when Mistress Charlize lifted her skirt to unsnap the leather panty crotch and the largest and ugliest cock she had ever seem came into her pain-clouded view. She recalled how it felt when the hideous instrument forced its way past her anus and reached deep inside her, stretching her tortured bowels to the bursting point.
“Of course, planned right down to the last detail. Lack of spontaneity is one of my character defects. What happened to you at the Auto-De-Fe had been worked out days in advance,” said Charles. “However, It did not produce the anticipated results.”
“You thought I would like what you did to me,” asked Stacy?
“No, I knew it would be exceedingly painful. I anticipated the electrical torture would drive you insane or at the least, leave you in a weakened state it would take money to rehabilitate. However, you not only retained your sanity but also were back on your feet the next day. Quite remarkably, you proved amazing resilient to an experience that I thought would leave you a doddering idiot.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about. Nor do I care. That was not my scene. I was repaying a favor,” said Stacy.
“Not mine either but interesting nonetheless. Bartender, dry gin martini for me and what ever Stacia is having,” said Charles.
“No, nothing for me, I was about to leave. I have to get back and study,” said Stacy.
“One drink, please,” said Charles putting his hand on Stacy’s.
“I really have to go,” said Stacy starting to get up.
“If it was Mike Cabreeze asking, you’d stay.”
“I don’t know any Mike Cabreeze,” said Stacy but she sat back down anyway.
“Here, maybe this will refresh your memory,” said Charles reached in his suit pocket. He removed a white envelope and handed it to Stacy.
“Shit,” said Stacy looking at a print of her standing in the apartment doorway reaching out her arms to Mike. There was a second shot of her in his arms kissing as the door was swinging closed. One of his hands was clutching her buttock.
“So, I’m having an affair with a married man,” said Stacy. “Do you want me to wear a scarlet letter?”
“There is no law remaining in the statutes against being an adulterous whore,” said Charles. “But there are federal criminal statues against transporting sizeable shipment of heroin, cocaine and Ecstasy across state lines. I suggest you keep looking at the portfolio.”
“Shit,” said Stacy looking at a picture of her parked at the AAA Auto Body entrance. A photo of her at the airport meeting with Esther Wolfenson followed.
“Several hundred kilos and ten thousand Ecstasy tablets will get you several hundred years,” said Charles. “You are what we in the business call damaged goods, Ms. Todd.”
“If you know so much about me, then you know that Mike had me falsely arrested for shoplifting. He drugged me and made me star in a hardcore film he threatened to send to my family and their friends. And to seal the deal and make it iron clad, he tricked me into placing my prints on a kilogram of heroin. I’m an unwilling participant. He’s threatened to harm my family and my roommate and lover Portia. The bottom line is I had no choice but to do what Mike Cabreeze says. When he wants to fuck I fuck and when he sends me to pick up drugs I go,” said Stacy.
“True but the law is unforgiving about crime even when you feel you have no choice. Remember Patty Hearst?”
“Vaguely,” said Stacy. “She’s the heiress to the Hearst fortune who was kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped by a terrorist group and forced to rob a bank. She served seven years in the penitentiary. Of course, the penalty for drug smuggling is absolutely draconian, much worse than that. You’re pre-law. You should know these things,” said Charles.
“Let’s stop dancing. What do you want?” asked Stacy.
“Your cooperation in eventually bringing Mike Cabreeze and his organization to justice,” said Charles.
“And exactly why would you want that?”
“I am the head of a small organization dedicated to winning the war on drugs,” said Charles.
“DEA or FBI,” asked Stacy before adding? “But they’re not small.”
“Let’s leave that as an unknown for the moment,” said Charles.
“A cross-dressing Narc who posed as a dominatrix in order to enjoy torturing and fucking me. As I recall you blew your load in my ass after a few strokes. Shouldn’t I think that a trifle strange,” asked Stacy?
“I could lie and say I’m under deep cover, Ms. Todd,” said Charles smiling. “But the truth is cross dressing is a major part of my lifestyle and it normally involves sex, sometimes of a brutal nature. What Simone and I did to you was very erotic. So it was no wonder, I quickly filled your bowels with the Darnel sperm.”
“You’re some kind of pervert. Where’s your slave tonight?”
“Simone, she’s around somewhere, possibly on assignment,” said Charlize.
“I’m supposed to believe that rug munching sadist is a member of the DEA,” asked Stacy?
“Don’t jump to premature conclusions. Please look at the next picture,” said Charles.
“Never saw her before in my life,” said Stacy staring at the image of an attractive blonde girl who looked something like Stacy.
“And you never will because Robin Quinn is very dead as the next picture will show,” said Charles.
“That’s horrible,” said Stacy looking at the picture of the same female lying naked on a table in the morgue covered with bruises and cuts. The body in the morgue was barely recognizable. “What happened to her?”
“Very bad things, Lt. Mike Cabreeze and one or more of his posse killed her very slowly. She failed to please him or he got tired of her. Or maybe like you, she knew too much.”
“What has she got to do with me? Who was she anyway?”
“You replaced her. She was a math whiz, like Portia she had genius level IQ. Robin was an MIT student with a future in mathematical research until Lt. Cabreeze arrested her with several ounces of heroin in her possession. She became Mike’s girl until he found reason to get rid of her. He may have killed her merely to clear the way for your arrival on the scene. Or perhaps she tried to contact the authorities about the Posse. But Robin is not your equal. I think Mike has fallen in love with you and that makes you valuable to us and dangerous to him.”
“Mike’s a psychotic criminal and he does not love me. If he cared about me, do you think he would have asked Mr. Serrentino to have me gang raped. He makes me do awful things just to prove he’s in charge.”
“I understand you repeated the gang rape on your own volition. You are a force of nature, Stacia Todd.”
“My relationship with Mike has caused me to lose perspective. I came here tonight to try to regain my self-control. I don’t believe a man who enjoys slapping me, humiliating me, and ordering me to be gang raped is in love with me.”
“We always hurt the ones we love,” said Charles. “Lt. Cabreeze is a disciplinarian who believes in keeping everybody in line especially females. For good reasons, you intrigue him, and me.”
“Enough fucking bullshit, what do you want?”
“Your participation in my organization, in return I am offering an opportunity to save your and Portia’s life,” said Charles.
“How would I do that? Testify against him then spend the rest of my life in a witness protection program living in Council Bluffs, Iowa waiting for the day I answer the front door and get my brains blown out. No thank you. I prefer to take my chances,” said Stacy.
“Witness protection program, you’ve been watching too much television. Justice can be served in other ways,” said Charles. “We see Mike Cabreeze as a means not an end. With you on our side, we hope to move up the ladder to the top rung before we take action.”
“You’re not making any sense. Mike is the top rung of my ladder. I have to go. I’ll tell Portia about your offer. If she’s interested, we’ll give you a call but don’t hold your breath,” said Stacy getting up. “Thanks for the drink. Good night.”

***

Stacy was walking briskly back to the condo. Christ, what was that about wondered Stacy as she passed through still busy Harvard Square. Was Charles Darnel for real or just another stalker with a telephoto lens and a yin to jump my bones? He didn’t look tough enough to take on Mike or for that matter any of the Posse. I hope Portia’s home so I can tell her about Charlie’s offer.
As Stacy reached the darkened street one block from her condo, she slipped her hand into her purse taking a grip on the small canister of pepper spray. Technically, pepper spray was illegal in Massachusetts but the police usually looked the other way when the carrier was a coed concerned for her safety. Stacy recalled that a month ago, a woman was raped and badly beaten in that same block.
Out of fear, the woman had gone along with the rapist when he promised not to hurt her if she didn’t struggle. She’d sucked his cock then guided it into her vagina hoping to get it over with quickly. But the reward for her acquiescence had been a brutal beating that left several broken bones.
Stacy recalled with some satisfaction, how she and the others had punished the rapists outside Mariposa’s. Stacy smiled as she recalled a recent email from the Angel detailing her now very active sex life.
“Reminds me of you,” said Portia reading the email. “From virgin to super slut in no time.”
“Damn,” cried Stacy. Just as she was about to reach the well-lighted condo entrance, she felt a sharp sting and impact in the back of her thigh. Looking down, she saw a small metal cylinder clinging to her leg. She began to run but before she had taken three steps, she felt herself slowing down. Just as she was about to fall, powerful arms swept her up. Someone very tall and strong, clad in back was carrying her. She heard the sound of a car door being opened then nothing.
“Good work, Reynolds,” said Sir Charles as he placed the tranquilized Stacy on the back seat of the stretch limousine.
“Thank you, Sir Charles,” said Reynolds before closing the door then quickly entering the passenger side taking a seat beside the driver, Simone.
“Miss Todd, I see you came out missing your under garments. How déclassé,” said Sir Charles his hand resting on Stacy’s bare sex his index finger parting her labia. “You must have been hoping to get lucky this evening. Well, we can certainly make that happen. Can’t we, Simone?”
“Of course, Sir Charles, Shall I take a leisurely route back,” asked Simone putting the limousine in gear?
“Yes, simulated necrophilia with a beautiful corpse would be most satisfying,” said Sir Charles repositioning Stacy on the seat to spread her legs. He unzipped his trousers and took out his cock. He extended and began a slow stroking as he opened a small compartment to retrieve a tube of lotion. He applied a thin line of the white substance along the long shaft then carefully massaged it into the scarred, irregular flesh.
Relaxing back onto the seat, he stroked his member as he stared at Stacy’s exposed sex. “Her sex is quite exquisite. There is too little appreciation expressed for the perfectly proportioned pudenda.”
“She’s a magnificent animal,” agreed Simone. “Making her scream at the Auto-De-Fe was a sublime experience. I am looking forward to what comes next.”
“Would you like some privacy, Sir Charles,” asked Reynolds reaching toward the button that raised the partition between the driver’s seat and the rear of the vehicle?
“No, if you care to watch, you may,” said Sir Charles stroking his enormous cock to erection. “My grandfather maintained the pleasure of sexual intercourse was multiplied by the number of onlookers. Once a year, he would invite residents of the village and surrounding estates to dine in the Great Hall. After they had supped, he would make Grandmother stand on a table in the center of the room. Next, he would rip her clothes off and savagely assault her while they watched. Of course, many of the audience lost control and proceeded to imitate Grandfather with the nearest available female. It was an event much anticipated by the local gentry.”
“I wish I could have known your grandfather,” said Reynolds watching as Sir Charles lifted Stacy’s blouse to expose her chest.
“A gentleman much ahead of his time and vilely persecuted for it, truly magnificent, the bosom of a goddess,” said Sir Charles passing his hands over her breasts.
“She has the most gorgeous tits I’ve ever seen,” said Simone recalling Stacy’s nude body from the Auto-De-Fe.
“And a sex that feels like velvet,” said Sir Charles as he inserted his cockhead and pushed forward.
A sigh followed by a loud moan escaped her lips as Sir Charles prodigious and hideous member entered her then descended to her womb.
“Hear that, a true whore’s moan. Even in her tranquilized state, she responds to penetration. Her capacity to experience pleasure from the male penis is not limited to being conscious,” said Sir Charles beginning to move back and forth. Stacy groaned and grunted in response to both insertion and withdrawal.
“Remarkable,” said Reynolds watching as an unconscious Stacy wrapped her legs around Sir Charles waist pulling him into her each time she thrust forward.
“I can’t wait until we get our chance with her,” whispered Simone to Reynolds but Sit Charles overheard.
“In due time,” said Sir Charles increasing his pace in response to the sensations being fed back from his cock.
It wasn’t until the limousine reached the garage and Simone enabled the power door that Sir Charles allowed his orgasm to take place. His surgically enlarged testicles unleashed a proportionate volume of semen filling Stacy’s womb with the life forming fluid.
As Simone drove into the garage, Sir Charles gently cleaned his cock while admiring the drops of semen oozing out of Stacy’s vagina to form a puddle on the leather seat. The drops appeared in a regular pattern indicating Stacy’s vagina was undergoing the muscular contractions of an orgasm. “Marvelous,” whispered Sir Charles.


Chapter 47 State-of-the-Art Torture

“A moment, Simone, then we’ll start,” said Sir Charles Darnel sitting down in a handcrafted Queen Anne chair. It was the only furnishing in the room that wasn’t decidedly modern. Almost immediately a servant appeared carrying a bottle of wine.
“Chateau Lafitte Rothschild, 68, Sir,“ said the servant presenting the bottle for Sir Charles inspection.
“How much of the sixty-eight is left, Edwards,” asked Sir Charles?
“Six bottles, Sir.”
“Pity,” said Sir Charles waving his hand to indicate Edwards should open the wine. Edwards took a candle off a nearby cart and lit it. After carefully removing the cork and positioning the candle to backlight the bottle, he skillfully decanted the wine knowing even the smallest taste of sediment would displease Sir Charles. Edwards placed a crystal burgundy stem and the matching decanter on a small table by the Queen Anne.
“Pour in thirty minutes,” said Sir Charles glancing at his watch. “I know it should breathe for an hour but tonight we will make an exception. Bring me some fruit and the Stilton, Lady Darnel sent.”
Edwards disappeared into the dark hurrying upstairs to the penthouse kitchen to fulfill his master’s request. In addition to Sir Charles there were five other people in the room. Simone and her two assistants, Alex and Francis, were busily checking equipment that monitored the life signs of Stacy and Portia. Both girls were naked and under severe restraint making the slightest movement all but impossible. Their clothes were neatly hung by the entranceway. Although the restraints held them in an upright position, their closed eyes and slumped form indicated they were unconscious.
They were on the seventh floor of Boston’s Cartwright Building, an unimposing eight story office building located on the periphery of the city’s financial district. The title to the property was registered to Chalmette Properties, Inc, whose existence consisted of a mailbox located at the main post office in Picayune Parish, Louisiana. Chalmette Properties was in turn a wholly owned subsidiary of Highsmith Ltd of Hamilton, Bermuda, another legal entity existing only on paper. Given months to search through almost impossible to acquire confidential records of several banks and trusts, a determined and expert researcher might ultimately discover the true owner was Sir Charles.
The building’s first four floors provided office suites to a variety of legal and accounting firms at market rates. The fifth floor contained the city’s most elegant private club for gentlemen and ladies who found pleasure in dressing as the opposing gender. Membership in Club Napoleon was expensive and limited. Joining required an intensive vetting procedure and sponsorship by two existing members. In spite of the impediments and expense, there was a considerable waiting list.
The sixth floor contained both a retail outlet and a WEB based mail order business catering to the transvestite community; however most of the floor space was dedicated to a health and beauty spa focused on those who wished to appear as the other gender.
The spa offered a far reaching and in many ways unique list of services. Laser technology for the removal of body hair was among the spa’s most popular services. Members could attend training sessions to master the intricacies of applying makeup or styling a wig. Instructors taught members how to walk and act like a lady emphasizing those actions that differentiated the sexes. There were professionally conducted group theraphy sessions for members experiencing difficulty resolving gender conflicts.
Monthly meetings by family of club members were well attended. Problems peculiar to being supportive were discussed. A sample topic might be, ‘How To Tell Him He’s Too Big For Polka Dots’.
Only members of Club Napoleon could take advantage of the spa. Club members also received a discount on their retail and WEB purchases.
Identical Club Napoleon and associated spas were also found in several other major American cities in addition to London, Paris, and Berlin.
The seventh floor contained the North American operational center of Sir Charles’ anti-crime organization. Stacy and Portia were in the recently renovated Interrogation Room A.
“Now, Simone,” said Sir Charles relaxing back into the chair as Simone carefully filled a syringe with a drug that would counteract the tranquilizer used to subdue Stacy and Portia.
She is a superb physical specimen thought Sir Charles admiring Stacy’s nude form. She demonstrated amazing resistance to pain at the Auto-De-Fe. Any other woman would have been reduced to a babbling idiot by the amount of electricity we applied. Her superior intelligence and motor skills, after all she is an Olympian, makes her an excellent candidate to join my organization as a field operative. Her friend, Portia, although less physically gifted, demonstrates genius intelligence. Portia could prove a valuable asset on the analytical side. We need younger blood in the organization.
Simone swabbed Stacy’s arm with alcohol then injected the stimulant. The effect was almost immediate. Stacy snapped awake to what she perceived as nightmarish circumstances.
Directly opposite her, less than ten feet away was a naked Portia held erect in a shiny metal apparatus that loosely resembled a cross. Portia’s arms were outstretched crucifixion style. Bands of an unknown material were not only looped around Portia’s wrists and upper arms but each individual finger was tightly banded and splayed to a metal form mimicking the human hand. Other similar bands around Portia’s forehead and under her breasts held her upper body firmly in place. A wider waistband secured her middle. A more complicated network of smaller bands held her feet and ankles
Stacy’s quick glance at Portia and the position of her own body convinced her she was restrained identically to her roommate. Stacy’s peripheral vision detected Sir Charles seated nearby. Opposite him, were Simone and two others dressed in white lab coats. The overhead lighting was sharply focused in a circle. Beyond the circle of light was darkness.
“Portia, are you all right,” asked Stacy? Are you all right, Portia,” repeated Stacy?
“Of course, Portia’s all right,” said Sir Charles. “Alex, read Portia’s life signs.”
“BP is one twenty over seventy five. Pulse is normal,” said Alex.
“If you hurt her, I will return here and kill you and these assholes with you,” said Stacy.
“We are going to hurt both of you very badly but we won’t harm you. It’s a small distinction albeit an important one. Simone, arouse Portia,” said Sir Charles.
“Where are we,” asked Stacy watching Simone prepare another syringe?
“Interrogation Room A, the most technologically advanced private facility of its kind in the world. Only the interrogation rooms of the CIA are its equal,” said Sir Charles. “The facility only became operational last month. You are the third pair to experience its pleasures.”
“Stacy, what the fuck is going on,” asked Portia coming quickly awake after her injection.
“Are you all right,” asked Stacy?
“Fuck no, some bastard shot me with a tranquilizer dart when I left the club. It hurt like hell. Where the fuck are we? Who are these people?”
“Portia, I am Sir Charles Darnel and those are my associates, Simone, Alex, and Francis,” interrupted Sir Charles.
“So who the fuck are you? Are you aware kidnapping is against the law in this country?” asked Portia noting Sir Charles’ accent.
“I find repeated use of the F-word tiresome. Francis, dissuade Portia from its further use.”
Francis went to a nearby rack containing several different types of whips. He selected a multi-strand flogger. He tested it by bringing his arm around then snapping his wrist. The strands made a loud crack as they lashed at the empty air. Francis took up a position in front of Portia.
“Repeat after me. I will not use the F-word,” said Francis in a calm quiet voice.
“Fuck you, shit head,” said Portia defiantly.
Francis’s muscular arm brought the flogger around in a wide swing landing the ends hard on the side and front of Portia’s left breast. The force of the impact was visible to Stacy. Portia’s breast snapped toward the center. The impact was so great, her nipple ring flattened against her breast.
As Portia opened her mouth to scream, Francis swapped the flogger to his opposite hand then landed an identical blow to the right breast. The second blow caught Portia in mid scream changing the sound to more of one choking than giving full voice to the agonizing pain.
“Francis is ambidextrous,” said Sir Charles. The best with a whip in the organization.”
“I’m going to kill you, Sir Charles. I’ll blow that ugly fake dick of yours off,” screamed Stacy.
“Alex, see if you can discourage Stacia from the use of expletives. Educated speakers should be aware overuse has rendered them meaningless,” said Sir Charles.
Seconds later, a similar flogger turned Stacy’s right breast into a nexus of intense agony. The left quickly followed its sister. Alex halted allowing Stacy to vent her pain and misery to the soundproof walls.
“God damn you, that hurt,” cried Stacy reacting to the fiery pain.
“Repeat after me, I will not use the F-word,” reiterated Francis once Portia’s screams had turned to sobs.
“Screw you, asshole,” said Portia between sobs.
Two more blows gave Portia cause to exercise her voice at its most shrill.
“Continue until I say otherwise,” said Sir Charles. “Their behavior is most unladylike and they need to be taught a lesson.”
For the next five minutes, Alex and Francis applied the floggers repeatedly until Sir Charles signaled for them to halt. Stacy’s chest was ablaze. Her throat was raw from screaming. Portia’s breasts, not fully recovered from Lou’s drunken extrication of her nipple rings, were bleeding badly. Portia knew further resistance was pointless. Drops of blood were falling on her bare feet.
“Portia, do you have anything to say,” asked Sir Charles?
“I will not use the F-word,” said a beaten Portia wondering if the pain would ever fully go away.
“And you, Stacia?”
“I will clean up my language, not use expletives. Whatever you say? Just no more,” said Stacy.
“Good, we can move on,” said Sir Charles.
“What do you want, Sir Charles? You know about Mike Cabreeze and me. You know he’s forced me to become part of his drug operation. Portia is innocent. She shouldn’t even be here,” said Stacy.
“I’ve decided to forcibly recruit you for membership in my anti-drug operation. The FBI and the DEA have a college recruitment program. I’ve decided to start one.”
“You’re insane. That doesn’t make any sense. We haven’t even graduated,” said Portia wondering if Sir Charles was truly mad. She had no idea who Sir Charles was or how he was connected to Stacy. She realized Stacy knew but Portia was left to play a game of mental catching up.
“No, but you will in due time. Until that happens, you can intern,” said Sir Charles.
“Please explain what you want from us,” said Stacy fighting back the urge to scream at Sir Charles that he was a crazy motherfucker.
“Do you know who was the first president to declare a war of drugs,” asked Sir Charles?
“Theodore Roosevelt,” said Portia. “Do I win something for knowing that?”
“I could have Francis give your breasts ten more lashes for being disrespectful,” said Sir Charles.
“No, sorry,” said Portia not anxious to feel the flogger’s touch on her bleeding breasts.
“And since that time, who has won the war on drugs?” asked Sir Charles?
“The drug dealers,” said Stacy. “The war is lost. Drugs are more plentiful and cheaper than ever.”
“Exactly, now why have they won,” asked Sir Charles?
“People demand drugs. Currently, white affluent Americans are in love with prescription drugs. Vicodin, Percoset and similar drugs are manufactured by the billions and the big pharmaceutical companies make huge profits. I smoke marijuana and occasionally take Ecstasy. So do most college students,” said Portia.
“I take the view marijuana should be legalized. However, I created my organization to join in the war on drugs on the side of the angels. We concentrate strictly on the higher ups, the major dealers and those public officials and police who assist them,” said Sir Charles.
“Like Mike Cabreeze,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, Lt. Michael Cabreeze is a prime example of whom we target,” said Sir Charles.
“That sounds like a very worthy endeavor, you own private DEA. But what has that got to do with Stacy and me. Stacy is Mike’s victim. She’s doing what she has to not what she wants to,” said Portia.
“My organization needs new talented members. After a careful assessment of your talents, I have decided to enlist your services. In the past, I have selected only those who have suffered the loss of a loved one to drugs. My wife, Lady Darnel, and I lost our only child ten years ago. Elizabeth died of a heroin overdose. Simone’s sister fell prey to a pimp who made her an addict. She was murdered by one of her customers. Both Alex and Francis suffered similar losses. Reynolds’ dear brother was murdered by an addict seeking to rob him for drug money.”
“But Stacy and I haven’t lost anyone,” said Portia.
“True but you are on the verge of losing your own lives. How long before Mike Cabreeze starts to worry about how much you know about The Posse. He is aware Stacy confides in her lesbian lover. In a matter of time, Mike Cabreeze will kill you both and he will do it a very nasty and brutal fashion.”
“Possibly you’re right but why should we join your organization? What’s its name? It does have one I assume,” said Stacy.
“Yes, you will become members of Club Josephine, the drug war affiliate of Club Napoleon,” said Sir Charles.
“So what exactly does Club Josephine do? Gather evidence and turn it over to the authorities for prosecution,” said Portia trying to decide if Sir Charles was eccentric or insane.
“We are a closed loop organization. The authorities are often the criminals. We take direct action,” said Sir Charles.
“You murder them yourselves,” said Stacy.
“Precisely, I’m afraid the old cliché applies. Club Josephine is judge, jury, and executioner.”
“I won’t have anything to do with that,” said Portia.
“Nor will I,” said Stacy.
“But you will before the cock crows. Simone and her helpers will see to that,” said Sir Charles.
“It’s time, Sir,” said Edwards arriving with a plate of cheese and fruit. He carefully poured Sir Charles a glass of wine.
“Thank you. Edwards. Simone, I’m feeling eclectic. We’ll combine French water torture with a ride on the Spanish donkey. Of course we perform a very high tech and hygienic version of these classical methods for encouraging cooperation or gaining information,” said Sir Charles.
“You are going to torture us into agreeing to become members. That’s irrational,” said Portia.
“But it works. You’ll see for yourself,” said Sir Charles. “Simone, they’re all yours. I am going to sit here and enjoy this excellent vintage.”
Seconds later, Alex’s fingers clamped Stacy’s nose shut. When she opened her mouth to breathe, Simone threaded a flexible rubber tube down her throat past her esophageal valve. Stacy fought back a wave of nausea when she felt the soft rubber reaching into her stomach.
Moments later, Portia also had a foot of hospital tubing hanging out of her mouth. The mouth tube was connected to the bottom of a clear plastic funnel set in a metal holder above Portia’s head. The same arrangement of tubing and funnel was applied to Stacy.
Stacy watched helplessly as Alex knelt between Portia’s spread legs. He reached between them extending a narrow wedge shaped rod retracted within the metal frame. He adjusted the rod to where the uneven point of the wedge rested firmly against the narrow band of flesh between Portia’s vagina and sphincter. Portia’s facial expression indicated she was hurting.
Alex walked to the control console. Using the system’s computer he launched an application, entered some data then mouse clicked a button. Stacy heard the hum of an electric motor. The wedge began to slowly move up and down in an undulating motion. Portia tried to scream but was prevented by the tube in her throat from making any substantial noise.
“The wedge between Portia’s legs is a modern version of the torture instrument commonly named the Spanish Donkey. It first appeared in the Dark Ages but was commonly use during the Spanish Inquisition. Torquemada, the Grand Inquisitor and a personal friend of the Borgia Pope, was a devotee of the Spanish Donkey. He would sit for hours in his palace’s dungeon listening to a heretic’s screams. He wrote that the cries of the heretic as the iron-sheathed apex slowly sunk into their flesh refreshed and cleaned his spirit giving him the strength to carry on God’s terrible work.
“Please don’t do this to us, Sir Charles,” said Stacy her voice barely intelligible due to the tubing in her throat.
“I’m afraid it’s a necessity,” said Sir Charles. “The pain you visited on the Talbots will be as nothing compared to what you are about to suffer. However it will cleanse you of the wrongs you have done in Mike Cabreeze’s name. In the eyes of my organization, you will be blameless. Where was I?”
“You were telling us about the Spanish Donkey,” said Simone as she placed one hand on Portia’s lower abdomen to better appreciate the pain the Donkey was creating. Her mentor taught the importance of the female sex as a means of measuring pain. In her years working for the secret police she had often placed her hand on the sweat drenched vulva of a prisoner then accurately forecast her breaking point. She slipped her fingers through Portia’s labial rings spreading her open allowing her forefinger to cover Portia’s clit. Simone sighed with satisfaction as her senses measured Portia’s agony.
While Simone was in favor of applying technology to torture and interrogation, there were moments when she missed the human interaction. Computer generated graphs and charts measuring pain levels did not satisfy her need for physical intimacy with her subjects.
“What’s left to say? Like most brilliant inventions, it’s remarkably simple. The mere threat of a ride was usually enough for a prospective witch to step forth and admit sexual congress with Satan and name every other female in her village as a fellow Satanist. For those brave enough to deny their worship of Lucifer, a brief ride was enough to bring the miscreant to full confession. It’s a passive form of torture that we have made dynamic by adding a wave motion,” said Sir Charles. “The motion adds to the pain by a factor of two point five according to our measurements.”
Stacy looked down to see Simone extending a similar metal bar. She felt the hard steel edge come in contact with the flesh separating her vagina and anus. She sensed the vibration of the motor. The wedge began to rise and fall digging into her flesh. Almost immediately the pain was unbearable.
A few seconds later, Simone stepped up on a stool to pour a beaker of water into the funnel. Almost instantly, Stacy felt the water flood into her stomach. Francis was busily pouring water in Portia’s funnel. Through pain-clouded eyes, Stacy could see that Portia’s belly had taken on a rounded shape. When she looked down, she saw her own stomach had begun to protrude.
“We are fusing a Spanish Donkey ride with French Water Torture. French statute law governed water torture. Punishment was carried out in the public square. It prescribed eleven pints for a female and thirteen for the male. But people in those times were smaller and less robust. You are going to take a full four liters, a little over a gallon. It might interest you to know four liters weighs over nine pounds,” said Sir Charles as he helped himself to a slice of cheese.
In spite of the agony of her swollen belly and ravaged crotch, Stacy felt a small relief when Simone removed the tube from her stomach. She felt and looked seven months pregnant. The weight of the water increased the pressure she felt from the narrow edge of metal against her flesh. Each second added to the pain. In spite of her terrible agony, she reacted in terror when she realized that Francis had taken a position directly in front of her. He was using both hands to bend a cane almost double demonstrating its flexibility. Alex was standing in front of Portia limbering up a similar cane.
“Once the victim’s stomach was filled, the punishment took place. Thirty lashes were the usual. You may proceed,” said Sir Charles.
Stacy had not thought more pain was possible but Francis’ cane stroke proved her wrong. Alex and Francis performed at a slow measured pace while Sir Charles continued his lecture between sips of wine.
“Water serves to amplify the pain much as sound travels faster through water than air. Of course, the dungeon masters of La Belle France did not use sterile water. They preferred the waters of the Paris sewer mixed with the contents of the excrement bucket from the prisoner’s cell. Often they added their own wastes,” said Sir Charles savoring the wine and cheese. A slight pressure in his trousers made him realize viewing the agony of beautiful women was having its usual effect on him. “Simone, would you come do me the honor?”
In spite of the pain, Stacy watched as Simone quickly crossed the room to kneel down in front of Sir Charles. She unzipped his trousers and removed what Stacy had referred to as the Frankenstein of cocks. Portia also noticed the appearance of Sir Charles’ member and made the connection between Sir Charles and Stacy’s account of her encounter with Mistress Charlize at the Auto-De-Fe.
As Francis approached thirty cane strokes, Stacy realized she would do anything that Sir Charles asked rather than continue to suffer. Portia no longer had the capacity to scream. She made loud grunts when Alex’s cane landed.
Precisely at thirty, the caning ceased. The metal wedge was retracted. When Stacy looked down, she saw her abdomen was covered with red stripes. Portia was in the same condition. Her lighter complexion created a stronger contrast with the red stripes of the cane.
Francis and Alex watched quietly while Simone sucked Sir Charles cock. I may live a hundred years and never witness anything as bizarre as this thought Stacy. The three of them absolutely worship Sir Charles. Alex and Francis wish they were the ones blowing him.
The Donkey and the Water torture were the worst. If they had continued for even a few more minutes, I would have become mad as a hatter or is that mad as Sir Charles. Portia and I have to go along or who knows what he will do to us.
The two girls stood mute hoping with all their being they would not be subjected to further torture. Simone was delivering a noisy enthusiastic blowjob rapidly moving up and down the shaft her tongue tracing the scars by left the incisions. Salvia cascaded down on to her lab coat.
Finally, Sir Charles breath quickened and he climaxed. Simone throat bobbed up and down indicating she had swallowed a substantial mouthful of semen. From out of the darkness stepped Edwards to hand Simone a lace trimmed napkin. She carefully and gently wiped off Sir Charles cock then folded the napkin and placed it back on the tray.
“Thank you, Simone,” said Sir Charles. “Now, are you two ready and willing to join Club Josephine?”
“I’ll join,” said Portia anxious to avoid further pain.
“I will too,” said Stacy.
“Excellent, I must inform you any backsliding on your part would result in the most horrible and prolonged deaths. What you have just experienced would be a trifle compared to the several weeks your demise would take. But I prefer to look on the positive side. I see Alex and Francis are most anxious to welcome our new interns. When you are done and they have sufficiently rested, bring them to my quarters for the oath,” said Sir Charles.


Chapter 48 Club Josephine

“As interns, you will receive a stipend of five hundred dollars a week,” said Sir Charles reading from a list of benefits and perks for Club Josephine’s staff members. “It is understood the amount is more significant to you Portia.”
“Five hundred a week, thank you Sir Charles,” said Portia looking up from the bottom of the enormous bed where she and Stacy were busily sucking his cock. The possibility of being paid had not occurred to Portia. But the prospect of having a steady income was extremely gratifying to someone who felt guilty about the demands her Ivy League education placed on her school teacher parents.
It was late Sunday afternoon and Sir Charles was conducting orientation for his two new interns. Two hours before the girls had been awakened from their drug induced sleep. After Edwards had served them a delicious meal and allowed them to bathe, they had been summoned to join Sir Charles in bed. Dressed in nightgowns selected from a closet of such apparel they had followed Edwards to Sir Charles bedroom. They found the lord in the middle of his giant bed studying reports.
“Join me you two,” said Sir Charles enthusiastically indicating they should lie by his side.
They climbed up on the great bed resting their heads on his shoulders.
“I think of Club Josephine as my family,” said Sir Charles pulling the girls tightly to him. “As the two newest members, you will receive training to allow you to participate in our great task. I hope you’ve had no second thoughts about your desire to join our venture.”
“None,” said Stacy.
“I’m in to the end,” said Portia.
“Good, then give us a kiss,” said Sir Charles.
It was not a fatherly kiss they exchanged. Stacy’s hand slipped inside Sir Charles lounging robe to tease his nipples. Portia opened the robe further and the two girls energetically applied their mouths to his augmented breasts.
“You vixens have gotten me aroused. Amuse yourself with my cock while I inform you of the requirements and benefits of belonging to Club Josephine,” said Sir Charles opening his robe to reveal his partially erect manhood.
Neither girl hesitated to scoot down the bed and take Sir Charles in hand as he began to read from a document he selected from his nightstand. His penis’s length and surgical scars made it an awesome appendage each was anxious to explore. It was by no means the first time, Stacy and Portia had shared a penis and they proceeded like the experienced fellatrix they in fact were. They took advantage of its size, energetically applying lips and tongue to different areas of the organ.
Both were only a little the worse for wear from last night’s experience. After they were asleep, Simone had applied a healing salve to the whelps left on their abdomen by the application of the Malacca cane. While their belly still bore the marks of their caning the discomfort was slight and ameliorated by painkillers Edwards had delivered on a silver tray.
The night had not ended with the caning. Deciding his staff deserved a reward for their hard work and flawless execution, Sir Charles had left his three torturers alone with Stacy and Portia. Sir Charles was an educated man of the world. He knew sex was the torturer’s reward and expectation. French water torture, a ride on the Spanish Donkey, and the application of the Malacca cane to their swollen bellies brought Simone and her helpers to the edge of sexual frenzy. Sir Charles went to bed knowing that Simone was clever enough to have arranged a fitting finale.
The origins of the tradition could be traced back in history. The ancient Spartans were renown for their practice of first whipping prisoners to a senseless state then brutally and repeatedly sodomizing them in Sparta’s public square before an approving crowd. Many an Athenian warrior made his way back to Athens with a scarred backside and a barely-functional sphincter. Sexual humiliation was the end game of the dungeon and the whipping post.
Sir Charles own ancestors had played an infamous role in the execution of the Maid of Orleans. A brutish Henry Darnell, an English knight, had led a party of jailors into Joan’s cell the night before she was burned. Having convinced her superstitious clerical judges immolating a virgin was both unlucky and a mortal sin, he and his fellows subverted the Maid’s purity in her final hours. Poor Joan’s hopes of meeting her Savior in a state of virginity were dashed when Henry forced his member into her opening. His rape was only the beginning of a full night of assaults ending in the mortal sin of sodomy. The unfortunate former Maid limped to the stake with Darnell jism seeping from her orifices.
When Sir Charles retired, Simone went into action. The whimpering girls filled to the point of bursting were taken down from the crosses and placed on their swollen bellies over beer kegs borrowed from Club Napoleon’s bar. Restrained in a spread eagle position, each had moaned and thrashed as their incredibly tight abdomens covered with raised whelps had come in contact with the cold metal.
Once Stacy and Portia were secured, Alex and Francis dropped their trousers to allow Simone to administer to them orally. Technically bisexual but with a preference for the male gender, the two stood by the kneeling lover of other’s pain allowing her to service both cocks.
Once their cocks had reached maximum expansion and firmness, they prepared to mount the helpless girls from the rear adding to their acute misery. Following their homosexual preferences, they applied the smallest possible amount of anal lubricant necessary to achieve a painless entry for themselves. For the girls, the lack of lubricant created severe discomfort from the natural friction of a large cock forcing its way into their dry hole. Portia and Stacy, exhausted, with breasts and bellies on fire could only moan and whimper in protest. Particularly painful was the narrow line of flesh where the Spanish Donkey had done its evil task.
“Oh God,” cried Stacy as her rectum was filled with Alex’s sizeable member. The pressure on her swollen abdomen was intense. Both girls grunted loudly as their sodomy achieved a regular pace.
Simone took a seat in the chair vacated by Sir Charles and spread her legs over the padded armrests. She powered on the deep tissue muscle massager she purchased from Macy’s. It was a formidable appearing personal appliance with a two-foot handle and a vibrating round head six inches in diameter. Its advantage over the previous model was the heating unit installed in the vibrating head. Simone dialed the heat adjustment to Medium as she licked her fingers then used them to spread and stroke he sex.
The operation of the appliance was beyond the energy available from a phalanx of D cell batteries. A standard 110-volt electrical plug powered the massager.
Although sold as a cure for tired aching muscles, it’s more frequent use was female masturbation. Simone pressed the buzzing warm head covered with soft rubber nodules against her sex. She smiled and closed her eyes allowing her to concentrate on the sounds emanating from the nearby sodomy.
For Stacy and Portia, it was pure hell but there was no alternative to endurance. Each girl whispered her mantra occasionally pausing to moan, whimper, or scream when the pain became impossible to manage.
Simone’s department store lover accompanied by a deliciously audible background of human suffering produced its expected result, a powerful orgasm that shook her torturer’s world. Simone’s legs flopped wildly over the armrests as she pressed the vibrating latex against her sex using all her strength. Drool and spit sprayed from her lips as out of Sir Charles’ hearing, she screamed her favorite profanities.
“That was a good climax,” announced Simone when she had recovered from her orgasm sufficiently to speak. “Are you ready for me to blow them out?”
“Yes, just about,” said Francis sensing the rise of pressure in his testicles.
“I’m almost there,” said Alex.
Simone stepped to the rear of Alex and Francis. She placed her hand on their rear squeezing their buttocks. The two increased their pace. Both girls’ anuses were angry red-rimmed holes unwilling to fully close once a cock was removed. Simone took advantage of their opening by spitting into their opening. Simone was mildly superstitious and she had been told years before that spitting into the open asshole of someone you tortured was lucky.
“Now,” said Alex offering his hand to Simone. The two helped the diminutive girl to step up on the backs of Portia and Stacy. Even half of Simone’s weight was sufficient to produce the expected result. As the girls felt their rectums fill with semen, they experienced a forced rush of one gallon of water from the stomachs into the plastic buckets Simone had thoughtfully placed on the floor in front of them.
While it was not a prolonged act of torture it was a profoundly painful one. Both females put their last reserves of energy into a final baleful cry that summed up the agony of the last few hours then collapsed.
Fun over, Simone and her two helpers washed the two unconscious girls in warm water, toweled them off and conveyed them to a warm bed in Sir Charles private quarters. Salve was applied to their many whelps and abrasions. Simone’s final act of mercy was to inject each with a drug guaranteed to produce eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.
“Thank you, Sir Charles. Money is always appreciated,” said Stacy who had been concentrating on the underside of Sir Charles’ penis paying special attention to the thin ridge of flesh that bifurcated his testicles and traveled downward to his rectum. A pair of eiderdown pillows elevated Sir Charles’s hips allowing Stacy’s tongue easy access to the peer’s wrinkled anus. It was slick with her saliva. Her efforts to relax and open up the sphincter were beginning to succeed. Rimming had become a favorite endeavor of Stacy. She had become an anal expert capable of coaxing even the most uptight sphincter into relaxing the thin ring of muscle protecting the hidden treasures beyond.
“You will have full member privileges for Club Napoleon including the right to bring guests. Portia, you must bring those two delightful boys, Monk and Les. Their college experience would be incomplete if it failed to include the sexual world of the transvestite.”
“We will. I’m sure they’ll love it. They’ve both mentioned how they would like to have sex with cross dressers,” said Portia continuing to stroke the longest cock she’d ever held.
“Good, other benefits include one hundred percent employer paid health care. We have an excellent plan that is globally recognized by the best hospitals. Some of the perks are less substantial. For example, you can take a suite at London’s Savoy at a rate comparable to a single room. You can sit in my luxury box at Boston Garden if you’re a fan. There will be a complete list in the packet of information you take with you.”
“What will be required of us,” asked Portia?
“As interns you will be expected to work one eight hour shift per week in Club J’s Control Center. And you will be assigned projects including one that involves freeing you from the clutches of Lt. Mike Cabreeze.”
“How long a project will that be,” asked Stacy?
“Over a year I am afraid. As I mentioned to you at Bar Noir last night, Lt. Cabreeze is not the biggest fish that Club J is after. But we will fill you in on all that later. It’s time to take the official oath. My wife, Elspeth, will administer it. Portia you can go first. Mount my cock facing the screen,” said Sir Charles picking up a remote off the bed table and pressing the power on button.
As the wall sized screen flickered to life, Portia straddled Sir Charles. Stacy placed the head of the badly scarred penis into the opening of Portia’s vagina. Fox News appeared momentarily on the screen before Sir Charles switched to an encrypted feed of a video frequency that could only be received and decoded by a combination of hardware and software developed by NSA and non-existent outside the agency except for the system in Sir Charles and Lady Elspeth’s bedrooms.
As Portia slowly lowered herself she felt the over long appendage reach places in her birth canal that had only been visited by the two porn stars who had fucked her at the Women In Harm’s Way Golf Weekend. Portia halted ever few inches taking deep breaths to allow her love tunnel to accommodate its visitor. She wiggled her hips hoping the rigid column of flesh would find the path of least discomfort. Finally, just as Portia’s bottom touched down on Sir Charles’ thighs, the videoconference system completed its initiation sequence. Portia looked up to see a naked female lying in bed between two naked men. The woman looked to be Sir Charles age but the men were much younger. Stacy noted they were both muscular with rugged good looks and sizeable cocks. They each had at least one finger in Lady Elspeth’s vagina.
“Greetings Elspeth, can you hear me?” said Sir Charles.
“Yes, Sir Charles, loud and clear,” said Elspeth.
“Let me begin with introductions. Portia, Stacy, this is my wife Lady Elspeth Darnell,” said Sir Charles.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Elspeth,” said Stacy looking at the screen while continuing to massage Sir Charles’ testicles.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, mum,” said Portia feeling somewhat embarrassed at meeting the wife of a man whose cock was inside her.
“And I am delighted to make yours. Welcome to Club Josephine. Let me introduce Rodney and Beckett,” said Lady Elspeth referring to the two by her side. “Both are members of London’s Club Josephine.”
“Hello, ladies,” said the two waving at the screen. Stacy and Portia responded similarly.
“Who won the match,” asked Sir Charles who was a partial owner of the soccer team that employed the young men’s services. The team was one of the very few assets he publicly acknowledged
“We did,” said Beckett referring to yesterday’s game. The two were standout players and well known throughout the soccer world.
“Rodney and Beckett play for Manchester United,” said Sir Charles.
“Love your decorations, Portia,” said Rodney referring to Portia’s piercings and tattoos.
“Thank you,” said Portia maintaining a slow steady pace of impaling herself on Sir Charles penis.
“We must plan a trip to the Boston Club,” said Rodney thinking it would be great fun to party with Portia and Stacy.
“Sounds like fun,” said Stacy thinking she and Portia would enjoy a weekend of sex with the two.
“The oath, my dear,” said Sir Charles reminding his wife there was a purpose to their video call.
“Yes, of course,” said Lady Elspeth snatching a laminated piece of paper off her nightstand. She moved quickly to mount Beckett’s hard cock so she was in the same position as Portia. Both women were now in the reverse cowgirl position looking directly at one another. Rodney was busily licking Lady Elspeth’s clit as she rose and fell on Beckett’s cock. Stacy was performing the same procedure as Rodney.
Moments later, Portia had sworn her undying loyalty to the Order of the Empress Josephine. She had agreed upon pain of death to faithfully serve the Order in its war on drugs.
Stacy changed places with Portia and repeated the oath. Oaths taking complete, good byes were said and the videoconference ended. But not before, Rodney and Beckett invited the girls to England to watch a match.
***

“Club rules state it’s impolite on weekends to refuse another club member’s request for sexual congress,” said Portia reading from the document detailing Club Napoleon’s rules and regulations.
“I don’t see a problem with that,” said Stacy. The two were in Stacy’s bed; a partially eaten pizza was nearby. Hours before, a limousine had delivered them back to their condo. “I think it would be very interesting to be in a room filled with transvestites, all those tits to suck and dicks to fuck.”
“Back to you,” said Portia focusing her entire being on pushing the double dildo out of her vagina and deep into Stacy’s.
The two were exercising the muscles involved in sexual intercourse by passing a double dildo between them. The exercise required well-developed musculature both in the abdomen and the lining of the vagina. It also required remarkable powers of concentration.
Portia felt the dildo begin to move, pick up speed then impact Stacy’s pussy with an audible thunk.
“Good one,” said Stacy absorbing the impact as her fingers stroked her clit.
“I’m improving but I’ll never be at your level,” said Portia acknowledging Stacy’s superior capability. “You could crush a walnut with that mantrap you call a cunt.”
“I wonder if it’s inherited. Even though my dad has screwed around on my mother, they’ve stayed married. And they still have an active sex life,” said Stacy.
“How do you know they’re active,” said Portia?
“Well, when I still lived there, they used to disappear into their locked bedroom every Sunday afternoon. Mom always had a lift to her step when she emerged. When I dropped by last Sunday to say hello, Manuela said my parents were in their bedroom and did not want to be interrupted.”
“That’s sweet. Send it back,” said Portia bracing herself.
There was an even louder thunk seconds later when Stacy later filled her lungs then exhaled as she contracted her muscles. The dildo landed deep in Portia’s cervix.
“Wow, I felt that all the way to the top of my skull,” exclaimed Portia.
“You exaggerate,” said Stacy.
“Some Saturday night, we should venture out to Club Napoleon for dinner and dancing. Monk and Les can be our dates,” said Portia. “According to this, at midnight on weekends they open something called the maze. It’s a dimly lighted area of narrow hallways and alcoves where patrons can enjoy anonymous encounters. Clothing is not allowed.”
“Sounds like fun. On a more serious note, doesn’t the entire Club Josephine thing strike you as insane?” asked Stacy.
“Totally bonkers, I performed an extensive WEB search on Sir Charles Darnell and even Lady Elspeth Darnell,” said Portia reaching for a slice with anchovies.
“And,” asked Stacy?
“Not much, according to Forbes, he is the fifteenth richest man on the planet but that placement was only a rough estimate. His wealth was at least partially inherited. But Sir Charles has the reputation of a financial genius in the area of commercial real estate. Most of his holdings are in office buildings; however he chooses to mask the extent of his ownership. No one knows the magnitude of his fortune,” said Portia.
“So he may be the fifteenth or the twentieth or the first,” said Stacy as she took a sip of wine.
“The article described Sir Charles as reclusive to the max. He has never been interviewed by the media,” said Portia.
“Just think, we have had the fifteenth richest man’s cock inside us,” said Stacy recalling how it felt to be skewered by Sir Charles.
“To the womb and beyond, and we have played with and sucked his man boobs,” said Portia.
“What else did you find out,” asked Stacy looking at the muted television screen? “Shit, the Yankees are ahead again.”
“Sir Charles took a first at Cambridge in Greek and Latin. Seems like an odd education for a real estate mogul.”
“How about Lady Elspeth?”
“She studied animal husbandry and breeds milk cows. She’s been very successful at increasing milk production by selective breeding. Two of her bulls produce semen sought world over. And this is intriguing. Lady Elspeth was also a Darnell at birth. He married his first cousin,” said Portia.
“Sounds very English, any children,” asked Stacy?
“Two, a daughter who is deceased and a son I can find nothing about. As Sir Charles told you, the daughter overdosed on heroin at a London nightclub.”
“And we are now sworn to avenge her death by assassinating the planet’s drug lords,” said Stacy. “My God, does that strike you as a little ambitious for two young ladies of quality attending an Ivy League college?”
“I think Sir Charles is a genius albeit a mad one. Who would ever suspect a sweet and innocent pair of Harvard coeds could be assassins? I hope we get to start with Cabreeze. Sir Charles was right. Eventually he will find a reason to kill us both,” said Portia.
“I’m not sure that Mike will be first. Sir Charles indicated Mike wasn’t a tier one player but he was the means to reach the top guy.”
“However, he did say he wanted us to gather all the information we could regarding Mike and the Posse’s operations. Where do you think we should start?” said Portia.
“Remember the secret room at the apartment,” asked Stacy?
“Yes, the one with all the guns and ammo,” said Portia.
“I’m talking about the file cabinets full of blackmail dossiers about individuals.”
“Yes, the master copy of Stacy Does Cambridge is there, my all time favorite pussy whacking DVD.”
“I think those files are the key to Mike’s hold over everyone,” said Stacy.
“Maybe he has a video of the Mayor of Cambridge fucking a goat.”
“A goat or something like that, most likely Mark, but it could be drugs, straight sex, or even financial. We need to learn what’s in those files,” said Stacy.
“If there are as many as you say, that would take days if not weeks,” said Portia.
“That’s why we need to make our own copy,” said Stacy.
“And exactly how do we do that,” asked Portia? “You want to share this last slice?”
“No, you can have it. I’m full. We sit down with Simone and the others and figure it out. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”


Chapter 49 Document Retrieval

“There’s the furniture van right on time,” said Portia watching the delivery truck marked, “Simon’s Furniture and Appliance,” park directly in front of the building where the Posse’s apartment was located. The Simon family had been operating a successful chain of local furniture stores for three generations but that particular vehicle had nothing do with their business. It was 10:00AM Monday morning. Stacy and Portia were participating in their first Club Josephine operation.
It had been a busy three months since they became interns. Sir Charles had proved a strong taskmaster requiring the girls to learn all facets of the global drug trade. Portia concentrated on research and analysis while Stacy developed the tradecraft of a field operative.
Portia, Simone, and Alex were in an unmarked step van at the far end of the parking lot. Alex was heavily armed in case something went wrong. Sir Charles always insisted every operation have the capability to shoot its way out of trouble if matters went awry.
“Reynolds certainly looks the part of a deliveryman,” said Portia training her field glasses on the tall muscular man in coveralls who climbed out of the van first.
“I’m not sure Francis is all that convincing,” said Simone watching the much smaller, feminine-featured Francis exit followed by Stacy. “And Stacy’s way too pretty to be delivering a refrigerator.”
“Francis made a delivery to my bottom last night and I thought he looked the part,” said Alex.
“We’re lucky no one’s around,” said Portia watching the identically dressed threesome walk to the back of the truck.
“Even if they were, no would notice anything out of the ordinary,” said Simone. “Apartment dwellers mind their own business.”
Stacy waited as Reynolds used the truck’s power tailgate to lower a large box whose marking indicated it contained a brand name twenty-three cubic feet refrigerator/freezer. The box had been weighted just enough to maintain the fiction something substantial was inside. Reynolds and Francis pretended to manhandle the box onto a two-wheeled dolly. Stacy, clipboard in hand, led them to the building’s elevator.
At Apartment 311, Stacy used her key to open the door. “We’re in,” said Stacy speaking into the tiny microphone clipped to her lapel.
“So far so good,” responded Portia.
Stacy’s first order of business was to retrieve the hidden microphone she had placed under an end table the previous Friday night. Club J’s Control Center had continuously monitored the audio to make sure the apartment was empty. Stacy knew Mike periodically had the apartment checked for electronic ease dropping; so it was important the microphone be removed as soon as possible.
Next, Stacy led the other two to the rear bedroom and then to the closet where she tripped the spring-loaded secret door. Stacy pulled the light cord then took a careful look around. Everything was pretty much as she recalled it. It did seem like there were some additional files lying on the big four-drawer file cabinet. Several new weapons had been added to the arsenal.
“Hold it,” she said to her two companions as she removed a high-resolution digital camera from her pocket. She carefully photographed the room’s layout. Her purpose was to capture exactly how everything appeared at the time of entry. Later when they returned the file cabinet, Stacy could use the images to make sure all was as before. Camerawork finished, she stood aside as Reynolds manhandled the heavy file cabinet on to the two wheeled hand cart and rolled it to the empty refrigerator box they had left in the hall entry way.
Stacy used the rug vacuum to remove the impressions made by the cart’s wheels. Francis held the box’s hinged flap open as Reynolds maneuvered the file cabinet inside the refrigerator box. Stacy closed the secret door. There was the possibility that even if Mike or Zack came by they would have no reason to go into the room and notice the file cabinet was missing. The apartment was seldom used except on weekends and then only at night.
Stacy made a final visual check as she closed the door. To a casual onlooker, it would appear Simon’s was delivering a new refrigerator and hauling away the old one.
Fifteen minutes later the delivery van had crossed over the Charles River Bridge into Boston and backed into the loading dock of an empty warehouse Sir Charles had leased. Inside the warehouse office was the equipment needed to make good quality copies of the file cabinet’s content. Portia had arranged for the short-term rental of a high-speed paper document copier, audiocassette copier, photo reproducer, videocassette high-speed duplicator, and a combination CD and DVD dubbing machine. She had also designed and tested a workflow where the contents of each folder would be separated by media type, duplicated then returned to the folder in its exact original sequence.
The goal was to copy the entire contents of the file cabinet then return it to the apartment by 1:00PM. Stacy, Portia, Francis, Reynolds, and Simone set to work on the first folder. Its subject was Cambridge City Councilwoman, LeAnn Price.
“I didn’t know LeAnn Price was a lesbian,” said Stacy as she fed a photo of the Harvard alumna and prominent local politician and another woman entering the Posse’s apartment. In a clearer second photo, Stacy recognized Wynona, one of her fellow Posse sluts lying on her back in bed while the Councilwoman performed orally. Been there and done that thought Stacy recalling the taste, smell, and appearance of Wynona’s sex.
Stacy placed the folder’s DVD disc in the high speed dubbing system and pressed the Execute button. “Damn, Wynona and LeAnn Price in bed. This I got to see.”
“Stacy, there isn’t time for you to whack off to salacious scenes of local politicos performing perversions. Stay focused. There will be plenty of time later for voyeuristic orgasms,” said Portia.
“Sorry, Portia,” said Stacy taking one more look at Wynona and LeAnn embracing before feeding the document into the photo reproduction equipment.
At slightly before 1:00PM, the Simon truck pulled back into the parking lot. The cover story was that the recipient noticed a dent in the side of the refrigerator and demanded a replacement.
Once Reynolds had maneuvered the file cabinet into place, Stacy used the camera’s display to confirm the cabinet was exactly in the same location on the carpet as it was before.
Stacy would have liked to examine a new Israeli assault rife someone had added to the armaments collection; however she carefully closed the access and helped Reynolds remove any telltale signs from the carpet. Sir Charles had pointed out Posse members being police had access to confiscated weapons. The secret arsenal provided a source of untraceable guns in case the Posse needed to murder someone.

***

“Some of these people are retired or deceased,” said Sir Charles closing a file folder he had been examining “Michael Cabreeze must have started his blackmail activities soon after he graduated the police academy. Arguably, he is the most powerful man in the state, certainly the most powerful officer in the criminal justice system.”
“They weren’t even alphabetized,” said Simone.
“I doubt he had to refer to them often,” said Portia.
“If ever,” said Reynolds looking through a series of still photographs of a Boston police captain accepting a bribe from a local mafia figure.
It was late afternoon of the same day. Sir Charles and the others were reviewing the contents of the copied file cabinet. The number and sophistication of the various blackmail schemes was impressive.
“It’s surprising how successful and widespread he has been at entrapping people in his schemes,” said Portia. “Key legislators in both houses are involved plus he owns three Congressmen and a Senator.”
“He has shown himself to be technologically adept. Earlier files contain film photos and taped voice conversations. The latest employ high definition digital video capture,” said Simone.
“One day when this is over, I’m going to find and seduce Mark. He’s so damn cute and he sucks cock like a dream,” said Alex.
“He’s also a terrific fuck,” said Stacy. “He’s bisexual.”
“No such thing as bisexual, you’re gay, straight or lying,” said Francis.
“That’s homosexual propaganda. I’m definitely bisexual,” said Portia. “In fact, studies show that man’s natural state is most probably likes the bonobos apes, bisexual.”
“What’s a bonobos,” asked Reynolds?
“A subspecies of chimpanzee that is genetically speaking the closed living species to man. Their DNA is a ninety eight point eight percent match to ours,” said Portia.
“And the bonobos are bisexual,” asked Alex? “I wonder where one could acquire a bonobos. They would make a wonderful pet.”
“They love the one they’re with,” said Portia. “That includes male and female, close or distant relatives, absolutely no one is left out.”
“So you are like a bonobos,” said Alex.
“Yes, but I have my preferences,” said Portia leaning over to kiss Stacy who returned the kiss.
“So many lives could be ruined if all this became public,” said Stacy ending the kiss. “I feel like shit about the Russos. I was responsible for that one.”
“You were forced to do it, Stacia. But yes, we must handle it carefully. I’ll establish a review process supplemented by our own research. If someone is an innocent or even not so innocent victim of the Posse’s blackmail scheme, we will destroy his or her file. But if the person has willingly served the Posse and done harm to others, we will allow the files to become public at the appropriate moment.
“It isn’t just public officials. He’s got several newspaper editors and television station owners in his files,” said Simone looking at a photo of an older man kneeling down in front of Mark. Mark was holding the man’s head forcing his cock to the back of his throat. The man’s lips were embedded in Mark’s pubic hair. “This guy Mark’s got a beautiful piece of hardware. Have you done him, Stacy?”
“Yes, many times, talented swordsmen and he gives excellent head,” said Stacy. “I also screwed his father in prison.”
“How was he,” asked Simone? “I’ve heard good things about sex with inmates.”
“Multiple orgasmic, like all serial killers, we plan to get married when he gets out.”
“Oh, will he be paroled anytime soon,” asked Simone?
“Unfortunately, he is serving three life sentences consecutively,” said Stacy.
“You girls are full of shit,” said Reynolds then added, “Sorry, Sir Charles.”
“Very orally gifted young man, Mark Wilson is on my must have list” said Simone looking at another picture of Mark and the station owner engaged in mutual oral.
“I’m getting an erection listening to you talk about him,” said Alex. “Let’s kidnap him and have our way with him. Who’s up for a Mark Wilson gangbang?”
“In due time, Alex, calm down,” said Sir Charles.
“Stacy, you and Vera Russo are so erotic together. It makes me wish I were back in school being spanked by my favorite teacher. And I adore her handsome husband’s penis,” said Francis watching a copy of the Russo DVD on his laptop. “I’ll vote for him when he runs for Congress. Did you find him good in the sack, too?”
“Excellent, although he was wearing a pair of Vera’s red panties,” said Simone.
“I see. How adorable he looks,” said Francis. “Tell me more.”
“It’s a stand up nine incher with an impressive girth, fulfilling to say the least,” said Stacy. “His wife was aggressive at first then passive. It was role-play where the student gets spanked then the teacher.”
“I love it,” said Francis watching the screen.
“Have you seen them since you made the DVD,” asked Simone?
“No, Mike and the Posse occasionally bang her while hubby watches; then he eats her cream pie. Their relationship is complicated.”
“And what an adorable mushroom head. My man pussy would adore having it deep inside,” said Francis continuing to watch as Vera paddles Stacy while her husband masturbates. “Is he bi?”
“Probably, don’t know for sure but I would suspect under different circumstances his mushroom could find its way inside your tush. Vera is definitely into girls. She wanted us to get together for one on one,” said Stacy.
“Enough, I’m hard as Gibraltar,” said Sir Charles. “I suggest we go to my room, get in bed, and watch Stacy Does Cambridge together.”
“Excellent idea,” said Francis. “I’ll fantasize that those two darling boys bonking Stacy are fucking my ass not hers.”


>> next

Back to A Collection | Back to main page