Taxi to Torture

MM/f, nc, cons, tort, bdsm


Taxi to Torture


>> another story by Pamela


It was my first day on the job, and frankly, sex was about the last thing on my mind, for a change. I had thought driving a taxi would be an easy way to make some extra cash. And sometimes it is, once you get used to it, but on that first day I was really sweating it out, what with fighting the traffic and looking for fares and making out the trip sheet, and worrying about taking people the shortest way to where they wanted to go, and all the time wondering would I make enough money during the day for it all to be worth it.

So when I picked up the one with the fur coat and the shopping bag in front of Bloomingdale’s, I probably didn’t look her over with the same amount of interest I would have ordinarily shown. And certainly I didn’t have any idea about getting involved in the kind of scene that followed. I won’t deny that when I first thought about driving a taxi I had some pretty heavy fantasies about making it with beautiful female passengers. But that was just the usual kind of stuff you daydream about; and now, faced with the reality of getting this one to the address she gave me on East Eighty-Fourth, the only thing on my mind was should I continue up Third Avenue or swing over to First.

I decided on the latter, and as I was heading east on Sixtieth my passenger spoke up.

“You’re one of the in-betweens,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?” I took a quick look at her in the rear-view mirror, and as she caught me eyes there, she smiled slightly. She had an elegant, kind of aristocratic look. She was maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight, tall and slim, with shoulder-length brown hair, dark eyes, prominent cheekbones which contributed to the elegant look. So did her clothes–white cashmere sweater and an expensive-looking skirt-and-jacket combination. She had thrown off the fur coat, which she didn’t need anyway; it was a balmy June day. The jacket kept me from seeing just how much of a bulge the breasts made in the sweater, but the skirt was short enough to show that she had very good legs, slender but shapely.

“I said you’re one of the in-betweens.” Her voice was dry, languid, the tone hovering between amusement and boredom; a very social-register-type voice. “It used to be,” she went on, “that all the taxi drivers were rotund little middle-aged men, mostly obnoxious. You know, with the balding head and the cigars and the incessant opinions.”

I had to laugh. “Were they all that bad?”

“Oh, don’t use the past tense, Mr. Wulf,” she said. I was startled when she used my name, until I realized she had gotten it from the identification card on the back of the seat. “Some of them are still with us, though not many. Nowadays we mostly get the foreigners–the ones who don’t know a thing about the city, but make up for it by not speaking a word of English.”

I didn’t say anything.

“But in between,” she went on, “for a while there, there was a whole spate of your type. The young hairy ones. I’m so glad to see they haven’t died off.”

Well, I don’t think of myself as particularly hairy, though I guess I do go too long between haircuts sometimes, and at that time I was trying on a mustache. But I didn’t say anything, just concentrated on turning onto First Avenue.

After a moment she said, “Is this your life goal, cab-driving, or are you really a struggling young actor or an unemployed executive or something?”

Something about the almost mocking tone of her voice made me feel kind of edgy; but when I glanced at her again in the mirror she was busy lighting a cigarette. So I said, “No, I’m a student. I go to N.Y.U. I’m just doing this for the summer, to make some money. You know.”

“I see. What are you studying at N.Y.U.?”

“Engineering. I’m going to be an electrical engineer.”

“That’s marvelous,” she said, sounding bored. And then she said, “When we get to my place you’ll come up with me, won’t you?”

I had stopped for a red light, and I was so surprised and distracted by what she had said that I was slow starting up again when it turned green, and the car behind me honked his horn. Then I stepped on the gas too quickly, and the car started with a jerk. I felt like an idiot.

“I beg your pardon?” I said.

“Again?” She leaned forward, rested her arms on the top of the seat, with her mouth not far from my ear, and said very distinctly, “I said: When we get to my place I want you to come up with me. To my apartment.” And she sat back again.

Now I’m not dumb, and I’m not backward with the girls, but this lady was something else. “What for?” I asked.

I heard her exhaling smoke. “What for,” she said in that bored-amused voice, “do you think?”

What I was thinking–if I was thinking–I don’t remember, but for some reason I was kind of flustered, maybe slightly panicked, and I said, “We’re…uh…we’re not supposed to…to leave the cab alone. You know? I mean, except for lunch, and like that. We’re supposed to…uh…stay…uh…”

“Oh,” she said. “I see.”

I thought she might have been a bit pissed off, but I couldn’t really tell. There was silence for the next block or two. Then she said, “Well. Suppose–just suppose–I were to… accidentally…leave something behind. In the taxi. Wouldn’t you then have an obligation to return it to me?”

“Well I–I guess so. Yeah. I mean, we have a place to turn in lost articles and stuff, but…”

“But if you knew I had left it, and you knew where I lived, it would be only natural for you to return it directly to me. Wouldn’t it?”

“I…guess. Sure. I guess.”

“Well, good.” And with that, she turned so that she was sitting sideways, swung her legs up onto the seat and stretched them out in front of her. The skirt rode high, showing a large amount of bare and beautifully curved thigh flesh. I didn’t know what she was up to, but my eyes were jerking madly back and forth between the mirror and the traffic. But what she did next almost caused an accident.

Because she took hold of the bottom of the skirt with both hands and pulled it up even further, pulled it up to the tops of her legs. And then she hitched herself up a little to get her ass clear of the seat, and pulled it all the way up around her waist.

I don’t know why we didn’t crash, because I know my attention was sure as hell not on the road. I had all I could do not to turn around and look at her directly. I was praying for another red light, but now the traffic was moving smoothly and I was making all the greens–they’re timed, up First Avenue.

She was wearing a pair of brief bikini panties, light green and filmy. Long shapely legs below them and a strip of creamy flesh above them. She knew I was watching her as much as I could, because she smiled at me in the mirror again–a really provocative smile this time–and then she hooked her thumbs in the panties and pushed them down. Down over her hips. Slid them down her thighs. Lifted her legs and pulled them off, then dropped them on the floor of the car.

I had a hard-on.

Which wasn’t helped by what she did next. Instead of pulling her skirt down and straightening up, as I expected, she first ran her hand up her thigh, kind of teasingly, and when it reached her crotch she ruffled her fingers casually through the soft patch of brown pubic hair. And then–with another deliberately sexy smile into the mirror–then she parted her knees and spread them apart, one resting against the back of the seat, the other–the one nearer to me–lying almost flat on the seat itself.

I could see right into her open cunt.

I swear I don’t know how I continued to drive; I wasn’t seeing anything but that mirror. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind was the thought that somebody could see her through the window, and there could be trouble. But it didn’t seem to bother the lady. She stayed there, wide open, smiling and combing her bush with her fingers and letting me look.

Then I heard my own voice, sounding dry and kind of choked. “I–we–we’re going to have an accident if you keep that up,” I was saying.

“Oh. Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?” Unhurriedly, even gracefully, she closed her legs, swung her feet to the floor and adjusted her skirt. I gave a sigh that was part relief, part regret. “Anyway, we’re coming to my street,” she said. “It’s the next corner.”

“Yeah.” I swung onto Eighty-Fourth and concentrated on looking for the number she had given me. It was a big fancy apartment building, and I pulled up in front of it and pushed down the flag on the meter. I was sweating a little.

“That’s four ninety-five,” I said.

She handed me a ten-dollar bill. “Keep it.”

“Hey, thanks!”

“Oh, I can do better than that,” she said meaningfully. The doorman of the building had approached the cab, and now opened the door for her to get out. Before she did she leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Just in case you should find anything I left behind, my name is Harris and my apartment is Sixteen-A.” And then she slid out of the car. The doorman closed the door and I drove away.

But not very far. I went to the end of the block and around the corner, looking for a place to park. When I found one I stopped. Then I sat there for a little while, thinking.

Because, like I said, it was my first day. And we WEREN’T supposed to leave the cab unattended for any long period of time. And if I took some time off I wouldn’t be making any money–as well as possibly being fired. So I thought about those things.

And then I thought of the elegant, sensuous woman who had exposed herself to me in my cab. I remembered her clean, cared-for good looks. And her long sexy legs. And what was between them. And I made the decision I had known I would make all along.

I scrambled up on the seat and stretched over the back so I could reach down and retrieve the tiny garment she had left on the floor in back. The sheer green panties felt like silk, and smelled–yes, I smelled them–of a combination of light perfume and musky woman-scent. I stuffed them in my pocket and got the hell out of the cab.

Back at the apartment house, the doorman looked at me suspiciously as he opened the door for me, and some guy behind a desk in the lobby practically held his nose when he took in my old leather jacket and rumpled jeans. “Yes?” he said in an icy voice. I almost expected him to tell me the trade entrance was around the back or something.

“Harris,” I said. “Sixteen-A.”

He arched his eyebrows disdainfully, as if he didn’t believe me. “Your name, please?”

“Wulf. Mel Wulf.”

He picked up a telephone and punched two numbers. “A Mr. Wulf,” he said into it, “to see Mrs. Harris.”

So it was MRS. Harris. Well, her husband was probably at work now. Or she was a rich widow. I didn’t care. I felt for the panties in my pocket.

“You may go up,” the guy said, but you could tell he wasn’t happy about it. I got into the elevator. The operator took me up and waited to see that the door was answered before he went away.

The door was answered, all right. Not by the lady of the taxi, but by a maid. You could tell she was a maid because she was wearing a maid’s costume–kind of. It was black and brief, stopping short just below her crotch. And you could see through it.

She had very long, wavy blonde hair, worn loose, and clear blue eyes, and a wide, voluptuous mouth. In fact, voluptuous was the word for her altogether. her figure was a contrast to the slim elegance of her employer, being deliciously full and rounded. Her breasts were large and seemed to be almost bursting from her chest, but thrust out buoyantly, without sagging a bit–and I could see that there was nothing supporting them under the filmy black uniform. Her legs were bare and so fantastically shapely, from the flesh sweep of her thighs through the curved perfection of her calves down to her slender ankles, that they seemed to go on forever, though she was not particularly tall.

I must have been gaping like an idiot, but she showed no expression. “Mr. Wulf?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Come in, please.” Because of the black uniform, I guess, I had been half-expecting a French accent; but if anything her speech sounded British, very clipped and cool. Inside, she took my jacket and hung it up in a closet.

“Madam is awaiting you,” she said. “This way, please.”

She took me down a long hall and at the end of it opened a door and motioned me inside. It seemed to be a bedroom. Well, that was fine with me. I stepped in, and stopped short, staring. For a moment I couldn’t even breathe.

Madam was awaiting me, all right. There wasn’t much else she could do. She was spread-eagled on a large bed and tied to it hand and foot, each wrist and ankle bound with a piece of rope which in turn was attached to one of the corner bedsteads. She looked pretty tightly stretched. And she was naked.

She smiled at me, the same enigmatic, provocative smile as in the taxi. “Hello, Mr. Wulf,” she said calmly. “How nice of you to return what I left behind. Thank you.”

I swallowed hard. “What–what’s going on?” I said stupidly.

“I’m being punished,” she said. “For losing my panties. Do you like me this way?”

“I…well…yes.” It was true. Her body, slender as it was, was beautifully proportioned, and the way she was spread out brought every detail into sensuous prominance. Her skin was white and very smooth and absolutely flawless.

“Good. Would you like to make love to me?”

I nodded. If she had looked at what was happening to the front of my pants she wouldn’t have had to ask.

“I’m glad,” she said. “I would like that too–if Jessica will allow it.”

For the first time I was aware that the maid had followed me into the room. I guessed she was Jessica. “You have to get her permission?” I asked, trying hard to be cool in the face of this weird scene.

“Oh, yes. You see–” Mrs. Harris began; but Jessica cut in, coming further into the room.

“Madam is talking too much,” she said. Her voice was quiet but carried an authoritative ring which didn’t go with the maid’s costume.

Mrs. Harris lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said docilely.

“We will give you something to stop up your mouth,” Jessica went on.

She turned to me. “Take off your clothes, please.”

I stared at her. “Hey, wait a minute–”

“Yes?” she asked simply, when I couldn’t think of anything more.

“Well, I–I mean look, I…I don’t know about what you do with HER, but I don’t like to be ordered around.”

“There is no need for you to be,” she replied in the same calm tone. “You may leave if you wish.”

I thought about that. I took off my clothes.

I felt pretty awkward standing naked while the two women looked me over. I also felt very horny. My cock was standing up stiff and tall and obvious; there wasn’t much I could do about it.

“Nice, isn’t it?” the lady on the bed murmured.

Jessica strode to the bedside. “I told you to be quiet, Madam,” she said. She reached down and took one of the lady’s delicate red nipples between her thumb and forefinger.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Harris said in an apprehensive tone. “Please, Jessica. I’m sorry.”

“I should think so,” the blonde girl said. And she squeezed the nipple, hard. I saw her nails digging into the flesh.

The lady bit her lip, then began to moan piteously. Her face twisted with pain. Her body writhed in its bonds. After a long moment, Jessica let go.

My throat was dry. I didn’t know if I was excited or repelled. “Jesus,” I said hoarsely. “Why did you do that? Why does she take it?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Jessica snapped. “She pays me to abuse her. Don’t you?” she asked Mrs. Harris. “You may answer.”

“Yes,” the lady said softly.

“And that will be the last word out of you for some time,” the blonde said. “Mr. Wulf, please stop up her mouth. With that.” And she pointed to my cock. “It certainly looks big enough.”

It was hard enough, for sure. I walked over to the bed. I wasn’t sure how I was going to go about it, but Jessica solved that problem. “On the bed,” she instructed me firmly. “Straddle her, and sit on her breasts.”

So I got up on the bed and swung myself over her chest. I lowered myself until I felt her hard nipples touch my ass. My prick arched toward her face, and her eyes followed it.

“Sit right down on her,” Jessica commanded. Her voice grew contemptuous.

“Don’t worry about crushing her silly little tits. She’ll suck better if you’re hurting her.”

I was too far gone to argue. I sat on her breasts. She gasped and then started to whimper. Her eyes turned to the watching maid, as if for help.

“Now, Madam,” Jessica said.

Mrs. Harris raised her head and reached for me with her mouth. She had to strain and crane her neck to do it, but she managed. She took my eager cock between her lips and slid her mouth down over it. Her lips were soft and tender. I felt the touch of her tongue, and I couldn’t help moaning with pleasure. Then she began to suck me.

Slowly and lovingly, as she lay roped and spread on the bed with me crushing her elegant breasts beneath me. the lady pleasured me with delicious expertise. From time to time, as she sucked, she looked up at me with brown melting eyes. The whole scene was blowing my mind, and I didn’t think I could keep my control very long. But Jessica was watching closely, and as I began to get close to the edge, she grabbed Mrs. Harris by the hair and pulled her head back, dragging her mouth off me. She fell back on the bed, gasping. I was kind of gasping myself.

“Madam uses her mouth well, does she not?” Jessica said to me. “No, don’t get up, Mr. Wulf. I want her to remain under your weight while I take advantage of her…oral talents.”

With this, she reached behind her and opened something, unzipped something, and her uniform fell away. I felt stunned as I stared at her beautiful, ripe, fantastically sexy naked body. I watched her amazing breasts jiggle as she climbed onto the bed and positioned herself above her employer’s head, facing me. With knees spread wide on either side of the lady, she lowered herself until she was sitting on her face, her crotch directly over Mrs. Harris’ mouth.

“Now, Madam,” she said again.

I couldn’t really see what Mrs. Harris was doing, but evidently she was being as good to Jessica as she had been to me, because the blonde girl soon began to breathe heavily, and her eyes seemed to glaze over. But she kept her tone of command, even though her voice was less firm. “Yes,” she breathed. “Keep that tongue busy, Madam. Yes…Deeper, you bitch…Harder…Yes…”

In my still rigid and unfulfilled state, watching her luscious body squirming and jerking was driving me nuts. Almost without realizing I was doing it, I raised my hands to her heaving, bursting breasts. She made no objection; I wasn’t even sure she was aware that I was touching her. The bouncing globes were amazingly firm under my hands. The skin was warm and smooth, and the jutting nipples felt even harder than they looked. I stroked them, wondering for a moment how she would react if I pinched them as she had done to Mrs. Harris.

But now the writhing blonde leaned toward me, without breaking her contact with her employer’s mouth. “Kiss me,” she panted.

It was an order, but once again I couldn’t resist. I met her open mouth with mine. Her lips were fierce and fiery, and her tongue immediately thrust itself into my mouth. I held on to her breasts, and we kissed voraciously, mouths mashed together while our tongues caressed and searched and explored.

She began to moan as Mrs. Harris’ ministrations pushed her gradually but inexorably toward climax, and her moans vibrated in my mouth and seemed to come from both of us at once. The moans got louder and louder; she kissed me even more fiercely as her body twisted with pleasure. Then she stiffened and tore her mouth away from mine, throwing back her head and giving a series of full-throated shrieks as she jerked out her orgasm.

I stayed where I was, waiting to see what was going to happen next. I didn’t have to wait long. Even before Jessica’s breathing had completely returned to normal, she was reaching out for my prick. She stroked it appreciatively.

“I want this now,” she panted. And she raised herself off Mrs. Harris’ face and hitched herself forward until her body was against me. And before I had time to recover from that, she was lowering herself down on my cock.

I slid into her easily; she was moist and slick from the lady’s mouth and from her orgasm, but she was also incredibly snug and clinging. She groaned as she took me in completely. Her marvelous breasts flattened against my chest, the nipples boring into me. I wrapped my arms around her and felt her nails digging into my back as she began to move.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware of Mrs. Harris making painful noises; her crushed breasts were now bearing the weight of both of us, and our rhythmic jouncing must have added to the discomfort. But I couldn’t think about that now, and in any case I couldn’t stay long in that position with Jessica bouncing against me. I fell backwards and she fell on top of me, her body spread gloriously over mine while she continued to fuck me wildly.

She was fantastic and beautiful, and for a while I really dug lying there and letting her go to town. I grabbed her luscious ass and held on to it as it pumped energetically up and down. She was wriggling and panting and sweating, and I was going out of my skull with the pleasure of it. But after a time I felt I wanted to take a more active part in the whole thing. So I heaved up and rolled us over, bringing her beneath me without breaking contact. We were still lying on top of Mrs. Harris, and with her as our mattress we continued to screw harder than ever.

Jessica’s smooth, gorgeous legs wrapped themselves around me; her body arched, bucked and twisted under mine, and I plunged into her again and again with deep, steady strokes. Underneath our continuous gasps and moans and wordless cries, I could still hear the noises Mrs. Harris was making as we revelled on top of her bound body. I thought of rolling us off to one side of the bed, or even to the floor, but Jessica had begun to move faster still, her groans loud and hoarse in my ear. She was approaching climax, and so was I. I thrust harder, stabbing savagely deep into her eager cunt as her body started to go out of control. We were perfectly timed; I felt my own control slipping as she went into an intense series of spasms, screaming with joy as each wave broke over her. I held on to her and cried out my own ecstasy, exploding deliciously again and again inside her clutching, jouncing cunt.

Then we collapsed, exhausted and perspiring. After a moment I disengaged myself and pulled away from her, sitting up on the side of the bed because I didn’t want to burden the bound lady any further. But Jessica had no such compunction; she continued to loll carelessly on top of her employer’s body. Mrs. Harris was still moaning, but more softly now. Otherwise she just lay there staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” I said to Jessica when I had regained my breath. “How about getting off her now?”

“Don’t worry about her,” Jessica said, shifting her body lazily but not moving anyplace. “The bitch loves it.”

Okay, I figured, the lady was evidently able to speak for herself, so maybe Jessica was right. I felt sorry, looking at the taut, sensuous body stretched out underneath the blonde, that I hadn’t gotten to make love to her after all. Not that I regretted making it with Jessica–that was great. But now I felt depleted for the moment, and I assumed the fun and games were over.

I was wrong. Jessica saw me looking at the lady’s body, and smiled icily. “Still want her?” she said in a mocking tone. “Even after me? Such energy!” She sat up on Mrs. Harris’ stomach. “Well, why not? I suppose the silly slut won’t be happy until she screws you, will you, Madam? But Mr. Wulf doesn’t look quite ready for you yet. You’ll have to get it up for him first, won’t you? And you’ll be sucking my juices off him while you do it; how nice.” Then she turned to me again. “Put it back in her mouth,” she said.

Beautiful or not, I was getting kind of tired of Jessica and her superior tone. And, as I said, I didn’t like being ordered around. Of course I admit it was a lot easier to resist now that I wasn’t as horny as before. So I said, “Look, why don’t you stop telling me what to do, okay?”

She raised her eyebrows in a way that made me want to hit her. “Stop making silly noises,” she said flatly. “You want to fuck her. Well, stick it in her mouth and let her suck you hard, then give it to her, that’s all. Or else leave.”

That did it. I stood up and grabbed her by the upper arms, pulling her up off the bed. I was really pissed off. “Listen, you bitch,” I said, holding her fast in spite of her efforts to pull away. “You may be a great lay, but you’re also a pain in the ass.” I shook her a little. Her breasts did interesting things, but I was too mad to be distracted. “Your rich boss may dig that kind of treatment,” I went on, “but it doesn’t go down with me. I like to give my own orders. Okay? You got that?”

I was shaking her more roughly, and I hadn’t realized how hard my fingers were digging into her arms. But something had happened. She had stopped struggling, and her face had softened. There was a strange look in her eyes. I stopped shaking her. “Okay?” I repeated.

She was staring at me in this strange way; and then her eyes lowered. “Yes, sir,” she said in a very soft voice. And then she said, “What would you like me to do?”

Well now.

“I want YOU to suck me,” I said, keeping my tone rough, though my anger had been surprised away by Jessica’s abrupt reversal. But, if that was what it took…. “YOU take it in your mouth. YOU get me ready for her. YOU suck your juices off me. And do it good. Now. On your knees.”

“Yes,” Jessica whispered, and as I let her go she sank slowly and gracefully to her knees in front of me. There were marks on her arms where I had been holding her. She made a soft noise in her throat as she brought her face to my crotch. Her mouth opened. I gasped and clutched at her hair.

Her mouth was not slow, warm and gentle as Mrs. Harris’ had been. She was hungry and voracious, yet utterly submissive to my pleasure. She used her tongue on me first, licking off the stickiness remaining from our fuck. Then she kissed the length of my cock, her lips soft and pliant on the sensitive skin. And when I ordered her to take it in her mouth, she engulfed it totally, sucking and licking it as it thrust deeper and deeper into her willing and talented throat.

I was hard as a rock again, and now felt as lustful as ever. I wanted Jessica’s wonderful sucking to go on forever; but I finally forced myself to pull away from her. Leaving her there on her knees, I turned back to the bed and looked down at the bound woman. Her eyes were fastened on my rigid and throbbing prick. She was breathing quickly, and her nipples were hard. After a moment she looked up at me with a return of her slightly teasing smile.

“Well, Mr. Wulf,” she breathed softly. “I’m glad to see that you are going to be able to make love to me after all.”

“You bet your ass,” I said. I put a hand on her breast. It didn’t feel at all crushed; it felt firm and springy. I remembered the little strip-tease in the cab, and I wanted her. I turned to Jessica, who was still kneeling, and said, “Untie her.”

The blonde started to get up, but Mrs. Harris objected. “No!” she said sharply. Then her voice changed. “Please, Mr. Wulf. Please. I admire your mastery, and the wonderful way you tamed my maid. But if I may, I would like you to take me as I am now. You will not find it unpleasant, I promise you.”

I hesitated, looking down at the lovely spread-eagled body; and as I was considering, I heard what sounded like a key being turned in the front door of the apartment. Then a door opened and closed. There were footsteps.

I froze. I thought I saw a fleeting smile on Jessica’s face. Mrs. Harris’ expression did not change. “Oh,” she said calmly. “That must be my husband.”


The bedroom door was open, and the footsteps were coming down the hall. I made a quick dive for my clothes; but I had no more than picked up my pants before a man came into the room.

I only hoped he didn’t have a gun.

But he didn’t look very dangerous. He was an old man, very frail-looking, with sparse white hair and rimless eyeglasses. he wore a three-piece suit. He peered around the room at the three of us, all naked–his wife tied to the bed, Jessica kneeling on the floor, me stupidly holding my jeans in front of my crotch. he was scowling, but he didn’t seem at all shocked or even particularly surprised.

“At it again, you slut?” he said to his wife. His voice was high, but sounded stronger than the rest of him.

“Yes, Bernard,” she answered coolly. “Jessica is punishing me for losing my panties in Mr. Wulf’s taxi. This is Mr. Wulf.” She nodded in my direction. “A most extraordinary young man. He has succeeded in dominating Jessica, and was just about to make love to me when you came in.”

“You’re a whore, Emma,” the man said. It was the first time I had heard Mrs. Harris’ first name. Then he turned to the maid. “Jessica, I’ve had a hard day. Come and piss on me.”

“Yes, sir,” Jessica said. She rose and followed him out of the room, closing the door behind them.

“Alone at last,” the lady said, in the same dry, mocking tone she had used in the taxi.

My head was swimming. I was feeling a lot of things at once. I had just had the shit scared out of me; my mind was being blown over this whole scene, which kept ketting weirder; I was still worried about losing my job; and I was pissed off because I felt I was being played with, without being able to do much about it.

And one other thing. My dick was harder than ever.

So I dropped my jeans and went back to the bed. As I looked down at the half-teasing, half-mocking smile and the pampered, tied-down body, I felt my lust and anger blot out the other emotions. I wanted to wipe that smile from her face, and I wanted to fuck the hell out of her.

I got up on the bed and straddled her again, but I didn’t sit on her this time. Instead, I lowered my crotch toward her face. Her mouth opened for my cock, but I wasn’t after her mouth now. Guiding my prick with my hand, I rubbed it over her face. I don’t know why, but it made me feel good to push my rod into he elegant countenance. I slid it over her eyes, along her nose, rubbed it around her mouth. It left a thin, slimy trail of moisture behind it, and I liked that too.

When I finished with her face, I went lower, rubbing her neck with it, then her upper chest, until I got to her breasts. I moved the rigid tool over their entire surfaces, poked with it at her nipples, slid it underneath the lower slopes of the shapely mounds and into the shallow valley between them.

Then lower, sliding myself back and forth over her flat stomach, her waist–and then down over one softly curving thigh, my cock tingling as it slipped and slid along the smooth inner flesh, and up the other one.

She hadn’t made any protest; in fact, she was breathing hard, so I figured what I was doing was turning her on. But I didn’t care about her any more–I just was bursting to take her. I was right in position now. The outer lips of her cunt were pulled open by her widespread legs. I guided my cock between them. She was moist and ready. I thrust hard, sliding into her all the way up.

She gave an animal-like cry and I swear I felt her vagina contract around me. Her hips began to move. Though her body was stretched taut by her bound arms and legs, she still seemed to have plenty of play in her torso. She used it too, swiveling and squirming and pumping away, while she moaned and panted and made deep wordless noises in her throat.

I did my share of pumping too, but I wasn’t in any hurry about it. I lay down flat on top of her, stretching my legs along hers, just wallowing in her body and in her limited but frantic movements. Her breasts were like little squirming animals under my chest. She turned her head, her mouth searching for mine, but I avoided it and instead sunk my teeth onto her earlobe. She cried out again.

“Fuck, you bitch,” I whispered harshly into her ear.

“Yes!” she whimpered, moving harder. “Oh yes!”

This urge to degrade her was still pushing at me. Why? Because she had acted so snobbishly? Because she was rich? Because she seemed to revel in it? I didn’t know, but I couldn’t help it.

“You’re a whore,” I breathed as I thrust at her. “Just like your husband said.”

“Yes,” she panted. “A whore.”

“You dirty slut. I’m fucking the shit out of you.”

“Oh yes. Yes! Do it. Yes!” she babbled. We were both getting carried away now, lunging at each other and panting hard. I raised up on my elbows to get better leverage and looked down into her face as I rammed into her as hard and as deep as I could. She wasn’t smiling now; her face was twisted with passion, her mouth wide and gaping. Her head rolled from side to side, and her arms strained involuntarily against the ropes binding her wrists. Breathless noises tumbled from her throat, and soon she was babbling again, her words semi-coherent and interspersed with groans and cries.

“Oh god!” she wailed. “Oh give me, yes, oh do that, oh Jesus Christ….Yes, harder, yes, kill me….Fuck me, ah, fucking me with your cock….Ohhh…Ahh…Oh I can’t…oh yes…AAHH!…So good….I…I love…it….More! More! More!!…Jesus, oh god, oh Jesus, I’m going to…Screw me! Yes!!…I’m….Oh please… More….Give it to me….Fast, oh fast, oh, lord…It’s…I’m…. I’m going to…come!…Going to come!…Yes! Yes, now….Now!… Now!!…AAAHH!…AAAAHHH!!…AAAIIIEEEE!!!!”

And she came like an earthquake, her body jerking and bouncing so hard I thought she was going to bust the ropes. I was right on the verge also, but I held out through her climax, and then had a sudden urge to do something I’d never done before. As I felt myself about to shoot, I pulled quickly out of her, raised myself up, and spurted my sperm directly onto her heaving, quivering breasts.

She was lying with her eyes closed, panting exhaustedly, and except for a soft moan when my come hit her, showed no sign of being aware of anything. But I again felt a strange satisfaction from seeing the ropy strands of gism lying across her proud tits. I even had an impulse to rub the stuff into that flawless skin, but I was too worn out now to do anything but collapse beside her.

As I did so, I was startled to hear the sound of someone clapping. I looked up and saw Jessica and old Mr. Harris standing in the doorway. I had never even heard them come in. Jessica was stlll naked, and Harris was wearing a bathrobe. He looked like he had just taken a shower. He was the one who was clapping.

“Bravo!” he said, but I didn’t like the way he said it. “It’s good to see the randy slut get fucked silly. I congratulate you, Mr….Wulf, is it? Emma seems to have picked a winner this time. Usually her taste is deplorable. Once she gets the scent of cock in her nostrils there’s not telling what she’ll come up with. But you’ve given the bitch just what she needs. And Jessica too! Congratulations again.”

Jessica turned to him and slapped him across the face. “Shut up!” she said sharply.

Harris’ tone softened. “Of course, my dear. No offense.” He turned back to me. “Well, young man, what’s next?”

I was sick and tired of this whole buggy scene. I got up and headed for my clothes. “Next I’m getting out of here,” I said.

“Don’t go,” Jessica said. But when I looked at her she added: “Please.”

“Thanks for everything,” I said, pulling on my pants. “But I’ve had it. As it is, I’ve probably lost my job.”

“Oh?” Harris said. “Why is that?”

“I just started driving a cab today, and here I’ve left it alone most of the afternoon.” I was buttoning my shirt and stepping into my shoes at the same time. “Even if it isn’t stolen, there’ll be nothing on the meter for all this time. I don’t think my boss is going to like it.”

Now Emma spoke from the bed. “I think we can help you with your boss. Can’t we, Jessica?”

“Why not?” the blonde said. “Just tell him what you’ve been doing, and tell him if he doesn’t make trouble for you, you’ll give him our address.”

I stared at her, though I shouldn’t have been surprised any more at anything about this crew. “But can I? Give it to him?”

“Of course,” Emma said. “Anything for a friend. He might even be fun.”

“I have a better idea,” Harris said. He began to whisper in Jessica’s ear. A slow smile spread over her face.

“Very good,” she said softly. “The cunt would probably love it. But perhaps we should keep that idea for a while. I think Mr. Wulf has been shocked enough by us for one day.”

“Nonsense,” Harris said, and I thought Jessica was going to slap him again. But he went on to me: “You work out of a garage, I assume?”

“That’s right.”

“Big place, drivers coming in and out all day long, waiting around, along with others–dispatchers, mechanics, supervisors–mostly men?”


“Excellent,” he said. “Wouldn’t those men like to have something to amuse themselves with? Something other than the usual card games and so on–to pass the time?”

“You mean–”

“I mean my wife,” Harris said. “I would like to have Emma spend a day in that place. Tied down, as she is now–on the floor, if necessary. All day long. Available to all those men, dozens of men, one after another. Taking her again and again, with no rest and no mercy. Man after man after man. All day long.”

A sound came from the lady on the bed. It could have been a sound of protest, or apprehension, or horror. But I didn’t think it was any of those things.

“Oh,” she whimpered softly. “Oh god. Oh.”

“Would you like that, Emma?” Harris asked.

“Oh. Oh Jesus.” She was writhing slightly.

“I told you the whore would adore it,” Jessica sneered. “Look at her. She’s turned on again already. Get over there,” she said to the old man. “I want you to do to her what I just did to you.”

Harris smiled. The two of them slowly approached the spread-eagled Emma, who had begun to moan. They weren’t paying attention to me now, and I knew now was the time to split.

And yet part of me wanted to stay and watch.

For once I made a wise decision, and got the hell out of there.


Sure enough, I was in trouble. It was close to the end of my shift by the time I got back to the cab, and though I managed to pick up two more short trips before I had to go into the garage, I had been off duty too long for it not to be apparent in the money I had taken in.

Eddie Osindorf, the garage owner, checked everybody’s receipts when they came in. You had to check out with him in his little office before you went home. He was a suspicious type , and he knew all the angles the drivers used to cheat the owners and keep a little more for themselves–he used to be a driver too. He was one of Mrs. Harris’ stereotypes–middle-aged, paunchy, balding and bad-tempered. He didn’t smoke cigars though. He chewed gum.

He looked at the record of how much I had brought in, and scowled. He glanced up at me swiftly, his eyes narrow. I tried to look innocent. He started to say something, then decided to hold off. He grabbed up my trip sheet and studied it. The scowl got deeper.

“What the fuck is this?”

“What?” I said, playing it cool.

He gave me the look again. “Don’t fuck with me, kid. You got a big hole here. Over two hourse, nothin’ listed. Whaddaya tryin’ to pull?”

“Nothing. I…I had a little…distraction.”

“What the fuck does that mean? You brought in shit here! What the hell were ya doin’, jerkin’ off, for Chrissake?”

The idea of telling him the truth didn’t seem so hot any more. By that time I hardly believed it myself. I sighed, seeing my new job go out the window. “Never mind,” I said. “You wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

“Goddam right I wouldn’t! I know what you were doin’. Ridin’ around with the meter off, piling up all the fares for yourself. You think you can get away with that crap? With me?! And on your first fuckin’ day, too. Jesus!”

“I wasn’t,” I protested. “I just–”

“Hey, don’t shit me, kid, I can check the mileage. That what you want?”

“Check it.” I was beginning to get tired of his yelling. he was going to fire me, so I didn’t give a damn any more. “I wasn’t trying to grab any of your precious pennies. I had to leave the cab for a while, that’s all.”

He glared at me. I think he could tell I wasn’t lying, but he didn’t want to admit it. Finally he said skeptically, “Now why in the motherfuckin’ world would you do a thing like that?”

So I told him.

I didn’t intend to go into all the details, just to explain that a woman had taken me to her apartment, for whatever good that explanation might do. I mean, I did need the damn job and wanted to keep it if possible. But as I got into it, the whole story just started coming out, as though it was so weird that I just couldn’t keep it inside me.

He listened to me without saying anything, but his eyes widened and his jaw went slack–he actually stopped chewing his gum for a while. When I finished he shook his head. “Jesus H. Christ!” he said in amazement. “That is the biggest fuckin’ piece of bullshit I have ever heard!” Then he started to laugh. “Get outta here, kid,” he said. “You’re fired, but you oughta go on the radio or somethin’. You’d make a fuckin’ fortune!”

“But it’s true,” I said stubbornly. “And if you don’t believe me, I’ll give you the address and you can go there yourself. They said I could.”

He laughed again, louder. “Fuck that,” he chortled. “Let THEM come down here and see ME!”

“Maybe they will.”

He stopped laughing suddenly and leaned forward over his battered desk, pointing a finger at me and scowling again. “Don’t press your luck, kid. I’m lettin’ you off easy ’cause you at least made up a lie that was sexy, which is more than I get from most of these assholes. But you’re through here, so get the fuck out. Period!”

So I went. Period.


When I got home I was feeling lousy. I looked in the phone book to see if I could find Mrs. Harris’ number. There were several pages of Harrises, and I didn’t feel up to looking through them for the address, so I said the hell with it.

But that was before Patricia came home.

Home was a kind of tacky walk-up in what in better days was known as the East Village, and Patricia was my girl friend. We had met at N.Y.U.–she was studying psychology, and intended to go on to graduate school. Meanwhile she worked part-time and summers as a waitress to put herself through. She was smart and sensible, and damn nice looking, too. She was almost as tall as me, kind of slender but not too much. Long, very dark hair which she usually wore drawn away from her face, clipped behind her neck and then flowing down her back. Serious brown eyes, and a wide mouth which could be serious too but was more often smiling. We had been living together for six months, and we got along fine. We were friends as well as lovers, and I liked that.

“Hi,” she said, kissing me. “What’s wrong?” She could tell I wasn’t awash with joy.

“I got fired.”

“Ho ho ho,” she said. Then she saw I wasn’t kidding. “How come?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Oh.” She put her purse and stuff away, then came and settled down beside me. “Okay, tell me.”

I told her the story. I knew she wouldn’t make any silly fuss about my part in it. That was one reason I liked her so much–she knew what was important and what wasn’t. I didn’t have to hide anything and neither did she.

She listened in fascination. “My god!” she said. “That is really KINKY!”

But Patricia was not a girl to be bowled over for very long, and she immediately got down to practical matters. “So do it,” she said. “Call her–them–up and tell them. Maybe they CAN get your job back.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Pat…”

“It’s worth trying, right? And we need the money.”

“That’s for sure.” I felt better now anyway, so I went back to the phone book and started going through the Harrises. Soon enough I found the address, listed under B. Harris. THEN I remembered Mrs. Harris had called her husband Bernard.

I punched in the number–after I got up a little courage. I still could hardly believe I hadn’t dreamed up the whole afternoon.

“Hello.” It was Jessica. Clipped and cool.

“Hi. Uh–this is Mel Wulf.”

“Yes, Mr. Wulf?” Like I was a stranger. I felt like hanging up. But I took a breath and started to tell her what had happened with old Osindorf. I told it all, ending with what he had said about them coming to see him.

“Of course, he was just–I mean, he didn’t really believe me. About you. But if you…I mean you said–uh…” I was floundering like an idiot.

“One moment, please,” Jessica said.

She must have covered the receiver. I heard her muffled voice talking to someone, but I didn’t know which of the Harrises it was. Then she was back. “Mr. Wulf? If you will give me the address of the garage, Mrs. Harris and I will meet you there tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

I gave it to her, and she hung up before I could say anything else.

Over dinner, Pat pumped me for further details. As a budding psychologist, she was especially interested in the stuff she called “kinky.” Except she didn’t call it that when she remembered she was supposed to be scientific about it. From what I told her, she gave me a detailed psychological profile of Jennifer and both the Harrises, complete with childhood histories. I nodded a lot, but that kind of thing was not really up my alley. But then, my calculators and charts and computer spreadsheets didn’t do much to turn her on either.

We were still talking about it on and off when we went to bed. Lying beside me, Pat put her hand playfully over my crotch–neither of us ever wore anything to bed.

“It’s had a long day,” she said, patting my dick. “I guess the poor thing must be all tuckered out.”

I didn’t say anything. Actually I WAS feeling kind of worn out, but I also knew that Patricia could bring me to life again without too much trouble if she wanted to. But I didn’t know if she was really feeling sexy or if she just wanted to tease me a little. So I let her take the lead.

“Poor little thing,” she murmured, and now she took it in her hand, wrapping her fingers around its limpness. I felt the old blood stirring already.

She kneaded it very lightly with her fingers, twisting her hand a little. As she had known damn well it would, it started to grow and thicken as she held it. She pretended to be surprised. “Oh, my! It seems to be waking up a little.”

She began to stroke it then, gently and persuasively. I tried not to groan as her skillful fingers did their work. I just lay there and let it get longer and stiffer by the second.

“What a shame,” she said sweetly as her hand slid up and down, “that it’s had all the excercise it can possibly use for one day.” And then she brought her other hand over to help. Ten teasing fingers moved over my cock, which was just about as alert and erect as it could get. In spite of myself I could hear my breathing get louder. But still I didn’t move.

I thought I could tell by Pat’s voice, as she made a few more gently taunting comments, that she was getting kind of turned on herself. But she kept stroking and caressing me with loving sensuality. By now I felt as though I hadn’t screwed in a week. My prick was straining and jerking under her hands. My heart pounded. I kept myself from grabbing her with an effort.

Finally she stopped. “Okay, then,” she said. Her voice sounded a little throaty, but she was still going to have her fun. “I guess it’s no use. Some other time, maybe. Goodnight.” And she turned over onto her side, her back toward me, as if she were going to sleep.

I knew she was just waiting for me to jump her, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea. But I figured I’d give her a little of her own medicine. So I said, “Okay, goodnight,” and turned on my side too, lying there with my cock throbbing and pointing like a bird dog at her recumbent body, dimly white in the dark room.

It didn’t take long. After a few moments she slid herself slowly backward, until our bodies touched. She rolled her ass caressingly against my hard-on.

“Thought you were going to sleep,” I whispered.

“Bastard.” But her voice wasn’t angry. “I want you. Think you can fit me into your busy schedule?”

“I might be able to manage it.” My hand went down to find her cunt from behind. She drew in a breath. We wriggled ourselves into position. She drew her legs up in front of her and I guided my cock to her hole. We both gasped as I worked it inside her.

I slid my arms around her body and cupped her firm, shapely breasts. The nipples were hard under my palms. Patricia squirmed against me, and I began to move gently in and out of her.

“Ohh good,” she whsipered. “Oh Mel…”

She turned her head around and we kissed, a bit awkwardly in that position. But then her head went back and she began to moan softly.

I took one hand from her breast and slid it down over her smooth flesh until I felt the soft roughness of her pubic hair, and then the dampness at the top of her vaginal opening. My fingers searched for her clitoris and found it. She took in her breath with a sharp hiss, her body giving a little jerk against me.

I stroked the little button gently as I continued to slide my cock in and out of her from behind. Pat moaned louder, and I was panting slightly, although we were not fucking very hard. Her cunt was tight and warm around my prick. I caressed her breast, moving my fingers over the stiff nipple. I kissed the back of her neck, and she turned her head so I could nibble at her ear and stroke the inside of it with my tongue. I knew she liked that.

“Oooohh,” she crooned. “Oh Mel…do it….”

“I’m doing it,” I said. I began to move harder, clutching her quivering breast with one hand and stimulating her clitoral area with the other. She groaned and writhed, and as my thrusts got stronger, she began to push back against me, her ass twisting deliciously into my belly.

I could feel her breast heaving under my hand with her hard breathing. My breath was coming rapdily too, but though I was tingling all over with the beautiful sensations, I was in no hurry to finish. The events of the afternoon had blunted some of the urgency I might otherwise have felt. I had a quick mental flash of Jessica’s incredible body and voracious mouth, and of Mrs. Harris’ elegant nakedness, stretched and spread-eagled on her bed; but I pushed them out of my mind guiltily. The hell with that. I just wanted to go on screwing the lovely girl whose twisting, passionate body I was holding in my arms.

Pat turned her head again, her open, panting mouth searching for mine. We kissed, straining our necks to glue our lips together. But after a moment she pulled away with a dissatisfied whimper.

“Mel…” she moaned breathlessly. “I want to see you.”

I let her go, and I felt my cock being disengaged from her warm opening as her flesh broke contact with mine. She turned around to face me and came quickly back into my arms, pressing herself hard against me from shoulders to knees.I found her mouth with mine, and our eager tongues met, stroking together, then fighting a brief erotic duel which mine won as it plunged deeply into her gasping mouth.

I rolled her over onto her back, lying on top of her. She spread her legs, and in a moment I was inside her again. Our mouths separated, gulping air. I looked down at her. Her face was indistinct in the darkness, but I could see her eyes shining.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi, yourself.” I pushed all the way into her, further than I had been able to do from the rear, burying myself to the hilt in her moist, welcoming cunt. She gave a wordless cry and clutched at me. I felt her legs curl themselves around mine, and we began to move together.

We were fucking more intensely now, losing ourselves in sensation and need, working purposefully toward the climactic reward that now beckoned irresistibly to both of us. I lunged hard at her, and she arched up to meet my thrusts with writhing hips. Her nails dug into my back, and the pointing nipples that grazed my chest seemed almost as sharp. My panting became loud and hoarse, mingling with the rhythmic cries that came from her mouth.

I knew the signs of her climax. Her body started to tremble, and then to jerk, slightly and erratically at first, and then in hard, continuous, uncontrollable spasms. Her legs rose and thrashed in the air on either side of me, while her voice slid higher and higher up the scale until she gave a shrill, piercing shriek, bucking like a wild horse as she came.

Her orgasmic gyrations set me off too, and I exploded inside her, drenching her cunt with my sperm while she was still spinning in the whirlwind of her pleasure.

Later, lying beside me again, Pat murmured drowsily, “Three women in one day. How does it feel, stud?”

“It’s a living,” I said.

She gave me a Bronx cheer. Then she said, “Would you have liked it better if I had been tied down, like your rich taxi lady?”

“I liked it fine just the way it was,” I said.

“Me too,” Patricia said, and went to sleep.


Next morning I made it out to the garage, although in the light of day the whole thing seemed more preposterous than ever. So some rich broad who was horny and a little weird had picked me up–but why should she want to have any more to do with me, let alone do me favors? By the time I got there I was convinced that nobody from the Harris household was going to show up.

But I was wrong. There was a big black limousine parked across the street from the garage–no taxis for Mrs. Harris today. As I approached, Jessica got out on the driver’s side and walked around to open the door for her employer.

Jessica was not wearing her maid’s uniform this morning, which was just as well–she would have gotten arrested. She wore a plain, dark blue dress, which did its insufficient best to de-emphasize her amazing body. Mrs. Harris was wearing a pale yellow silk blouse and a brown skirt, and had a light tweedy kind of jacket draped over her shoulders.

She smiled as they crossed the street toward me. “Good morning, Mr. Wulf.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Harris.”

“So polite,” she said in that semi-mocking tone. “I think you may call me Emma by this time. Mayn’t he, Jessica?”

“Yes,” Jessica said. “But you will call him Mr. Wulf.”

“Of course,” Emma said. “And now let us go and remonstrate with this unpleasant boss of yours.”

I was feeling very mixed emotions about the whole business, but I tried to look calm and cool as I ushered them into the building, and then through the garage to Osindorf’s little walled-off office in the back. They got plenty of attention and a few whistles, from the drivers and mechanics hanging around, but neither of them paid any notice. When we reached the office door, I knocked.


I opened the door. Old Eddie saw me, and I thought he was going to swallow his gum.

“You back here again?” he yelled. “I told you–” He broke off as Emma walked through the door, followed by Jessica.

I closed the door behind us. “Uh–Mr. Osindorf, this is Mrs. Harris. And this is Jessica, her–uh–maid. You remember…I told you about them yesterday?”

“How do you do, Mr. Osindorf?” Emma said. Jessica said nothing. She went over to the one empty chair in the office and sat down, crossing her legs. The dress was modest even then, revealing her legs only from about the knee down, but just that was quite a sight in itself.

Osindorf gaped at the women stupidly. Then he said, “What the hell kind of gag is this?”

Emma smiled at him. “We are here to try to make amends, Mr. Osindorf. Mr. Wulf has told us that he lost his job because he spent some time at my apartment yesterday. I believe he told you about that in some detail. I feel bad about causing him to be fired. It’s understandable, of course, that you should resent the loss of revenue; but I was hoping that I could…somehow…make it up to you, and persuade you to re-hire him. Do you think I might, Mr. Osindorf?”

Osindorf stared at her. He looked at Jessica. He looked at me. Then he slumped back in his chair, shaking his head. “I don’t believe this,” he said hollowly. “I do not fuckin’ believe this!”

“Mr. Wulf,” Emma said. “Would you be so kind as to take my jacket, please?”

I was a little puzzled, but I stepped forward and removed the jacket from her shoulders. Then I saw why she had worn it draped around her that way.

Her wrists were fastened behind her back with a pair of silver handcuffs.

She walked up to Osindorf, whose mouth was open, and stood directly in front of his chair.

“Would you like to unbutton my blouse, Mr. Osindorf?” she said. “As you see, I am unable to do it myself.”

Osindorf just stared, as if he’d been struck dumb.

“Please,” Emma said. “Jessica will be most unhappy with me if I fail in my mission. And so will my husband–not to mention Mr. Wulf, of course. Besides…I would love to show you my breasts, Mr. Osindorf. I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing them. They’re not as large as Jessica’s, but they’re very pretty. Don’t you think so, Mr. Wulf?”

“Yes,” I said truthfully.

“And I’m not wearing a brassiere,” Emma went on. “You can confirm that by touching them, if you’d like.”

I could confirm it just be the sight of her hard, thrusting nipples poking against the silk blouse. I saw Osindorf swallow, and then he sort of nodded. He lifted a hand and put it over one of her breasts.

“You see?” Emma said. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed.

“Please open my blouse now.”

He reached for her buttons with both hands. He fumbled awkwardly with them, his big fingers clumsy on the tiny fastenings. But one by one he got them open, and then spread the blouse apart and pushed it back off her shoulders. It slid down her arms and hung from her tethered wrists.

“Do you like them?” Emma said.

Osindorf growled. He seemed to have come to life a little after his initial shock had worn off. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her between his legs, raising his head to put his mouth over her right breast. He drew it in deep, sucking on it with animal-like grunts.

Emma’s head fell back, her eyes closed as he sucked and bit greedily at her breast. Her breathing became audible. Osindorf switched to the left breast, mauling it even harder. She moaned, swaying slightly on her feet.

Without taking his mouth away, Osindorf pulled her skirt up around her thighs and groped beneath it with both hands. I got glimpses that showed me she wasn’t wearing panties either. As his hands moved higher, Emma spread her feet. Her eyes opened again, wide, and she gasped sharply.

“Ohh! Ohhh! Oh yes…oh…”

“Stop that!”

It was Jessica. Her clear, crisp voice cut through the room. Emma’s moans ceased abruptly, and Osindorf drew his head away from her breast, looking over in startled surprise at the seated blonde.

“You are not here to enjoy yourself, Madam,” Jessica said sternly.

“I…I’m sorry,” Emma whispered.

“Get down on your knees,” Jessica said.

Emma took a short step back, out of Osindorf’s grip. Then she knelt down in front of him, a little awkwardly because of her tethered hands. The brown skirt was not quite long enough to protect her knees from the dirty floor.

“Now,” Jessica said, “ask Mr. Osindorf if he would like you to pleasure him with your slutty mouth.”

Emma looked up at Eddie. He was breathing hard, and his face was red. I hoped he wasn’t going to have a heart attack or something.

“May I use my mouth on you, Mr. Osindorf?” Emma asked humbly.

He swallowed again. “Yeah,” he got out.

She nodded toward his fly, which was bulging noticeably. “It looks wonderful. If you would take it out for me, please?”

“Do it yourself,” Jessica snapped from her chair. “Use your teeth.”

“Of course,” Emma said. She bent forward, bringing her head to the front of his trousers. After a bit of maneuvering, she managed to get the tab of his zipper between her teeth; and then, with some difficulty, she tugged it down until his fly gaped open. She was panting a bit by the time she had accomplished this, but she immediately went on with her task, using her tongue to fish inside his trousers and work his cock out. Finally it was sticking up through the opening, hard and quivering. It was not particularly long, but it was very thick and mottled-looking.

Emma began to lick it. She used her busy tongue all over it, from base to tip, and she kissed and nibbled and nuzzled at it until Osindorf was squirming ponderously in his chair and breathing like a bellows. At last she opened her mouth as if about to take him inside–but then she paused and looked up at him.

“Mr. Osindorf,” she said sweetly, “you will give dear Mr. Wulf his job back, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” Eddie panted. “Yeah.” He glanced at me. “You’re hired, kid.”

“I’m so glad,” Emma said, and closed her mouth over his prick.

Having had the pleasure of that mouth myself, I had an idea of what he was feeling as she did her slow, sensuous sucking number on him. His head fell back and his eyes glazed over, and little hoarse groans began to issue from his open mouth. Emma’s head bobbed steadily and unhurriedly, her mouth stretched around the thickness of his prong, her lips sliding easily up and down the length of it, her tongue emerging occasionally to stroke the throbbing flesh.

Watching her kneeling there, half-naked, her hands fastened behind her, sucking on Osindorf’s dick, I was aware that my own cock had become stiff and was pushing hard at the front of my pants. I began to wonder whether Eddie was to be the only one to get the benefit of the Harris generosity this morning.

Finally, just as I thought Eddie was about to blow his stack, Jessica spoke up again. “That’s enough,” she said firmly.

Emma stopped sucking and raised her head. Osindorf groaned as if he was in pain.

“Get up,” Jessica ordered. “Lean over the desk and let him fuck you.”

Emma had some trouble getting up without the use of her hands, and I helped her. Jessica glared at me, but I didn’t care. She was a bit unsteady on her feet at first, but she stood in front of Osindorf and smiled at him while she used her fettered hands to remove her skirt, sliding it around until she could get at the button that held it at the waist, then fumbling it open. The skirt dropped around her feet, and she was naked except for her shoes. Osindorf made a rattling sound in his throat.

She turned around then, and stepped up to the front of his ancient wooden desk. She leaned over it, bending at the waist and spreading her legs wide for balance. The front edge of the desk was just below her hips. She bent all the way over, until the top part of her rested on the littered desk, her breasts flattened against its surface. Her ass jutted out and up. Her manacled hands rested on the small of her back. She made an incredibly sexy picture.

“I’m ready, Mr. Osindorf,” she said. “You may use whichever entrance you prefer.”

Osindorf was now making a weird noise in his throat every time he took a breath. I was really getting a little worried about him. But he managed to lift himself out of his chair and stand up. Licking his lips feverishly, he staggered toward the woman bent over his desk, his rigid cock jerking and oozing drops of moisture from the tip. I hoped he would prefer to use her cunt, because I thought she would have trouble taking that thick pole up her ass.

But not old Eddie. He bellied right up and grabbed her jutting buttocks with both hands, pulling them apart roughly and exposing her little puckered anus. It stretched a bit as he held her ass cheeks open, but it still seemed terribly small. Eddie made a noise like a sick elephant and moved closer, bringing the tip of his prick against that hole. Then he pushed.

I saw Emma Harris’ head rise from the desk, her face contorted in a grimace of pain. Her body tensed, and her trapped hands twisted and clawed at the air. An anguished moan came from her open mouth.

“Stop it,” I said before I could check myself. “You’re hurting her.”

I don’t think Osindorf even heard me, but Jessica gave me a look of contempt. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “She loves it. She eats it up. You should know that by now.”

And turning to look at Emma again, I had to concede that Jessica was right. There was more than anguish in her voice, more than pain on her face. There was pleasure, the same kind of masochistic pleasure she had displayed under Jessica’s treatment–and mine–the day before.

I kept quiet.

Osindorf was grunting and straining as he struggled to penetrate Emma’s asshole, and I was surprised to see that he had begun to succeed. The head of his cock was most of the way inside her. As I watched, he suddenly sank in another inch or so, and Emma cried out as her sphincter was breached. It roused Osindorf to greater effort; he rocked his body back and forth, each forward lunge crushing Emma’s hips against the edge of the desk and pushing his fat prong a little futher into her ass. Emma was gasping and groaning, her upper body twisting on the desk, her hands clutching frantically at nothing.

Eddie’s face was beet-red, and he was perspiring heavily. He snorted and wheezed as he continued to batter away at her. And then, suddenly, he was there; the last inch of his cock disappeared from sight, and he gave a cry of triumph.

Emma shrieked with pain and joy.

I was nervous about the noise being heard outside the office, and I edged over to the door to guard against anyone coming in to investigate. Then I saw that there was a little gizmo in the knob that you could turn to lock it, and I did, cursing myself for not having done it before.

Osindorf was now leaning over Emma’s back, panting harshly and exhaustedly. His weight ground her hips even harder into the edge of the desk, crushed her hands beneath him, and mashed her breasts cruelly against the desk top. And she was reveling in it, as well as in the sensation of his thick battering ram stretching her anal passage out of shape.

“Oh lovely…” she was moaning, gasping for breath between moans. “Lovely, Mr. Osindorf…lovely….” She twisted her ass, groaned with the pain the movement caused her, and twisted some more.

Osindorf shut his eyes and threw back his head. He was going to come. His hips jerked back and then forward in quick rabbit-like motions, barely enough to dislodge his cock from its total immersion in Emma’s asshole, but enough for his purposes. After three or four such movements, he gave a savage roar, rolling uncontrollably on top of her and trying to shove his cock even further up her tortured ass as he shot his load deep inside her.

I was still afraid he might have a stroke or something; he collapsed over Emma’s body, sucking in air with that terrible wheezing sound. He was sweating like a pig–his shirt was soaked through with it. But after a minute he pried himself up off the desk, pulled his shrunken dick out of her ass, and tottered backwards until he fell heavily into his chair.

Emma was panting and making whimpering noises. I didn’t think she had come. She made an effort to stand up, but her legs wouldn’t support her, and she slid down the front of the desk to the floor.

Now Jessica spoke up again. “All right,” she said in that clipped, chill voice. “As long as you’re down there, you can clean Mr. Osindorf off. With your mouth.”

“Hold it,” I said. I was getting pretty tired of Jessica and her orders, even though I knew Emma liked being ordered. But her goddam superior airs irritated me, and, as on the day before, I wanted to see her taken down a peg. And remembering the day before, I thought I could do it. Besides, my cock was stiff as a board, and I thought maybe I could get in on the action. So I said to Jessica, “Maybe he’d like YOU to clean him off.”

She gave me a how-dare-you look, her eyes blazing. “Please, Mr. Wulf,” she said coldly. “This is Mrs. Harris’ assignment. I am here to see that she does it properly. And since it’s for your benefit, I suggest you let her get on with it.”

Well, I figured I’d better use the same kind of tactics I had used before if I wanted to get the same results. I walked over to stand in front of her, looking stern. I thought of picking her up and shaking the hell out of her again, or slapping her face. But I wasn’t really mad enough. What I was, was horny. So I opened my fly and pulled out my prick, which stood high in the air, throbbing with eagerness.

“Suck on that, bitch,” I said.

“Really!” Jessica snapped. “How juvenile!”

Then I got mad.

Before she knew what was happening, I reached out, grabbed the back of her chair and pulled it out from under her, tossing it halfway across the room. With a startled cry, she fell to the floor, landing hard on her rump. I reached down and took hold of her long blonde hair, twisting it in my hand, pulling her head back sharply. She squalled with the pain, and her hands came up to try to pry mine loose. I twisted harder, forcing her head to roll back and forth, then held her steady, but pulled even more strongly on her hair. I stared down into her contorted face. If this didn’t work, I would have to give up–I wasn’t about to beat her or anything.

But then I saw what I was looking for. Her eyes changed, became softer. Her face seemed to melt. She lowered her arms. Her lips quivered slightly as she gazed up at me with the strange expression I recalled from the day before. Then she dropped her eyes.

“All right,” she said softly.

Still holding her hair, I stepped closer to her, thrusting my dick at her. Then I rolled my hips from side to side so that it rubbed back and forth over her face. “All right, what?” I said.

“I’ll do it,” Jessica breathed. “I’ll suck your cock.”

“Ask me nicely,” I said.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, sir, let me suck your cock.” She sounded really eager now. “Please,” she said again.

I let go of her hair now, and put my hands on my hips. “Do it,” I said.

She did it.

It was as good as the first time, if not better; her hungry mouth and lips and tongue set my head spinning, and I couldn’t take it for very long–I didn’t want to come yet.

I pulled away from her. “Get up.”

She got up.

“I don’t like that dress,” I said. “Take it off.”

There was a zipper running part way down the back of the dress. Jessica had to twist her body awkwardly in order to reach it and pull it down, but I didn’t help her. She lifted the lower part of the garment up around her hips, then crossed her hands and pulled the thing off over her head.

She wasn’t wearing underwear either.

Even though I thought I remembered it well, I was again stunned by the sight of her astonishing body, the large, solid breasts and the spectacular legs. I just stared at her for a moment, and then I heard Osindorf’s hoarse voice.

“Jesus!” he gasped.

I had almost forgotten him. He was staring at Jessica too, his eyes popping. I grinned at him.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” I said. “You want her?”

Eddie’s tongue ran over his dry lips as he kept his eyes glued to the naked blonde. But then he shook his head regretfully. “Hell, I couldn’t get it up again, kid,” he sighed. “Not this soon. Not even for that.”

“You never know,” I said. “Okay, Jessica, go clean him off, like you were going to make Mrs. Harris do.”

Jessica looked at me, hesitating. Then she said, “Yes, sir,” and walked over to Osindorf’s chair. Just watching that body in motion kept my prick achingly erect. She knelt down in front of him and took his limp, soiled, slimy cock between her fingers. Then she lowered her head and put it in her mouth.

“Oh, sweet fuckin’ Jesus!” Eddie groaned.

She did her job well, using her tongue like a wet mop and her mouth like a vacuum cleaner, sucking and licking his exhausted tool until it was cleaner than it had been originally, and shiny with her saliva. Eddie groaned and wheezed a great deal, but although his dick was no longer exactly limp, she was unable to work him into more than a kind of droopy semi-erection. Still, I kept her at it for a while longer before I told her to stop.

“Okay, Jessica. I’m going to fuck you now. Lie down.”

“On the floor?” she asked.

“That’s right.”

She made a face. “But it’s filthy!”

“Good,” I said. I was really enjoying this. “Lie down on it. Flat on your back.”

“Yes, sir,” she said again. She lay down on her back, with her hands under her head and her legs drawn up.

“Flat, I said. Stretch out.”

The luscious legs came down and stretched themselves along the floor, and her arms reached up over her head, pulling her buoyant breasts up to thrust even more boldly into the air. The nipples were hard and stiff.

“That’s good,” I said. “Now roll over.”

“You bastard,” Jessica whispered. But her eyes told me different. She rolled herself over onto her front.

I started to take off my clothes. There was dirt on Jessica’s back, but I didn’t give a damn about that. Even from the rear, her body was a wonder. Her position crushed her breasts beneath her, as much as those firm round melons could be crushed, and they bulged out at the sides of her chest. Her magnificent legs seemed to stretch halfway across the room, and the sweetly curving twin cheeks of her ass stuck up invitingly. It was an invitation I meant to accept.

Naked, I lowered myself down to her, spreading her legs apart to crouch between them. “All right, lady,” I told her. “I want to find out if your asshole is as flexible as your boss’.”

Actually, my dick was not as thick as Osindorf’s, though it was longer, and I didn’t expect to have much trouble plugging Jessica’s ass. I moistened my finger with saliva and then slid it into her anus to lubricate it a little. I could hear Jessica breathing hard as I wiggled it around inside her. My cock burned to take its place, so I got down to business.

There was a little difficulty at first, until Jessica could get her sphincter muscle to relax, but then she opened up and accepted my beautifully. Not that she wasn’t tight–she was tighter than a boa constrictor, and I could feel the walls of her anal passage clutching every centimeter of my invading cock. But she helped, straining to make my passage easier, humping her ass up at me. Whimpering noises came from her as I pressed inexorably on, and she writhed against the floor.

When I couldn’t go any further because every inch of me was buried in her snug rear entrance, I paused, panting slightly. I could feel the reflexive spasming of her muscles around my cock. She was moaning softly. Her hands were clenched into fists, and her legs made little jerking movements.

“Ohh…” she gasped. “Fuck me…fuck me hard…”

I began to fuck her, but not hard. I wanted to make it last, though my prick felt ready to burst at any second. I tried to move deliberately as I pumped in and out of her clutching hole. Her moans got louder, and she thrust back at me as well as she could in her prone position.

Once again I had been so distracted that I had just about forgotten there was anyone else in the room. But as I plugged away at Jessica, I gradually became aware of a new sound, a moaning which was not coming from either of us. Looking up, I saw that the sound was coming from Emma, who was still sitting on the floor near the desk. Her legs were pressed tightly together, and whe was rubbing them against each other, squirming in frustration as she watched us with rapt attention.

When she saw me looking at her, she smiled at me, her eyes half glazed. “I hope you can…save something for me, Mr. Wulf,” she murmured breathlessly, and I remembered that she had not come before. “If my hands were free…I could at least masturbate… but as it is…”

I stopped moving, with my prick deep in Jessica’s ass. She made a mewling sound. I had an idea.

“Jessica made you eat her out yesterday,” I said to Emma. “Has she ever done that to you?”

Emma’s eyes widened. She shook her head silently.

“She’s going to now,” I said. “Get over here.”

Jessica raised her head. “No!” she protested hoarsely. “I won’t!”

I grabbed her hair, as I had before, pulling hard. “Sure you will, Jessica.”

But she was stubborn now. “I don’t serve her that way,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “She serves me!”

I prodded he with my cock. “I can stop,” I said. “And fuck her instead. Is that what you want?”

There was a pause.

“No,” Jessica muttered finally.

“Come on, Emma.”

She scooted awkwardly across the floor, propelling herself with her legs. Her breasts bounced nicely. I told her what to do. She slid into position near Jessica’s head, facing us, with a leg on either side of our bodies. Then she lay back, drawing her knees up and spreading them wide. She scrunched herself forward until her open crotch gaped just under Jessica’s face. I shoved the blonde head down into it.

“Now eat it,” I ordered. “Eat it good.”

Jessica’s head began to make small movements. In a moment, Emma gasped loudly, and then started to utter shrill, wordless cries of joy. Her slim, provocative body, already forming a lovely arch because of her hands being pinioned beneath her, rose further off the floor as she pressed her eager cunt upwards against Jessica’s mouth.

Seeing that Jessica was obeying orders, I began again pumping my cock in and out of her asshole. I moved faster now, and I heard Jessica’s responsive noises, muffled in her employer’s cunt.

Soon I was panting with exertion, and with excitement too. My head was spinning. Jessica’s tight, grabbing asshole was claiming its due, and I knew I had to come soon. From the way Jessica was squirming beneath me, jerking her ass and gibbering against Emma’s crotch, I could tell she wasn’t far from climax herself.

As for Emma, she was going crazy. her body was rolling violently from side to side, heedless of her crushed arms, her breasts dancing wildly and erratically on her chest. Her head was rolling too, but in a completely different rhythm, as if it had no connection with the rest of her. Her mouth was wide open, and unearthly shrieks were coming from it, ceasing momentarily only when she gulped in air with great, noisy gasps. Her legs rose into the air and wound themselves around Jessica’s head, trapping it between the soft thighs and forcing her face harder against the twisting, jouncing cunt.

I don’t know who came first. The room was filled with female screams and cries, and I pounded savagely into Jessica as I felt the tightness gathering in my balls. I know that we all came within seconds of each other–Emma bucking and flopping like a gaffed fish; Jessica sobbing in painful ecstasy and slapping her belly against the floor as her ass went mad beneath me; and me, snorting like a demented bull and thrusting with all my strength again and again, and finally exploding like a cannon in her spasming asshole.

Then we all collapsed, gasping and quivering and groaning incoherently, in a exhausted tangle of limbs and bodies.

“Jesus H. fuckin’ Christ!” I heard Osindorf say.


We were all dressed again, and ready to leave, I thought. I had my hand on the doorknob, when Jessica stopped me.

“One moment, please, Mr. Wulf.” There was no trace in her voice or her manner of the moaning, submissive woman who had been writhing on the floor a few moments ago. Nor was there in Emma, except, of course, that her wrists were still handcuffed behind her.

Jessica said, “We have one other thing to discuss with Mr. Osindorf. You may recall the plan we were speaking of yesterday with Mr. Harris.” She then went on very calmly to outline to Eddie that crazy idea about having Emma tied down in his garage for a whole day, letting all the men have their way with her. Emma listened quietly and impassively, but there was a glitter in the depths of her eyes.

I couldn’t believe they were serious about this, and neither could Eddie. He listened with his mouth open. When Jessica stopped, he just stared at her. I think he was a little shell-shocked with everything that had happened to him that morning.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?!” he said at last. “Jesus, that is the most unbelievable fuckin’ thing I ever–what the hellsa matter with you? You know what kinda trouble I could get in? Christ, a thing like that–it’d be all over the place in a minute! I’d get put away–and you too! Holy shit! You gotta be out of your fuckin’–”

“Mr. Osindorf,” Jessica interrupted. “You have no need to worry. Mr. Harris is very wealthy and very influential. He will arrange everything. Security will be seen to. No harm will come to you. It may even be beneficial. In labor relations, for example; few employers can provide their men with such fringe benefits.”

It was the first time I’d seen any signs of Jessica having a sense of humor. But it was lost on Eddie. “No!” he yelled. “Christ, the kid’s got his job back, what the hell else you want from me! Lemme alone, for Chrissake. Of all the crazy, weirdo things I ever heard…” He subsided into mumbling and shaking his head.

Emma spoke up. “My husband will be happy to pay you for the use of your garage, Mr. Osindorf–and for any inconvenience.”

Eddie goggled at her. “You WANNA do this??”

Emma lowered her eyes. “My husband would like it,” she said demurely.

Osindorf growled. Then he said: “How much?”

“As Jessica said, he is very wealthy. Name a fee. Make it as exorbitant as you like. He will pay it.”

There was a glitter in Eddie’s eyes, much like the one I had seen in Emma’s–though his was put there by greed rather than lust–and I knew the Harrises would have their way.


They brought Emma in very early in the morning, several days later.

I had been kind of expecting it, because on the day befor a team of workmen had come around and affixed four heavy metal rings into the concrete foor at one end of the garage, near the area where the mechanics worked on the cars. The rings formed a large rectangle. There had been a lot of curiosity about what they were for, but Osindorf wouldn’t answer any questions. I suspected, of course, but nobody asked me.

The reason for the early hour was that Mr. Harris wanted his wife to be available to as many men as possible. By arriving so early, he would be able to get the men coming off the night shift, as well as the day men coming on. Later in the day there would be a third shift. He wanted to cover them all.

Of course there were part-timers too, as well as others coming in and out all during the day. Plus the people who were there all the time–dispatchers, mechanics, clerks, maintenance people, etc. I tried to figure up the number of men to be found in that garage at some time or other during the course of one day, and couldn’t do it–it had to be a couple of hundred, at least.

There were a couple dozen of us waiting around when they brought Emma in. She was flanked by her husband on her right and Jessica on her left. Behind them were two men, both very neatly dressed in suits and ties, but both very large and tough-looking. As soon as they came through the door, Jessica took the jacket from Emma’s shoulders, and I saw that once again her hands were held behind her by the silver cuffs on her wrists. She was wearing a very plain beige dress.

Of course none of the guys there–except me–knew what was going on. The noise in the room had lessened as the men turned toward the unusual sight of two women entering the garage; and when Emma’s shackled arms were revealed, there was a sudden astonished silence.

Harris and Jessica, followed by the two men, led Emma over to one end of the garage, near where the metal rings were set into the floor. There they stopped, and turned to face the wondering audience. Harris took a step forward, smiling slightly at the various degrees of shock and puzzlement on the faces before him.

“Gentlemen,” he said, and then paused as if waiting for their attention, although he already had it. His high, clear voice and calm though pompous manner gave the impression that he was used to making speeches. He went on: “You–and your fellow workers–are the recipients today of a rather…I think one can say, unusual…diversion. I am sure most of you will find it highly gratifying as well as entertaining. Allow me to say immediately that it would not have been possible without the interest and cooperation of your esteemed employer, Mr. Edward Osindorf.”

He stopped again, as if expecting applause. There wasn’t any.

“This young lady,” he continued, nodding toward Emma, “is my wife. She is going to spend the day here, with you. She will be available to all of you. You may do what you like with her.”

This time he got his reaction. There was dead silence for another moment, and then an astonished murmur swept through the crowd, growing into a buzz as the men asked each other if he was really saying what he seemed to be saying.

Harris smiled again. “Jessica,” he murmured. “Proceed, please.”

Jessica stepped up to Emma, who had been standing there expressionlessly as her husband spoke. The blonde took a tiny key from her pocket and used it to unlock Emma’s handcuffs, which she handed to one of the large men. She then proceeded methodically to undress her.

The crowd–which was growing as more men came in for their shift–again fell deeply quiet as she opened the buttons down the front of Emma’s dress, then slipped it off her body.

This time she was wearing a bra and panties. I could hear guys drawing in their breath sharply, and little whispered exclamations as Emma’s smooth, elegantly curved body was revealed.

Jessica opened the catch of her bra and took it off her.

Now the buzz rose again, louder than before. There were moaning sounds and soft whistles. Guys were staring with their mouths open, or unconsciously licking their lips. Some of them looked around at the others as if to make sure they were seeing the same thing. But nobody moved.

Emma’s nipples stiffened as we watched.

Now Jessica crouched gracefully to remove her employer’s panties, sliding them down over her hips and along her shapely legs. Emma stepped out of them. She was naked.

“Jesus,” somebody said softly.

Harris turned to the two men who had come with them. “All right, gentlemen.”

The two big guys produced ropes from their pockets. They tied one to each of Emma’s wrists and each of her ankles. Just behind where she was standing there were two old tires lying on the floor, in the center of the area defined by the metal rings. They laid her down on her back on top of them. She made no resistance. Then they tied the other ends of the ropes to the rings in the floor, pulling them tight so that her arms and legs were widely spread, and her body stretched taut. Spread-eagled like that, she looked as she had when I had seen her tied to the bed, legs pulled far apart, arms reaching in different directions above her head–except that with her torso supported by the tires, the legs and arms were stretched in a slight downward slant, and her head lay back over the edge of one of the tires, her brown hair touching the floor. She looked like a pagan sacrifice. It was about the most erotic sight I had ever seen.

The crowd was stirred by it too, though they seemed uncertain as to how to react to this far-out scene. More guys kept coming in and stopping short in amazement when they saw what was going on. You can bet nobody was leaving, though.

Then Harris stepped forward again. “As I said, gentlemen, the lady is yours for the day. You may do with her as you wish, and as often as you wish–short of inflicting serious injury, or of attempting to release her. These two gentlemen”–indicating the big guys–“will remain to see that these limitations are observed. There will also be two men stationed outside, to allow only authorized personnel to come in here. It will be to your advantage, I assure you, to keep to yourself what is occurring here today. And now, I must leave you for the present. My colleagues here will start things off, in order to break the ice, as it were.” He looked down at his naked and spread-eagled wife. “Goodbye, my dear. Have a nice day.”

And he left, with Jessica following him out.

As soon as they were gone, the two guys with the suits started to undress. They did it without haste, being careful to put their clothes where they wouldn’t get soiled. They gave the impression that it was all part of their work–they were just following orders.

Gradually the crowd of men began to gather more closely around the area where Emma lay. At first just a few stepped closer, and then more, and in a minute they were all crowding around, jostling each other to get a better view. I was there too. The feeling of tension was terrific, and it kept the men unnaturally quiet; but the excitement was building by the minute. You could almost smell it.

When the two guys were undressed–with their twin hard-ons showing that they weren’t as emotionless as they appeared–one of them lowered himself to the floor between Emma’s outstretched legs. With businesslike directness, he guided his stiff cock to the soft, spread-open lips of her cunt. With one push he was inside her.

A collective gasp went up from the watchers, and above it I could hear the soft cry that came from Emma’s throat, and then a louder one as the man thrust again, ramming himself all the way home. Then he began to fuck her, hard and steady, with unvarying, piston-like strokes. Soon Emma was moaning regularly.

The crowd was like a pan of water about to come to a boil. They were seething and bubbling, but still had not erupted. There was lots of heavy breathing, and some remarks were made, but in near-whispers, as if a loud noise would break the spell. “Christ!” I heard somebody say. “She likes it! She really likes it!”

Now the other big guy knelt down above Emma’s head, facing his partner. He crouched forward, bringing his prick to her open mouth. She took it in immediately. Again there was a loud intake of breath from the crowd.

The second guy now began to fuck her face in this upside-down manner. His rhythm was slower than his partner’s, and he had less control over his feelings. His breathing became audible and his eyes seemed to glaze over as he slid his cock almost tenderly in and out of her mouth. Emma was still moaning, although the rigid pole never left her lips.

The first man continued his steady pumping; he seemed tireless and impassive. Emma’s body writhed in its bonds under the implacable stroking of his thick cock. Her head rolled slightly, bringing a groan from the man who was slowly but thoroughly screwing her mouth. His movements now speeded up a little. Soon his face was twisting with passion, and his body hunched tightly over her head to allow him to get even more of himself into her sucking mouth.

The watching crowd strained forward eagerly, sensing that he was about to come. He was panting as he humped her face still harder. His body jerked repeatedly. And then, with a strange rattling sound, he climaxed, shooting his load into her mouth. Emma’s throat worked as she tried to swallow it; but some of it overflowed, and a small trickle of sperm appeared at the corner of her lips and slid slowly down over her cheek.

An indefinable noise, half sigh, half growl, rose from the circle of men. The guy who had just come rose from the bound woman and, again assuming his wooden expression, reached for his clothes. The other one was still fucking away with the same machine-like persistence at the lovely outspread body.

And then Emma came.

A long, keening wail of ecstasy rose from her throat, and the ropes cut into the flesh of her wrists and ankles as her spasming body tried to surge against its bonds. The cry trailed off into a series of abandoned whimpers; her head rolled wildly, her hips bucking upwards to meet the rhythmic thrusts of the man above her.

Her climax finally set the crowd off. It was as though they had tasted blood. A sudden roar broke out from the many watchers, and they crowded forward with eager faces to be in a position to get in on the action. A few started to take off their clothes, and one or two brief arguments erupted as to who was to go first. They hardly noticed when the big guy finally allowed himself to come inside Emma’s cunt. But when he pulled out of her and got up, one of the guys who had gotten undressed pushed forward and dropped himself on top of her. The rest of the crowd cheered him on.

As he started to pump himself into her, another man rushed up and knelt by her face. This one hadn’t bothered to take his clothes off. He just unzipped his fly, pulled out his prick and stuck it into Emma’s mouth.

That was the beginning.

It went on for twelve hours.

Of course I didn’t stay there all that time; I watched for a while, but then I had to take my cab out. But during the day, whenever I was around the area, I checked back in to see what was going on. There was never a letup. Always there was at least one man on top of her, more often two–and sometimes three, or even more. Guys were coming in and going out of there all day long, and I don’t think there were more than a few who didn’t want to take a turn at her. Lots of them went back for seconds, thirds–I don’t know what the record was. It was a continuous process. Guys were lined up for their turns, and as soon as one was through with her cunt or her mouth, another took his place.

Some of them undressed, wholly or partially, but most didn’t. Some didn’t wait for a turn at one of her openings, or else just ignored them, rubbing their cocks between her breasts or over her legs, or whatever they could reach. A few preferred just to jerk off while standing over her, watching someone else fuck her.

Emma came repeatedly, especially at the beginning. Later there were long periods when she didn’t seem to respond much–though she never said a word of complaint, never asked for a rest–but then she would come back and go into another series of climaxes.

Before long, her beautiful body was covered with dirt, sweat and semen. Sperm dripped from her snatch and ran from her mouth to cover her face. The guys simply took the hose that was attached to the water pump, used for washing the cars, and hosed her down, running the strong stream of water over her body from head to toe. They continued to do this whenever she got too messy. The floor beneath her became extremely wet, but nobody seemed to care. The wetness of her taut body somehow only added to the eroticism of the picture, despite the fact that her hair hung down in lank, dripping tendrils. But whether that spread-eagled body was wet or dry, clean or soiled with sperm and filth, it was still so powerfully, compellingly sexy that I was strongly tempted to take a turn at her myself. But I didn’t. I figured I’d had mine, under better circumstances.

When I came to the end of my shift late that afternoon it was still going on. But by then her husband had returned. He was watching closely as the two latest guys screwed his tethered wife, and he came up with one of his benign little smiles when she went into an obviously exhausted but unmistakeable climax.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself, my dear,” he murmured. “I think you will be able to go on for another few hours yet. Would you like that, Emma?”

Emma didn’t answer. Her mouth was full of cock. But when it was free she said–they were the first words I had heard from her all day–“Yes, Bernard.”

Her voice was tired and hoarse and barely audible, but there was no doubt of her sincerity. Her face shone like an angel’s.

“Of course,” Harris said. “My only regret is that in your present position the men are limited to only two of your voracious orifices. However, perhaps after a while we can turn you over, and remedy the situation.”

I’d had enough by then. I checked out and went home.


Patricia stared at me wide-eyed when I told her. “My god!” she said. “You mean

it’s still going on?!”


“It’s fantastic,” she said. She thought about it, and shook her head. “It’s unbelievable.” She got up and walked around the room. She looked out the window. “I can’t…I mean…” She stopped, and turned to look at me. Then she said: “I want to see.”


“I want to see it,” she repeated. “Take me. Come on.”

“Wait a minute! What do you–what for?”

“I’m interested, for god’s sakes. How often do you get a chance to see a thing like that? Come on, let’s go.”

“Listen, I don’t…I mean, I don’t even know if they’d let you in there, even with me. Besides–”

“Please, Mel. Let’s go. Please.”

So we went.

As it happened, Harris was just coming out of the garage as we got there. He saw us. “Ah, Mr. Wulf,” he said to me. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. I can’t say I blame you. Emma makes a charming whore, doesn’t she? And who is this lovely young lady?”

I introduced them. “She wants to see,” I told him.

“But of course. Why not?” And he ushered us back inside, past the two guys still guarding the door.

Pat gasped out loud when she saw Emma. They had not yet turned her over. They were hosing her down yet again when we came in. In a moment another man was covering her. We stood where we could see clearly without drawing much attention to ourselves. I wasn’t sure how the men would react to another female at this point. I had noticed that Harris had not brought Jessica back with him.

Pat watched with very wide eyes, never moving her gaze from the scene. But after about ten minutes she said, “All right. That’s enough.”

I said goodbye to Harris and took her out of there.

She was very quiet on the way home. But once inside the door, she turned to me. “Jesus, Mel. I want you.”

“Yeah.” I reached for her.

We didn’t even get to the bedroom. We made it right there on the floor, and it was fantastic. Later, when we went to bed, we made it again.

Several times.


A couple of nights later, we had a visitor.

When the door bell rang, I figured it was one of our acquaintances from the neighborhood, since nobody else generally came around unexpectedly. I pushed the buzzer to open the downstairs door–we once had a two-way speaker, but that was broken–and then went out in the hall to see who it was.

Our apartment was three flights up, so I had to wait while he climbed the stairs. It took him a while. When I saw him, I nearly fell over. It was old Mr. Harris.

He was dressed in his usual somber three-piece business suit, and carried an expensive-looking attache case. He gave he his creepy smile as he mounted the last flight of steps.

“Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Mr. Wulf,” he said a little breathlessly. “But at my age all these stairs become a bit formidable. I do hope I’m not intruding.”

I shrugged, not knowing what to say. “No. Come on in.”

“Thank you.” Having arrived at the top of the stairs, he entered the apartment. I could see that Pat was at least as surprised to see him as I was.

“Ah,” he sighed. “The lovely Patricia. So nice to see you again, my dear. I must apologize for arriving unannounced in this manner. I am glad I found you in. May I sit down?”

“Please do,” Pat said. She offered him something to drink–not that we had much–and he accepted a glass of wine.

He then proceeded to make small talk, while I wondered what the hell he was doing there. Finally I asked him what we could do for him.

He sipped his wine. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Well. Not to beat around the bush, so to speak–the fact is, I was much charmed–much charmed indeed–upon meeting your lovely young lady the other night.”

“Well, thank you,” Pat said.

He smiled at her. “Not at all, my dear.” He turned back to me. “I found her most attractive,” he said. “Extremely so, in fact.”

“I think so too,” I said, wondering what this was all about.

Harris sipped some more wine. “The vision of Patricia has, in fact, been in my mind ever since,” he went on in the same calm voice. “And I have come to the conclusion that I would very much like to make love to her.”

I stared at him, too dumfounded to say anything at first. Pat was staring, too. He seemed completely unaware of our reactions.

“And since you have had the pleasure of making love to my dear wife, Emma–a pleasure since shared by most of your co-workers, of course, but none the less valuable for that–I thought perhaps we could arrange an exchange of favors…a quid pro quo, so to–”

I was on my feet. “Get the hell out of here,” I said.

He held up a hand at me. “Please. There is no need for belligerence. I am merely offering a suggestion–”

“The suggestion stinks,” I said, taking a step toward him. “Now beat it!”

But he didn’t move. “Perhaps,” he said, in the same calm tone, “we should ask the lady’s opinion.”

I was ready to grab him and throw him down the stairs, but Pat stopped me. “Mel, wait!”

I looked at her. She had recovered from her initial surprise, and I could see that, though she was angry too, she had herself under better control than I did. Maybe she was even a little amused by the horny old bastard.

She turned to him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harris,” she said evenly. “Thank you anyway, but I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

He smiled at her. “I understand, my dear, of course. I am well aware that I am lacking those attributes of youth and physical attractiveness which make Mr. Wulf so desirable to women. However, I had not finished outlining my suggestion when your young man’s impetuosity got the better of him.”

“Look–” I began.

“Please,” Harris said. “Allow me to continue. It can do neither of you any harm to listen. If, when I have finished, you wish me to leave, I assure you I will do so without troubling you further.”

I looked at Pat. She shrugged, as if to say, humor him. I sat down, fuming.

“Thank you, my dear. It’s really very simple. To compensate for my…natural shortcomings, I propose to offer you something else.”

“And what might that be?” Pat asked coolly.

“Money,” Harris said.

Now Pat was really angry. I could see a little red spot high on each cheek. “No, thank you,” she said, her voice icy but trembling a little. “Now if you’ve quite finished…”

“Not quite,” Harris said. “I have not yet mentioned the sum I am prepared to offer.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Pat said. “I don’t sleep with people for money, and certainly not you. Please leave now.”

“You heard her,” I said, starting to get up again.

“Shall we say,” Harris murmured, “ten thousand dollars?”

I stared at him again. For a minute I was speechless. Then I had to laugh, more out of amazement than anything else. “Jesus,” I said, shaking my head. “You really do go after what you want, don’t you? But the answer is no. You can’t just buy up everything you like, for Christ sake. Now if you don’t get the hell out of here–”

He ignored me. “Patricia?” he said.

I turned to look at her. She looked stunned. The red spots had disappeared, and if anything she seemed pale. She was gazing at Harris, but I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Tell him to screw off,” I said.

She looked at me, her face still blank, then looked back at him. Her mouth opened, then closed. She swallowed.

“Ten thousand dollars?” she whispered.

There was a glitter in Harris’ eyes which I didn’t like a bit. “In cash,” he said softly. He indicated the attache case, on the floor by his feet. “I have it right here.”

“Come on, Pat,” I said roughly. “Tell him to go fuck himself.”

She looked at me again. “I…Mel…” she breathed. “Ten thousand dollars!”

I was getting nervous. “So what?” I almost yelled. “For god’s sake, you’re not considering this?!”

Her eyes dropped. “I–I don’t know…”


“Ten thousand dollars,” she repeated. “My god, Mel, we… Think what that means,” she said, looking back up at me. “I could finish school on that. We both could.”

“No, goddamit! What’s the matter with you?”

She gazed at me for another moment, then turned back to Harris.

“What…what would I have to do?” she whispered.

Harris shrugged very slightly. “Nothing very extraordinary,” he said. His manner was as unruffled as ever, but the glitter was still in his eyes. “As I said, I would like to make love to you. Or perhaps I should more accurately say, WITH you. At my age, I prefer not to expend too much unnecessary energy. I would, therefore, take the bottom position–putting you in the more… active role.” He took a sip of his wine. “Once is all I ask,” he went on. “Here and now. After that, you are under no further obligation.”

I was up and ready to throw him out again. “Mel, no!” Pat said swiftly.

I turned to her. “Forget it!” I shouted. “You’re out of your mind for even thinking of such a thing! Now I’m throwing him the hell out of here, and that’s it!”

She came close to me, holding on to my arm and looking up at me. Her eyes were pleading, defiant and uncertain all at once. “Mel, listen. It’s only once. That’s all. And all that money…It wouldn’t mean anything, Mel, it’s only–”

I pulled away from her. “Are you crazy?! Jesus, I don’t believe this! You can’t just…Christ, you can’t…”

She flared up at me. “Why not? Why the hell not? You made it with his wife, didn’t you? AND that maid or whatever she is. So why shouldn’t I? What’s the difference?”

“The difference is, at least I was turned on!” I yelled. “But you’re not attracted to this old fart! You’d just be doing it for the money. And you know what that would make you!”

She stared at me, her face white, her mouth open. Then she turned away. After a moment she said in a very low voice: “I want that money. I’m going to do it.”

My knees felt weak. I sat down. “I don’t believe you,” I said hoarsely.

“I’m going to do it,” she repeated. Then: “Go away, Mel. Go out for a while. Come back later.”

“The hell I will,” I said. “I’m staying right here!”

“Mel, please. Go away.”

“No way,” I said stubbornly. “Anything you want to do, you do it right here. In front of me. I’m staying.”

“We’ll go in the bedroom, then,” Pat said. Her voice was unsteady.

“I’ll go in there too,” I said.

Pat looked at Harris. He gave his little shrug again. “I don’t mind,” he said. “In fact, I rather like the idea. It adds to the titillation, having the boy friend watch.”

I wanted to kill him. But I sat there. There was a long silence. Then Pat said, “I want the money.”

Harris reached for the attache case, put it on his lap and opened it. It was filled with little packets of bills. Hundred-dollar bills. Around each packet was a piece of paper with “$1,000” printed on it. Harris counted out ten of the packets, closed the case, put it down, then rose and walked over to a table on one side of the room and put the money down on it.

He then began to take off his clothes.

He undressed very methodically, putting his clothing fastidiously over an empty chair. His body was skinny and pale, and his cock looked shriveled. Naked, he walked back to the couch and sat down. He kept his glasses on.

“Very well, my dear,” he said softly. “Undress, please.”

I saw Pat swallow hard, and for a long moment she didn’t move. She was wearing a loose brown pullover blouse over a pair of green slacks. She stood facing the couch on which Harris was sitting, but she didn’t look at him. Or at me either.

Finally, with a jerky movement, her hands went to the hem of the blouse. Lips tight, she pulled it up over her head. She had on a white bra underneath it.

I felt a little sick as I saw old Harris’ eyes gleam at the sight of the smooth, sensuous flesh with which I was so familiar. I was to feel a lot sicker.

Patricia dropped the blouse on the chair she had been sitting in. Still not looking at either of us, she began to undo the slacks. She got them open and pushed them down. She kicked off her shoes so she could step out of them. She didn’t bother to pick them up.

Pat had fine legs, and their delicious beauty struck me anew as I saw them now through Harris’ lecherous eyes. I felt my hands tightening into fists, and I made a deliberate effort to relax. If this was what she wanted…

Standing in just bra and panties, Pat hesitated again. I thought–I hoped–she was not going to be able to go through with it. But then she brought her hands behind her and unhooked the brassiere.

And took it off.

My stomach turned over as I watched Harris’ glittering old eyes devour her naked breasts. They were larger than his wife’s breasts, though not as big as Jessica’s. But they were beautifully proportioned, rounded and firm, with lovely deep-red nipples. Harris made a soft sighing sound.

Patricia took off her panties.

“Lovely,” Harris murmured, after a short pause. “Lovely, indeed.” His cock was not shriveled any more. It was standing up, white and not especially big, but definitely capable. After gazing at Pat’s nakedness for another moment, he lay down on his back on the couch. “Very well, my dear,” he said.

Pat walked toward him. I didn’t want to watch any more. But I did.

She got onto the couch and knelt above him, straddling his body. She stiffened slightly as he raised one hand to her breast, but did not pull away. The hand cupped the breast and stayed there, stroking it and squeezing it softly.

With a pale but determined face, she lowered herself slowly to make contact with his straining prick, reaching down to adjust it at the entrance to her vagina. I could tell she wasn’t ready to take it; but with a kind of grim purposefulness she forced the tip of it inside her, and then began to work herself down over it.

Harris’ eyes closed, a blissful expression coming over his face as Pat took him inside her, inch by inch. She had to wiggle around and move her hips up and down a little to accomplish the penetration, which obviously added to his pleasure.

At last she had taken it all in. She paused for only a moment, her breath ragged, and then with the same dogged purpose she began to screw him, raising and lowering her body with a steady, mechanical motion.

The old man gave a moan of delight and opened his eyes again, watching her as she rose and fell on his cock. His hand dropped from her breast and lay, with sickening possessiveness, on the smooth flesh of her thigh as it pumped up and down.

“Beautiful,” he breathed. Then: “Just a bit faster, please.”

Pat moved faster. Her face was white and expressionless. Her breasts bounced with her movements. She began to pant a little from her exertions. A drop of sweat rolled down her side.

It went on for what seemed like a very long time. Pat worked steadily, doggedly away. Harris was obviously enjoying himself, but showed no signs of coming.

Finally he spoke. “You’re wonderful, my dear,” he said, a little hoarsely. “Just lovely. I would like nothing better than to draw this out indefinitely. But I must not take advantage. I would like to ask one thing more, however. To cap this truly memorable experience, I would appreciate it immensely if you would finish me off, so to speak…with your mouth.”

My hands clenched into fists again, and I could feel the blood pounding in my head.

Pat stopped moving. For the first time, she looked directly into the old man’s face. There was anger in her eyes.

“No,” she said, her voice breathless but firm. “That wasn’t part of the bargain.”

“I realize that,” Harris said. “I will add another ten thousand dollars.”

For a long moment Pat didn’t move. There was a silence in the room.

And then she raised her body, letting his penis slide out of her. She swung herself off him and stood up by the side of the couch. Then she knelt down on the floor. She never looked at me. She bent over him and took his cock into her mouth.

Harris gasped sharply. Pat’s head began to move.

She sucked him mechanically, her mouth sliding up and down on his prick as if her head was being manipulated by a puppet master. It was a far cry from the loving, sweetly erotic way in which she had often performed this act on me. But somehow that didn’t make me feel much better.

It didn’t seem to bother Harris, though. His gasps and moans got steadily louder, and his body began to squirm on the couch. It was clear he wasn’t going to last much longer. Pat kept dutifully on, her lips clasped tightly around the appearing and disappearing phallus, never varying the tempo of her bobbing head.

At last Harris’ hips arched, and a loud cry tore from his throat as he came, exploding over and over into her mouth. His climax was surprisingly protracted. I saw Pat swallow involuntarily, and a trickle of white sperm dripped out of the corner of her mouth and ran down her chin. Then he subsided, panting harshly.

Pat rose to her feet, wiping at her mouth. I saw that there were tears in her eyes. Without a word or a glance, she went out of the room. I heard her go into the bathroom and close the door.

Harris sat up slowly. My head was spinning. I felt completely drained of strength, as if I would never be able to move again. And at the same time, I felt that if the son of a bitch said one word to me, I would jump on him and kill him with my bare hands.

Maybe he felt that, because he glanced at me and started to say something, but then changed his mind. He got up, a little heavily, and then went to where his clothes were and began to dress, not hurriedly but not taking his time either. When he had tied his necktie and put on his vest and jacket, he picked up the attache case again and opened it. he counted out another ten thousand, and put it on the table beside the first.

He turned to me then and again started to say something, but again thought better of it. With one of his little half-shrugs, he went to the door, opened it and went out, closing it behind him. I heard him going down the stairs.

I still didn’t move. I could hear Pat brushing her teeth in the bathroom, and then I heard the shower going. It went on for a long time. Finally it stopped, and after a minute Pat came out. She had on her blue terry-cloth robe and slippers, and her hair was damp.

As she came in she glanced at me, then swiftly looked away. She was nervous. She went to the table where the money was piled and looked down at it without touching it.

“Wow!” she said, with false brightness. “We’re rich!”

I didn’t say anything.

With strangely awkward movments, she gathered up her discarded clothes and took them into the bedroom, then came back and sat down. I watched her. Finally she took a deep breath and met my eyes.

“All right, come on, Mel,” she said then. “Let’s not make a big thing out of it, okay? I mean, it’s done and it’s over and we’ve got a lot of money. So let’s just forget about it now.”

“Just like that?” I said bitterly.

She got up and came over to me, kneeling down by my chair. “Please, Mel. Don’t be angry. Please. What good does it do? It’s over.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said in a low voice. “All right, I made it with a guy for money. Does that make me a whore? Does it?”

“What would you say?” I said.

She looked up at me, her eyes bruised. “All right. I’m a whore. Now what? What do you want me to do? Do you want to punch me? Hit me? Would that make you feel better?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. If you want to know the truth, right now I feel like beating the shit out of you.”

She looked at me for another moment. “Then do it,” she said flatly.

I didn’t move.

“I mean it,” she said. Her voice was strange. “I’m a whore and I should be punished. Punish me.”

There was something in her eyes I’d never seen before. I wasn’t sure what it was. I wasn’t sure what the strange thing I was feeling was, either.

“Stand up,” I said.

She stood up.

I reached for the belt of her robe and untied it, then pulled it out of the loops and held it in my hands. The robe opened down the front. Pat didn’t move.

“Take that off,” I said.

She slid the robe off and dropped it to the floor, standing naked before me.

“Turn around.”

She obeyed.

“Put your hands behind you.”

She did so, and I wrapped the soft belt around her wrists and tied them together. She made a tiny sound in her throat as I fastened the knot.

“Come here.” I took her arm and turned her around, then pulled her down over my lap like a naughty child. She lay across my thighs, her legs stretched out on one side, her head hanging down on the other, with her hair dangling to the floor. Her firm, rounded ass thrust up at me.

I hit it with my hand as hard as I could.

I heard her cry out in pain, and then I hit her again. And again. And again.

I couldn’t stop hitting her. She cried and yelled. She howled and sobbed. She squirmed and wriggled on my lap, her body jerking with each blow, her bound hands struggling and clawing at the air.

But she never asked me to stop.

When I did stop, finally, it was only because my hand was stinging like hell and my arm felt as though it was about to fall off. I was panting–but only partly because I was winded. I let her go, and she wiggled off my lap and fell to the floor.

She landed on her bruised rump, which made her scream and sent her rolling over onto her stomach. I looked at her lying there, her body squirming with pain, sobbing into the carpet, her ass red and sore, her hands still tied behind her–and suddenly there was a red mist in front of my eyes, and my head felt like it was about to explode. And my cock was trying to burst through my pants like a wild animal.

I practically ripped my pants getting them open and pushing them and my shorts down to my ankles. I didn’t have time for anything else. I fell on top of her prone body, and without conscious thought I got my hands on her battered buttocks and pulled at them, spreading them wide apart and exposing her crinkled asshole. My cock found its way there as if with a mind of its own, and my brain belatedly flashed on the fact that I had to fuck her now in a place where Harris had not been.

She cried out with fresh pain as I forced my raging prick into the tightly resisting hole. I had taken her this way before, but only with much preparation, using vaseline and taking it slow. This was different.

She yelled again when I breached her sphincter muscle. Fury and a dark joy pounded through me and I pushed on, plowing more deeply into her clutching rear tunnel. “Take it, whore,” I heard myself saying in a savage tone. “Take it up the ass!”

And then I heard Pat’s voice, distorted with pain. “Yes!” she sobbed. “Yes, Mel! Do it! Do it to me!”

I fucked her then, fucked her harder and more brutally than I had ever done before, pounding into her mercilessly stretched anal passage, my hips slapping sharply and rhythmically against her abused ass cheeks. She still squalled and sobbed, and her body writhed and squirmed beneath me. I felt the twisting of her bound hands against my stomach. But as I continued to batter at her, feeling all my rage and lust boiling up toward the inevitable explosion, her hips began to rise and fall in a jerky rhythm, matching themselves to my thrusts. Her agonized cries took on a new quality, and I knew it had gotten to her and that she was on her way, too.

I moved faster and harder then, some perverse fury in me wanting to deny her her climax, to achieve mine and leave her unfulfilled. But the more savagely I fucked her, the more she seemed to respond. Her squalling turned into a series of broken wails, getting higher and higher in pitch as her body arched and bucked under me.

As I felt myself approaching the giddy point of no return, I wedged my hands beneath her to grab her breasts, squeezing them as hard as I could. At the same time, I let my weight drop completely onto her, crushing the breath out of her. But at the moment I felt myself burst open, I also felt her body spasming wildly, flopping disjointedly beneath my weight as she gasped out her orgasm, her asshole tightening spastically on my cock as it shot my fury-filled load deep into her rectum.

I may have blacked out for a second; I’m not sure how long it was before I rolled off her and lay motionless on my back on the carpet, panting and sweating but feeling completely numb, completely void, unable to think, and not wanting to. I was dimly aware of Pat sobbing softly, but after a while she stopped.

Finally, and almost reluctantly, I began to come back to myself. I sat up. Pat was still lying there, and I saw almost with shock that her hands were still tied. I reached for the cloth belt to untie it.

“Don’t,” Pat said.

I looked at her, almost afraid to meet her eyes. Her face looked different, somehow. Softer. And her eyes were looking back at me with an expression of…well, the word I thought of was adoration.

I didn’t know what to say to her. “Don’t you want me to untie you?” I asked stupidly.

She shook her head. “Lie down,” she said softly.

I did so. I was still feeling a bit unreal. After a moment Pat slid herself over to me, lying on her side next to me, and for a brief minute she nuzzled her head against my shoulder. Then I felt her lips on me, kissing my chest. She nibbled teasingly at my nipple through the cloth of my shirt, and then she shifted herself and her mouth moved down my body.

Her lips and tongue slid over my bare stomach, and I felt the soft caress of her hair on my flesh. Then she was crouched over my crotch, the long dark hair tickling my loins.

“Pat…” I began, but before I could say anything more she had taken my limp, soiled penis into her mouth. In its present state she could easily take it all, and she did, holding it gently between her lips and closing her mouth around it, softly, wetly, warmly.

I gasped as I felt her begin to stroke it with her tongue, licking up and down the underside, slowly and lovingly. Then she ran her tongue all around it, as though deliberately licking off the sticky residue of our recent fuck.

I had thought there was no way I could get hard again, but I felt definite tingles in my cock–and the rest of my body–as Patricia went on, and soon I was aware that I was growing steadily inside her mouth. Before long I was almost fully erect, and Pat gave a little sigh of satisfaction and began to slide her soft lips up and down my stiffening prick.

I raised myself on my elbows and watched her. It gave me a jolt I hadn’t expected, to see this lovely young girl sucking me in such a slavish manner, with her hands tied behind her. It made my cock quickly stiffen the rest of the way, until it was as hard as before.

Pat raised her eyes to mine, and kept them on me while she continued to suck. My mouth went dry.

After a minute she released me, but kept her mouth near my cock, her lips moving against it as she spoke.

“Do you like me this way?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” I rasped.

“Good.” Her tongue came out and licked my prick. I shivered. “Will you fuck me again?” she said.

I had to swallow. “Yeah.”

She went back to sucking me for a minute, then stopped again. “How will you do it?” she said. I felt her breath on my cock.

“I don’t care,” I said. “I just want you.”

“Will you tie me up?”

“Jesus,” I said. “You ARE tied up.”

“Not like this. More.”

“What do you mean?”

There was a pause. She kissed my prick. “Like her,” she whispered.

“Who?” I said, although I knew who she meant.

“Emma,” she breathed. “Tie me like that. Hand and foot. Stretched out. Spread open. Just like Emma.”


I used some of my old neckties and some of her stockings. Luckily, our double bed had an old-fashioned barred headboard and footboard. I spread-eagled her in the center of it and tied her that way, stretching her arms and legs tightly.

She was unbelievably beautiful.

I took off the rest of my clothes. I stepped to the side of the bed, looking down at her. Her face was ecstatic. She was breathing rapidly. The nipples of her slightly flattened but still full breasts were hard and stiff. I sat down on the side of the bed and put my hand over one of them. She moaned.

Then, as she had before, she asked, “Do you like me this way?”

“God!” I said.

“Then take me, Mel. Please take me.”

Christ knows I wanted to. But I said, “Pat…what are we doing?…”

“I don’t know,” she said. “You’re punishing me.”

I shook my head. “I’m not angry now.”

“But you’re excited. You like this.”


“Then who cares? Take me.”

“I don’t know what we’re getting–”

“Oh please, Mel. Please. Do you want me to suck you again?”


“Listen,” she said quickly. “Think about Harris. Think about how I made it with him.”

“Cut it out,” I said roughly.

“Think about how I sucked his cock. I sucked him off and he came in my mouth and I–”

“Damn you!”

“Yes. Do you want to hit me again?”


“Yes, you do. Go ahead. Beat me. I’m a whore, and I fucked old Harris until he told me to stop, and I went down–”

I jumped up with a cry of rage. The first thing I saw was the terry-cloth belt I had tied her hands with before. I had thrown it on a chair, and now I picked it up and, without thinking, doubled it over, holding the two ends in my hand.

I turned on her. She was watching me with wide eyes–a little frightened, but eager. Eager.

“You bitch,” I rasped out. “You want this!”

“Yes,” she moaned. “Do it. Do it!”

I swung the belt and brought it down on her stomach.

The belt was soft and wide, and I didn’t swing it with all my strength; but still it made a solid whacking sound against her flesh, and it must have hurt. She groaned loudly and her body jerked with the blow.

And she said: “More.”

I did it again. Harder.

After the fourth one, she started to cry. But she didn’t want me to stop. And by then I didn’t want to.

The eighth one landed across her breasts, making her scream. After that I dropped the belt and fell on top of her. I was inside her with one thrust.

Her cunt was soaking wet, but still tight, beautifully tight. Her tautly stretched body writhed and rippled beneath me like a tethered snake. I plunged strongly in and out of her, and her squirming hips moved with me as well as they could. I mashed my mouth down on hers and she met it eagerly, moaning against my lips, her tongue pushing into my mouth and exploring it with wild abandon. We were still kissing when I sensed her starting to climax. I kept my mouth on hers and moved harder. Her body strained against the bonds that held her wrists and ankles. She tried to move her mouth away, but I wouldn’t let her. I wanted to feel her orgasm coming from her mouth. I brought my hands to her hair and held her so that she couldn’t move her head, kissing her deeply while fucking more deeply inside her, urging her on. The series of sounds, growing higher and higher in pitch, which always heralded her coming, were going from her throat directly into mine, until at last she screamed into my mouth and erupted.

I released her head then. I hadn’t come. I waited until she had recovered somewhat, and then started moving again. I went more slowly now, relishing the erotic helplessness of the soft, tightly stretched body beneath me. I didn’t understand what was happening to us, but I didn’t really care any more. It seemed to turn us both on, more strongly than ever before. Still, part of me worried. Where would it take us?

“Mel,” Pat moaned in my ear. “Oh, Mel…I love you….”

“I love you too,” I answered, thrusting at her.

“Oh…oh…oh Jesus GOD!” she cried, and spiraled into orgasm again.

It had never happened so quickly for her before, or so close together. I watched her straining at the bonds, saw them cutting into the flesh of her wrists, felt the muscles tensing in her thighs. It made my head throb and brought me nearly to the brink of climax.

But when she relaxed a little, I said, “Do you want me to untie you?”

She shook her head. “No,” she breathed. “No. I want you to keep me like this. All night long.”

And then I came.


Some time in the middle of the night, I woke up. She was moaning softly. In the darkness I could see only the dim outline of her spread and tethered body beside me. My legs were lying over one of her legs, my head near her outstretched arm. I could feel the muscles in her leg quivering and jerking irregularly.

I decided to untie her now, whether she liked it or not. But I didn’t move. I lay there, aware of the strained and trembling flesh, listening to the sounds she was making.

My cock was hard as a rock.

After a minute I rolled over on top of her and fucked her again.

She came three times before I did.

After that I untied her finally, and we slept.


In the morning she woke me with her mouth on my prick. I almost came before I was fully awake, but when I realized what was happening, I held myself back. I pushed myself up to look at her.

“Jesus Christ!” I said.

She was lying across the bed with her head in my crotch. And her legs were tied together. She had taken the things I had tied her to the bed with, and had trussed her ankles together with a necktie, and tied stockings like ropes around her calves, her knees, and her thighs. She had tied them tightly, too; I could see the flesh bulging around them as they cut into her.

She took her mouth away just enough to speak, though her hand kept stroking my cock. “Mel,” she said breathlessly. “I love being tied up. I love it. I want you to keep me tied all the time. Please.”

My stomach did a flip. I tried to make a joke of it. “It might be difficult when you’re working,” I said.

She wriggled herself around until she was lying beside me, on her stomach. She put her hands behind her back, wrists crossed. Tie my hands, Mel,” she pleaded. “Now. Please.”

I hesitated. Not for long. I found another necktie and bound her wrists together.

She started to breathe rapidly. “Oh god…” she whimpered. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I can’t do anything. Oh Jesus, Mel. Do something to me. Do something dirty to me.”

I rolled her over on her back, her tethered hands beneath her. Her nipples were stiff little spikes set into her lovely, heaving breasts. My cock was still very hard.

“You didn’t finish sucking me,” I said. “I want to fuck your face now.”

“Oh yes…” she panted. “Yes….” Her mouth opened, a waiting receptacle for my lust-maddened prong.

I clambered over her and lowered my crotch to her face, feeding myself into her welcoming mouth. Her lips closed over me and I began to move back and forth, slowly. She panted through her nostrils, and little moans and whimpers came from deep in her throat as I fucked her beautiful mouth.

With each stroke I fed myself a little further in, until she started to gag a little. I let up then, but she made a protesting noise around my prick, and her tongue stroked it in a way that seemed to be urging me on. So I continued, paying no more attention to her gagging, and after a while her throat relaxed and she was able to take me in all the way.

I could have come any time, but I deliberately kept up a slow, easy rhythm, not wanting this to end. I was lost now, I knew. I loved this. I loved having this power over her. I loved having her naked and helpless, bound hand and foot and painfully, servilely sucking my marauding cock. I loved it as much as she did.

“Bitch,” I said hoarsely, pumping into her.

“Mmm,” she moaned around my flesh, assenting.

“Whore. Cocksucker. Cunt.”



“Aahh…Mmmm…Ummm…” She writhed in her bonds, sucking and moaning, the breath whistling in her nostrils.

I thought of something. “You know,” I panted, “when I fucked Emma, I came on her tits. Did I tell you that?”

“Mm…” she said.

“What I want to do now…is come in your face. All over your face. Would you like that, Patricia? Little whore? Hmm?”

“Ummm…” She nodded her head, her eyes wide. Her body twisted wildly.

“Then suck me off,” I rasped, speeding up my thrusts. “Suck that load out of me so I can splash it all over your pretty face. Suck!” I plunged strongly now, raping her mouth, going deeply into her throat, and she tightened her lips around me, groaning and swirling her tongue over my lunging tool.

When I knew I was ready to come, I reached down and grabbed her hair with one hand to keep her head still, and just as I was about to shoot, I pulled out of her mouth, holding my prick with my other hand and aiming it right between her eyes. The stuff shot out and splattered into her face. I shot again and again, hitting her cheeks, her eyes, her mouth. The thick white sperm ran down the sides of her face and into her hair. When I was finished, I shook the last sticky drops onto her nose, and then stuck my now-limp prick back into her mouth and let her suck it clean.

“Oh, dear god,” Pat panted as I rose from her. “That was… incredible…Oh Mel….”

“You look great with my come all over your face,” I told her.

“Oh…I want to see….Let me see….”

I got her hand mirror from the dressing table and held it in front of her so she could see her face. She gasped. “Oh yes! Oh…oh god…ohh….”

She was squirming and trying to rub her tethered legs together. I put my hand on her leg and then forced my fingers between her tight-pressed thighs, wiggling them up toward her cunt. As soon as I touched her clitoris, she climaxed, her bound body madly bucking and flopping about on the bed.

Then I left her there and went in to take a shower.

It was Sunday and neither of us had to go to work, so I took my time. When I came back, she was lying on her side, looking as though she was hurting, and enjoying it. “Your turn,” I said. “You could use a shower too.”

“No,” she moaned. “I want to stay like this.”

“Tough,” I said, and began to untie her legs. But I left her hands tied behind her. She got off the bed and walked with me into the bathroom. There was a special quality about the way she walked with her hands tied like that, a kind of servile grace, that was powerfully erotic. I felt a charge in my blood, but my cock felt as though it was used up for the week.

I helped her into the bathtub and turned on the shower for her, then got in with her and soaped her body all over. We had often taken showers together, but never like this. I scrubbed her down and then let her rinse off. Then I kissed her. She pressed herself into me and squirmed her wet, naked body against mine.

I pulled away and stepped out of the tub. “What you need is a cold shower,” I said. I reached for the faucets and turned the hot water off, at the same time increasing the cold. She shrieked as the icy spray hit her full-blast. She turned her back on it and tried to step out of range, but I followed her with the moveable shower head.

“Oh god!” she screamed. “It’s cold!” She turned again and tried awkwardly to get out of the tub, but instead fell to her knees on the rubber mat. I kept the water trained on her. Shrieking and blubbering, she slid onto her side and then lay full-length on the bottom of the bathtub, thrashing helplessly as I played the ice-cold water over the length of her body. She maneuvered herself frantically onto her stomach, and then onto her back, her legs kicking wildly, her arms straining futilely at the cloth that bound her wrists as she rolled over and over in a desperate effort to find relief from the tormenting stream.

At last I turned the water off, and she lay still, shivering and sobbing against the white tile. I reached down and pulled her up, then helped her out of the tub. I got a large bath towel and started to dry her off.

“Bastard,” she gasped when she could speak. But her eyes were shining.

I finished drying her and took her back to the bedroom, arms still tied. She was worked up again, but I was still petered out, and hungry. “I’m going to have to untie you now,” I said. “I want some breakfast.”

“Fuck me first,” she pleaded.

“Christ, I can’t any more right now.”

“Yes you can,” she said. She went on her knees in front of me and lowered her head.

Yes I could.


“Okay,” I said after a few minutes, falling back on the bed. “But you ride me this time.”

She got herself up and clambered awkwardly onto the bed, straddling my hips. I held my now-erect dick upright so that she could take it inside her. She lowered herself over it with a quick hissing intake of breath, and moaned softly as she sank down until she had impaled herself with it completely.

Her thighs worked as she began to pump herself up and down. Her breasts, which appeared particularly prominent and defenseless because of her pulled-back arms, bounced and jiggled alluringly. I raised my hands to cover those shapely globes, squeezing them a little. Then I took the hard, outthrust nipples between my fingers and thumbs and twiddled them. Pat groaned. I pinched them harder and twisted a little.

Her head fell back and her mouth opened, gasping; the tempo of her movements increased. I twisted the nipples a little further, and her body writhed sensuously, while the gasps were interspersed with hoarse little cries. I let up on the twisting, but kept her nipples firmly in my fingers. She was moving steadily and intensely, working herself rapidly to climax. But although I was enjoying the hell out of what she was doing, with all the previous activity I wasn’t about to come for a while.

When I felt her at the brink, I gave another hard twist to her nipples, and that did it. With a yell, she exploded around my cock. I still held on to her.

“Mel,” she gasped then. “Oh god, Mel…”

“Move,” I commanded.

“Yes.” She started pumping me again. Soon she was panting. “Mel…”


“Call me names again…please….”

“I’ll call you names when I feel like it,” I said.

“Yes, Mel,” she breathed, sounding disappointed. But she didn’t stop moving. I twisted her nipples to keep her happy. And me happy. “Aahh!” she cried blissfully. Then: “Mel…”

“You talk too much,” I said.

“Tell me things…you’d like to do to me. Dirty things… hurting…tell me….”

Christ. “For one thing, I’m likely to twist your nipples off,” I said, demonstrating.

“Yes!! Oh god!…What else?”

My head swam. “I’ll make you lick my ass,” I said.

“Yes.” She moved harder.

“I’ll tie you down and piss on you.”

“Oh…Oh Jesus….”

I was getting carried away. “I’ll hang you from the ceiling and beat you all over with a bullwhip.”

She was moaning and her eyes were glazed. “More…” she panted. “More….”

“I’ll make you go out on the street naked. I’ll keep you tied up in public, so everyone will see you’re my slave. I’ll make you suck my cock in restaurants. I’ll make you fuck with strange men….”

I was babbling, saying whatever came into my head, but it was driving Patricia crazy. The last one got her, though. She almost stopped moving, and her eyes burned with a weird, unholy light into mine.

“You…you’d give me to other men?” she whispered hoarsely.

I couldn’t tell whether the idea excited or disgusted her. I wasn’t sure about me, either. But I said, “Sure. Why not? You’re a whore, aren’t you?”

She nodded slowly, and then faster, the nod blending with the jerking movements of her orgasm as she came again, harder than before.

And this time I came with her.


Pat finally made us some breakfast, but not until we had figured a way to let her move around without being entirely free of the bondage she was so crazy about. I rummaged around and found some real rope, took a length about two feet long and tied one end of it around each of her wrists, so she had about a foot or so of play between them. This way she could manage to do necessary things like cooking and eating, although with some difficulty and a great deal of awkwardness. I did the same thing with her ankles, which allowed her to get around, but made her take short, hobbling steps. It was interesting to watch.

Generally I helped her with the cleaning up, but not today. She worked, I watched. While she was washing the dishes, my eye fell on the spatula she had used while cooking the eggs, and which she was rinsing off at the moment. It was an ordinary metal spatula with a wooden handle.

“I read a book once in which a girl was beaten with one of those things,” I said.

Pat stopped what she was doing. Her face seemed to slacken. She swallowed, and her eyes closed for a second.

“Where?” she breathed.

“Her ass. And the backs of her thighs.”

Her nipples stiffened as I watched. Her tongue came out to moisten her dry lips. After a second she turned the water off. Then, still holding the spatula, she came over to where I was standing and held it out to me.

I took it slowly. My own mouth was dry. Experimentally, I swung it in a brief arc through the air. It made a wicked whistling sound. A tiny whimper came from Patricia’s throat.

“Do it,” she whispered.

I wavered. But I said, “No. Not now.”

“Oh god. When?”

“I don’t know. Later. Maybe.”


“Later. When you’ve done something to deserve it,” I said.

“I’ll do anything you want, Mel. Anything.”

“I have to think. I have to think about a lot of things. Finish the dishes.”

I left her there and went into the living room. I wanted to think about what was happening to us, to try to be rational about it. But I couldn’t. All I could think about was Pat. I kept seeing images of her, tied up in different positions, suffering and helpless. I kept hearing the haorse, gasping noises she had made after she had been painfully spread-eagled for hours on our bed. I became hard again, thinking about it. How could I love her and still be excited by her suffering? And yet it excited her too. Were we both crazy?

And would we go on this way? Or try to stop? COULD we stop?

Did we want to?

I didn’t have any of the answers; all I had was a hard-on. I walked restlessly around the room. The twenty thousand dollars was still on the table where Harris had left it. It was stupid to leave it there. But it was Sunday, there were no banks open. I got a small carton and packed the money in it and hid it away in a closet. I thought maybe that activity would cool me off. But it didn’t. So I went in and fucked her on the kitchen floor.


At six o’clock that evening we were watching television. Pat was tied into her chair, with a rope wrapped several times around her waist and the chair’s back. her forearms were lashed to the arms of the chair, and her ankles to its legs.

She had spent most of the day naked and tied up in one position or another, and loving every minute of it. I loved it too, of course, though I was kind of worn out from doing all the tying and untying–as well as from fucking her.

The TV program was lousy, and I got up in disgust and turned it off. “What’s for dinner?” I said.

“I don’t know,” Pat said. “There’s nothing in the house, really. I was going to go to the store, but…” She shrugged, making her breasts wobble.

“They’ll be closed by now on Sunday,” I said. “We could go out, I guess. We can afford it now.”

“I don’t want to,” she said.

“Neither do I. How about calling up Armando’s and having a pizza sent over?”


I made the call. Then I untied her. “Better get dressed,” I said. “We don’t want the poor delivery man to have a…” I trailed off.

I think the thought hit both of us at the same time. We looked at each other. Her eyes widened, and without a word, she knew what had come into my mind, and I into hers. For a long time we just stared at each other. Her face flushed slightly, and her lips quivered. I felt my heart beat faster.

“Go get dressed,” I said at last.

She went, and I sat down in my chair, my head swimming. In a minute she was back, dressed in a blouse and skirt. I had gotten dressed earlier.

She sat down and I felt her looking at me again, but I didn’t look back. After a minute, she spoke.

“Do you think it will be that little fat one with the bad teeth?” Her voice was soft, and just slightly uneven.

“Probably.” I looked at her then. “He usually makes the deliveries.”

She nodded. There was silence for quite a while. Then she said, even more softly. “I’ll do anything you want, Mel.”

I sat there, trying to think and not to think at the same time. And after a while the buzzer sounded.

I got up to push the button. Then I turned to look at her again. She watched me, her mouth parted slightly. Her breathing was a little fast.

“All right,” I said then. “Take your clothes off.”

After a tiny second, she stood up slowly. “Yes, Mel,” she whispered, and stripped out of the skirt and blouse. Though I had been seeing her naked all day, she looked more naked than she ever had before. And I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

And I sat down. “You answer the door,” I said. “Just like that.”

“Yes, Mel,” she got out again. Her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing, and her color was high. I could tell what she was feeling. Exquisite shame, and exquisite excitement at being shamed.

There was a knock.

Patricia swallowed hard, and went to the door and opened it.

I could see the doorway from where I sat. The delivery man nearly dropped the box he was carrying. His eyes widened to an immense degree, and his mouth fell open. He started to say something, but couldn’t get it out. The startled eyes ran swiftly down over the naked body, then rose to her face, and then, as if pulled by a magnet, dropped to her body again.

Pat stood aside for him to come in. He did so with an almost comic mixture of eagerness and furtiveness, taking his eyes off her for a second to glance around. He looked startled in a different way when he saw me. He was indeed the man Pat had referred to. I didn’t know his name, but he was about forty, I guessed, shortish with a pot belly and a missing tooth in front. And not overly bright.

“You can put that on the table,” I told him.

“What? Oh. Oh, yeah.” He placed the pizza box on the little table, looked at Pat, gulped, looked away. “It’s–uh–eight sixty-five.” His voice was hoarse.

I took out my wallet and gave him a ten. “Keep it.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated, then fumbled for the door, his eyes on Pat again, taking what he probably thought was his last look at heaven.

“Just a minute,” I said.

“Yeah?” He was apprehensive.

“I notice you’ve been looking at my girl,” I said.

“Oh. Well…I…Jesus, man!” he burst out. “She’s naked!”

“So she is. Do you like her?”

He risked another swift glance. “Yeah.”

“She is pretty, isn’t she? Would you like to make love to her?”

He stared at me, unbelieving. “What?”

I made it clearer. “Would you like to fuck her?”

“Jesus. Are you kidding?”

“No. You can if you want to. Can’t he, Patricia?”

Patricia took a breath and said, “Yes.”

“You heard the lady. Go ahead.”

He made a kind of rattling noise in his throat, looked at Pat, looked at me, and did nothing.

“Pat, he’s shy. Help him. Give him a good sexy kiss.”

She looked at me for a second, that mixture of shame and need burning out of her eyes. I heard a tiny sound come out of her, as if some final barrier had been broken deep inside her. Then she proceeded to do exactly what I had told her. She stepped up to the astonished man, placed her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth, plastering her naked body tightly against him.

“That’s it,” I said. “Get him all worked up, so he can stick his dick inside you.” My voice sounded strange to me, coming from somewhere I didn’t know.

The man was making muffled grunting sounds as Pat kissed him. Her breasts bulged out at the sides, so tightly were they mashed against his chest, and her hips writhed slightly, grinding her loins into his crotch. I saw her mouth working, and I knew that her tongue was in his mouth. She was not holding back.

“What a sweet little whore you are,” I said softly. I knew Pat heard me, but I doubt if the guy did. He was too busy being driven crazy by what she was doing. His hands came up finally to grab her ass, pulling her even harder against him.

“Okay,” I said then. “We don’t want him to come before he has a chance at your cunt, do we?”

Pat broke away from him. He gasped and trembled, but he wasn’t hesitating any more. With frantic haste, he began to pull off his clothes.

“Lie down, Pat,” I said. “On the floor. Spread your legs for him.”

She lowered herself to the floor and lay flat on her back. As the man slid out of his dingy white shorts, her legs opened and spread wide, revealing her cunt to his eager eyes. She turned her head to look at me, her eyes aflame with the knowledge of the picture she made, naked and spread for a drooling stranger, deliberately debasing herself while her lover watched.

I looked straight into her eyes and said, “Whore.”

“Your whore,” she whispered back.

I had never loved her so much.

By now the guy, with an inarticulate cry, had gone down on his knees between her legs and was lowering himself toward her body, pawing at her breasts and trying to get his cock in the right place at the same time. His cock was surprisingly long, and i could see the veins in it, pulsing.

“Put him in, Patricia,” I said.

And she reached down, found the blindly questing prick, and guided it to her exposed hole. Then she put it inside her.

He groaned and fell on top of her, his hips pumping. Obviously his sexual technique was not exactly subtle. He flailed away wildly, thrusting into her with no particular rhythm, grunting and gasping. I could see he wasn’t going to take long. his hands clutched blindly at whatever part of her body he could find, and his open, panting mouth slobbered over her face.

“Kiss him, Pat,” I said.

She obeyed, her arms encircling him and her mouth finding his.

“Now really fuck him,” I told her. “Make it good for him.”

Her body began to move. She arched and twisted underneath him, and his noises got louder. Then she raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist, locking her ankles behind his back. She pumped herself back at him, quickly setting a regular tempo which took the place of his random thrusts. He held on and let her set the pace, blissfully riding her bucking, squirming body. She continued kissing him until he broke away to gasp for air.

He was on the verge of coming now. I wanted it to go on, wanted to degrade her further. “He’s going to shoot his load up your twat,” I said. “Encourage him.”

Pat worked her hips faster, twisted harder beneath the groaning man, and spoke into his ear. “Come,” she panted. “Come into me….Shoot it up my cunt….Do it now….Come inside me…. Give it to me….Shoot…Now….Now….”

He gave a roar like a sick lion, and shot into her.

He collapsed on top of her. She lay there, not attempting to move. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing hard. My cock was stiff as a board, and my mouth was dry. I wanted her.

But I also wanted to go on debasing her.

After a minute, the guy gave another groan and rolled off her. He lay on his back, twitching a little, too exhausted or just too dazed to get up. Pat sat up slowly. I saw faint bruises on her body where the man’s fingers had clutched her too tightly. Her discarded blouse was lying nearby, and she reached out for it.

“Not yet,” I said.

Her hand froze. She looked at me.

I said, “Clean him off.”

Her eyes widened slightly. She looked at the man lying beside her, then back at me. She knew how I wanted her to clean him off. her eyes held on mine for a long moment.

“Yes, Mel,” she said.

She got onto her knees, then crouched down onto her elbows so she could reach his crotch. She gave me another quick look, then put her head down and found his cock with her mouth.

The guy jerked as if he’d been shot.

“Lick it,” I told her. “All over. His balls too.”

Pat obeyed. Her tongue covered every centimeter of the limp tool, washing away the stickiness of their combined secretions, and then went to work on the wrinkled sac beneath it. I was willing to bet it didn’t smell very good, or taste good either.

The guy had raised himself on his elbows in astonishment, and now fell back again. “Oh my god,” he said weakly. “Holy shit. She’s making me hard again!”

“Good,” I said. “Then she can suck it for you. She’s a great cocksucker. Aren’t you, Patricia?”

She raised her head. “I…Yes, Mel,” she said.

“Show him.”

She put her mouth over his cock.

“Jesus!” he groaned.

“Suck it nice, now,” I said, watching her. “Do it real good and give him–what’s your name anyway?”

“Harry,” he said. “Oh, Christ!”

“Well, Harry, Patricia here is going to suck you till your eyes fall out. She’ll make you come all over again. We’ll keep her at it until you do. You can come right into her pretty little mouth, and she’ll drink it all down like it was honey.”

I was talking to him but I was watching her. He was fully erect now, or nearly, and her mouth was stuffed with his cock. I watched her lips moving up and down over it, her head bobbing slowly. The sight drove me out of my mind with lust. I suddenly remembered that only twenty-four hours ago I had watched her do this with another man, and had thought my world was ending. It seemed like a different century.

Of course, the way she was sucking now was nothing like the mechanical way she had performed with Harris. She was obeying orders and making it as good for him as she could. He was making strange noises again and beginning to pant. I was breathing a bit heavily myself. My head was pulsing. I wanted to get an even closer look. I got out of my chair and went over to where they were, then crouched down on the other side of Harry’s body, watching, watching.

“Look at me, Pat,” I breathed.

She raised her eyes to mine and kept them there while she went on sucking.

I wanted to jump on her and fuck her in every hole she had.

“You sweet little slut,” I said softly. “You degraded little cunt.”

Pat made a whimpering noise around Harry’s prick.

“Look at you, groveling on your knees with some strange guy’s cock in your mouth. You’re as bad as Emma. You’d like to be raped by two hundred guys at once, too. Wouldn’t you, Patricia?”

She moaned. And kept sucking.

“You’re a slut and a slave. Go on, suck him. Harder. Take him all the way in. You can do it. Take it down your throat.”

She was jamming her mouth down as far as she could on Harry’s prick, but was having trouble getting it all in. She tried harder, gagging a little.

“Do it! Take it all. Stuff it down your gullet. That’s it. That’s better. I want you to finish him off now. Make him come in your slut mouth.”

She tried, her head jerking up and down, her hair bouncing. Harry was on his way, all right.

“That’s it, cocksucker,” I went on. “Keep it up. Make him shoot. He’s coming, bitch. Don’t stop. Here it comes, cunt. Little tramp. Whore!”

Pat gave a muffled cry around his cock just as Harry exploded into her mouth. It made her start to cough.

“Swallow it,” I said.

And she obeyed me.

Harry gave her everything he had, and then collapsed like a flat tire. It took him a while to recover, but finally he got himself up and glazedly starting pulling on his clothes, shaking his head and saying, “Jesus Christ,” over and over. I kept Pat where she was until he was ready to leave.

“Listen, Harry,” I told him. “I want you to keep your mouth shut about this–or else you’ll never get it again. You understand?”

He goggled at me. “You mean…Oh. Oh, sure! I won’t say nothin’!”

“Good. Maybe next time you can bring a friend. Or two.”

There was a soft sound from Pat.

I got Harry out then and closed the door. And then I turned to look at Patricia, still on her knees on the floor, her head bowed, naked, panting, exhausted. My prick felt like it was about to explode, and so did my head. And then I knew what had to come next.

I went into the kitchen and came back with the spatula.

“Now,” I said.


She lay face down on the bed, her body stretched into a taut line, arms straight above her head, wrists tied together and fastened to the headboard, ankles similarly lashed together and roped to the foot, her face buried in a pillow to stifle her screams. I was concentrating on the backs of her thighs. Although her rounded, jutting ass was the most obvious target, and I had taken good advantage of it, the sensuous, exciting sweep of her thighs made a temptingly tender and vulnerable-looking area for punishment. Each time the spatula landed on them it made a crack like a pistol shot. I alternated, hitting one, then the other, with an occasional side-trip to the alluring buttocks; and once or twice I even got in a couple on her sweetly curving calves.

She was crying now.

I stopped for a moment. “You wanted this, bitch,” I panted. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes….” she sobbed.

“Do you want me to stop?”


“I thought not.” I raised the spatula and brought it down with a sharp crack.

She screamed into the pillow.

The metal had left marks along the creamy flesh of her thighs. I raised the thing again.

“Tell me what you are,” I said.

“I’m a whore,” she gasped out.


Another muffled scream.

“What else?”

“A slut.”



“Go on.”

“A cunt.”


“Aaaiiieee! A slave!”


“Ahh! God! God! A bitch! A…a cocksucker. Ahhh! Aahhh!”

Her body strained, flopping wildly in its bonds. I was yelling with her now, wielding the spatula up and down the length of her thighs. She raised her head from the pillow.

“Melll!!” she screamed. “Ohh god!! Fuck meeee!!!”

I dropped the spatula and ripped off my pants, then jumped on her. I couldn’t bother to untie her legs; I spread open her buttocks and jammed my aching cock into her asshole, pushing it, forcing it in, while she shrieked with pain and passion. I ripped deeply into her, heedless of anything but the whirling madness that had gotten hold of both of us. I battered at her for what seemed like hours. I knew I came twice, and each time got almost immediately hard again within her clutching, jouncing ass. I don’t know how many times she came; she was yelling continuously. At last a final, shattering climax seemed to hit us both like a nuclear blast, sending us spinning off into the dark reaches of the universe.

I fell off her in total exhaustion, leaving her tied there, and fell asleep almost instantly. My last conscious thought was that tomorrow we both had to go back to work. It seemed impossible that there was still a more or less normal world out there.


The consuming madness of that weekend took its toll of us, both physically and emotionally. Pat was too stiff and sore to go to work the next day. I managed to make it, but I was yawning all day long, and I had a deep weariness inside me that made me feel a hundred years old by the time I got home.

We were both very subdued that evening; there was no thought of fun and games. We didn’t even refer to the past two days, except perhaps by our unusually restrained manner with each other. We spent the evening mostly watching television, and went to bed without making love.

The next couple of days were more normal, except that there was still no sex between us. Pat went back to work. We put the twenty thousand into the bank, saving it for tuition and school expenses. When we went to bed Wednesday night, I felt a strong desire to make love to her; but something kept me from reaching out for her. The past weekend already seemed almost to have been a dream–or a nightmare?–but still…

Then, on Thursday evening, as we were eating, Pat said, in a voice just a little too flat: “We’ve been invited to dinner.”

“Oh?” I said. “Where?”

She took out an envelope and handed it to me. “It came in the mail today.”

It was from Emma. A brief note, written by hand, simply asking if we would care to join her and her husband for dinner at their apartment the next day, Friday, suggesting I call to let her know.

I put it down. “I wonder whose idea that was,” I said.

Pat said nothing. She went on eating.

I said, “Do you want to go?”

She put down her fork. There was a pause. Then she said, not looking at me, “Do you think they mean…just dinner?”

“I don’t know. With that bunch, it’s hard to know anything.”

She nodded, then resumed eating. After a while she said, “You decide.”

I finished my dinner thoughtfully, wondering what I was going to do. Or maybe just pretending to wonder.

I made the call after dinner.


Friday evening we prepared, a little tensely, for our evening with the rich folks. I put on a tie and jacket, which is about as dressy as I ever get, and Pat wore her nicest dress, a kind of pale orange with tiny dark stripes. The dress set off her skin and her shining dark hair, which she wore loose. She looked beautiful.

We arrived promptly at seven o’clock, and after the usual preliminaries in the lobby we were admitted by Jessica, who wore the brief see-through maid’s uniform which I had first seen her in. But her manner was perfectly correct and formal as she let us in and led us down the hall to the living room, where both of the Harrises were waiting for us.

They rose to greet us. Harris came forward effusively, took Pat’s hand and kissed it with almost comic courtliness, and then shook mine. “I am delighted you could come, both of you,” he said warmly. “Simply delighted. Please, sit down, sit down. What would you like to drink? Oh, I’m sorry–you two haven’t really met. My wife, Emma. Emma, this is Miss Patricia–I’m afraid I don’t know your last name, my dear. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Patricia is such a lovely name.”

We sat down, and Harris served us drinks. It was strange to think that the only time Pat had seen her before, Emma had been tied down to the floor, being gang-fucked under her husband’s direction. And that the last time we had seen Harris, Pat had screwed him and sucked his cock in exchange for an enormous sum of money. Yet here we all were, acting like normal people. So far.

Emma was wearing a light green dress, belted at the waist, which set off the slender elegance of her figure. I had half expected to find her wearing her handcuffs, or fettered in some way or other. And I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed to see that she was not.

We proceeded to make small talk. Harris asked Pat about her studies, and me about mine, and then turned the talk to more general things. Emma joined in the conversation, but after a while I started to notice something a little strange about her manner. She began to talk less frequently, and when she did her voice seemed a bit strained. I thought she was looking rather pale. And she shifted too often in her chair, as if unable to find a comfortable position. I tried not to watch her too openly, but as we continued to talk I was sure there was something wrong.

Harris noticed me noticing finally. He gave me one of his little smiles. “I see you have discerned some discomfort on the part of my wife, Mr. Wulf,” he said. “I have instructed her to endeavor to be discreet, but Emma is not a very accomplished actress. I am attempting to train her to the point where she can be a charming hostess for an entire evening, with no one ever suspecting whatever distress she may be in. However…” He sighed.

I looked at Emma more closely, and she smiled at me, a little tremulously. “Yes, I’m being punished again,” she said. “Bernard and Jessica keep coming up with such clever ideas. This one is really lovely. But I’m afraid it’s difficult not to react to it. I’m sorry.”

“The fact is,” Harris said, “Emma is wearing a special garment, one that I designed myself. It is quite ingenious, if I may say so. It is a brassiere, fitted especially and precisely to her measurements. It is quite snug, and the insides of the cups are studded with a number of very tiny steel spikes.”

I heard Pat draw in her breath sharply.

Harris turned his smile on her for a moment, and something flickered in his eyes. Then he turned back to me. “As I say, the spikes are extremely small, though sharp, and are precisely calculated to prick the skin, even to puncture it under pressure, without even drawing blood. However, they are quite painful, particularly if the garment is worn for any length of time.”

“I’ll bet they are,” I said. I glanced at Pat. Her face was slightly flushed.

Then Jessica came in to announce that dinner was ready.

We went into the dining room, where we sat around a long table as Jessica served us. The dinner was delicious, and very elaborate by our simple standards. We had soup, and then some kind of smoked salmon, then the main course, which was beef and vegetables in a wine sauce with a French name. After that came a salad, and then dessert. There were several wines served, too, though Pat and I merely sipped at ours, neither of us being big wine drinkers.

Throughout the meal Harris kept the conversation going, and he seemed to particularly enjoy drawing Emma into it. As the dinner went on, Emma got paler, and she squirmed almost continually in her chair. Her voice shook a little when she spoke, and by the end of the meal she was perspiring, though the room was not particularly warm. I saw Pat watching her. As she got paler, Pat’s color seemed to deepen.

At Harris’ suggestion we adjourned to the living room, where Jessica served us coffee. Emma, mumbling an excuse, stayed behind. I wondered if she was going to take the brassiere off.

The three of us chatted, a bit awkwardly now, until after a while Harris put down his cup. “And now,” he said, smiling at both of us, “I propose that we return to the dining room for the REAL main course of the evening.”

Pat looked bewildered, but I had a suspicion about what was going on. We got up and followed him.

As I had supposed, the main course was Emma. She was laid out on the dining room table, face down, with her head just over the frong edge of the table, facing us as we came in. Her hands were tied behind her, and her legs were splayed widely apart, so widely that her feet hung over the sides of the table. Ropes were tied to each of her ankles and fastened somewhere beneath the table’s surface. She was still wearing her dress, but it was rucked up around her waist, and from there down she was completely naked.

Pat gave a little cry of shock. My throat was dry.

“A most appetizing dish, I think you will agree,” Harris said dryly. “As Emma told you, she is being punished. The reason does not matter. Part of her punishment is serving as our entertainment this evening. Of course, it is well-nigh impossible to find any punishment which, for Emma, is not actually a reward. She loves it so. Ah, well–one can’t have everything. If you will take a seat, you will have an excellent view of the proceedings.”

“Does she…” Pat began, a little breathlessly. “Is she still wearing…”

“The brassiere? Oh yes, certainly. That’s part of the idea. In that position it will be terribly painful. Isn’t it, Emma?”

“Yes, Bernard,” Emma said softly.

“And you love it, don’t you, you silly bitch?”

“Yes, Bernard,” she whispered.

“You see? But let us waste no more time. Jessica!” he called. “We are ready now.”

Jessica came in. She was carrying a riding crop.

Emma’s eyes closed for a moment, and she made a faint mewling sound.

“The crop is a remnant of Jessica’s English childhood,” Harris said. “She uses it very well, although with less precision than her brother Rudolf, whom perhaps you will meet later.”

“You’re a fool,” Jessica said to him.

“Perhaps,” he said equably. “And now let us proceed.” He unzipped his fly and casually pulled out his penis, which was semi-erect. “A few preliminary strokes, if you please, Jessica, to get me in the proper mood.”

Jessica positioned herself by the side of the table, then swiftly raised the riding crop and brought it down hard on Emma’s naked ass. Emma’s body jerked, and she cried out in pain.

“Good,” Harris said. “One more should be sufficient.”

The blonde woman did it again, with the same result. Harris’ cock was fully erect now. Mine was too. I sneaked a glance at Pat. She was sitting tensely in her chair, breathing rapidly.

Harris now stepped up to the table and lifted his wife’s head by the hair, then stuck his hard cock into her mouth. She took it with no protest, and began to suck him as he rocked slowly back and forth.

“All right, Jessica,” he said. “Until she makes me come, if you please. I expect your usual tender competence, my dear. You will be careful not to bite, won’t you?”

As he spoke, Jessica raised the crop and brought it down, harder than before. Emma’s cry was muffled by Harris’ cock. Jessica now began to beat the bound woman’s ass with a slow, steady rhythm, pausing a second or two between blows. She left red stripes across Emma’s buttocks.

Emma’s cries got louder with each stroke, though the smothered sounds came out as sharp, nasal wails. Through it all she sucked on her husband’s cock. He had let go of her hair; he stood with his hands on his hips and watched her work on him, her head moving slowly up and down. I wondered if he’d had the dining table manufactured at precisely the right height for this activity.

Each time the wicked little whip landed on her ass cheeks, Emma’s body jumped sharply in its bonds. I began to understand why she had been tied with her hands behind her, rather than spread-eagled. This way she had more freedom to writhe and roll under the lash; but if she did that, she inflicted even more pain on her breasts, already flattened against the surface of the table inside Harris’ studded brassiere.

I lost track of the number of times the crop came down. Harris wasn’t in any hurry, though Emma’s head was moving faster now, her lips clasping his prick tightly as they slid back and forth over its length. Tears were running from her eyes, and she gasped for breath through her nostrils between her muffled shouts.

At last I saw Harris’ body stiffen. “All right, Jessica,” he panted. “I’m going to come. Make her feel it now.”

The crop whistled. Emma’s shriek was strangled by his cock in her throat, but her body twisted helplessly. She got two more of the same before Harris finally emptied himself into her yelling mouth.

She didn’t lose a drop.

Harris removed himself from her mouth and calmly tucked himself back in and zipped up again. Jessica, hardly breathing hard, sat down in a chair, still holding the crop, a pleased expression on her face. Emma lay still, her head bowed over the edge of the table, moaning softly. Pat was sitting erect in her chair, motionless. I could tell she was trying not to show her feelings, but her hands were clenched on the chair arms and her breasts rose and fell a little too rapidly.

“Well,” Harris said cheerily. “I hope the banquet is not yet over. Mr. Wulf, would you care to partake? I should like to see Emma taken from behind in this position; it would bring out the advantages of my little invention even more, don’t you think? Will you do the honors?”

It was a hell of a temptation, but I fought it down. I didn’t want to be a pawn in his little games; if I did anything, it would be my own idea. “No, thanks,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “No? What a shame. Well then….” He turned to Jessica. “Perhaps Rudolf would oblige us. Do you think he might?”

“Rudolf is working,” Jessica said flatly.

“I think we can interrupt him for a little while. Would you fetch him, Jessica?”

“No,” Jessica said.

Harris sighed. “Jealousy does not become you, my dear. I suppose I could fetch him myself, in which case I would of course have to tell him about your lack of obedience.”

Jessica got up, her eyes blazing. “I’ll make you suffer for this, you old idiot.”

“I shall look forward to it,” Harris murmured.

Jessica went out.

Harris chuckled. “Jessica’s brother Rudolf is the only person I have even known of whom she is afraid. She also hates to see him make love with anyone but her. They share a room here–and a bed. We keep him around mainly to keep her from getting too far out of hand. And for times like this. He is a remarkable stud, as you will see.”

Jessica came back, followed by a very large, burly man a few years older than she was. He was built like a weight-lifter, but his powerful body moved with the grace of a panther. He wore an open-necked shirt and no jacket. His hair was darker than his sister’s, and his eyes were a very deep brown. They seemed to glint with a mysterious perception as he glanced swiftly around the room.

Harris introduced us. “You will have to understand,” he told us, “that Rudolf does not speak. Not that he is physically incapable of doing so; but he prefers not to. It is a vow he took some years ago.”

“Get on with it,” Jessica said sharply.

“Of course. Rudolf, I would like you to bugger Mrs. Harris. It will not be necessary to move her–I believe the table will hold both of you. Please do not worry about hurting her–oh, and use your weight on her as much as possible. Thank you.”

Rudolf didn’t seem at all surprised by these instructions. He simply took off his clothes. He did so without self-consciousness, putting them on an empty chair. His muscles bulged and shifted with his easy movements. And he had the biggest cock I’d ever seen, unbelievably long and thick even though it was still soft. I saw Pat’s eyes widen when he took off his shorts.

He stepped over to where Jessica was sitting, and, as though out of long habit, she leaned forward and started licking at his cock. It grew rapidly under her tongue, and she took it briefly in her mouth, sucking it until it was so long that she could hardly fit her lips over it. It was a truly amazing tool, and I marveled at the thought of it going into Emma’s tight asshole. But I had the feeling it had been there before.

Rudolf, fully erect now, turned from Jessica and climbed easily onto the table, kneeling between Emma’s outstretched legs. Without hesitation, he lowered himself toward her, guiding his cock with his hand. It poked between her striped ass cheeks, probed, and found its goal. Rudolf pushed. Emma gasped loudly. Then she raised her head and howled like a skewered animal as Rudolf proceeded to press slowly, powerfully, inexorably forward.

I watched in amazement as that monstrous pole disappeared inch by inch between her quivering buttocks. He was forcing his way into her anus through brute strength; but she was taking it, and though her agony was clear, I could see on her twisted face the same kind of unholy joy I had seen there before under similar pain–and that I had seen in Patricia’s face even more recently.

Then, in obedience to Harris’ instructions, Rudolf lowered his weight onto her body, pressing her into the table, crushing her bound hands beneath him and mashing her upper torso nearly flat against the hard surface. I couldn’t even imagine what torment her breasts must be undergoing inside that devilish brassiere. But as I was wondering whether the pain might be too much even for her, Emma’s howls took on a new quality, and I realized that she was about to come.

She came at least six times before Rudolf was finished with her, each time more intensely than the last. Rudolf fucked her steadily and expressionlessly, never letting up or varying his pace. I had the feeling that he could have gone on forever, and that he simply allowed himself to come when he figured it was time. After which he got down off the table and went over to Jessica, who dutifully took him into her mouth again and licked him off.

“Thank you, Rudolf,” Harris said. “That was most satisfactory. And now…Mr. Wulf, are you sure you would not care to undulge?”

By that point I wasn’t sure of anything, except that my cock was throbbing like crazy and I couldn’t seem to take a deep breath. I was more than just horny; a familiar undertow was tugging at me, and I was going under without much of a struggle.

I looked at the bound, half-naked woman on the table, the marks of the crop on her buttocks, gasping and moaning in post-orgasmic agony and bliss. I looked at the blonde maid with the spectacular figure and the bare, luscious legs, just pulling her mouth from her brother’s gigantic prick. And then I looked at Patricia, my Patricia, her face flushed with secret arousal, her hands tightly clutching the arms of her chair as she struggled to maintain the appearance of compusure.

As I looked at her, her glance met mine. We gazed at each other for a long moment; and then suddenly I saw her eyes widen, and a change came over her face. Her lips quivered slightly, and her tongue came out to moisten them. I felt my heart beating. For several more moments we looked at each other. And then her eyes dropped, and she sat there. Waiting.

Harris was watching us. “I think the main course is over,” I said. My voice was not quite steady, and I took a breath. “and now I think we should…have the dessert.”

The old man’s eyes gleamed. “I was hoping,” he murmured, “that that would be the case.”

“Patricia,” I said hoarsely. “Stand up.”

She looked up at me again. After a second, her eyes darted like a startled animal’s about the room: to Emma, to Jessica, to Rudolf, to Harris, and back to me. And then, slowly, with that air of graceful submission that set my head whirling, she rose to her feet. She stood there, her eyes demurely lowered, beautiful in the softly clinging dress, with her hair flowing over her shoulders.

“She is lovely,” Harris said softly. “Like a sacrificial lamb.”

“She’s a sacrificial slave,” I said. “Aren’t you, Paricia?”

Slowly, without raising her eyes, she nodded.

I said: “Strip.”

There was complete silence in the room, except for the sound of Emma’s labored breathing. Pat’s hands were trembling slightly as, after a long, tense pause, she brought them up behind her neck to undo the fastening at the back of her dress. She got the zipper started, then lowered her arms and reached back to pull it down. She slipped the top of the dress off over her arms, and then slid it down over her hips and let it drop to the floor.

No one moved. The silence was deeper than before. Even Emma seemed to be caught up in the moment. Pat, in pink bra and panties, hesitated again. Then her hands went behind her back and opened the brassiere clasp. Her movements were slow and almost dreamlike as she pulled down the shoulder straps and let the garment fall.

A faint flush suffused the delicate flesh above the fine, firm breasts, but her red nipples were stiff and thrusting. She was turned on by the degradation of revealing her naked body to this strange gathering.

Only a second went by before she reached for her panties and lowered them, exposing the fine, dark pubic triangle. She bent to slide them down her thighs, then stepped out of them with an awkwardness that only added to her desirability. Then she stood still, naked and trembling, a nervous, eager victim, ready to debase herself in whatever way I chose for her.

“Get down on your knees, slave,” I said harshly, “while we decide what is to be done with you.”

She sank slowly to the floor and knelt there, her eyes still lowered.

“Is she not beautiful,” Harris murmured. “Even my memory did not do her justice. So young and fresh. And obedient.”

“Mr. Harris has paid you a compliment, Patricia,” I said. “Thank him.”

“Thank you, Mr. Harris,” Pat whispered.

“Eager as I am,” Harris said, “to be thanked in a more… tangible manner, I leave it to you, Mr. Wulf, to direct the… dessert. I only hope I may be allowed to partake.”

I had something in mind for Pat that I was sure she didn’t expect. I wondered how she would react.

“Before she leaves here tonight,” I said, “Patricia will have been had by everybody in this room–women included.”

Pat caught her breath swiftly, and her startled eyes leapt up to mine. I saw her face pale.

“She has never been had by a woman,” I said, keeping my eyes on hers. “In that way, she is still a virgin.”

“How marvelous,” Harris breathed.

Jessica suddenly spoke. “I want her,” she said.

The mixture of fear, submission and helpless need in Pat’s eyes was so erotic that I nearly came in my pants.

“Take her,” I said.

A tiny whimper came from Pat. Jessica stood up. She put the riding crop, which she still held, on the table, between Emma’s legs, and then with a quick movement opened her flimsy uniform and took it off. Naked, she moved toward the spot where Pat was kneeling. Her wonderful body in motion was a wet dream in itself.

Pat watched her like a hypnotized bird.

She lowered herself to the floor near the trembling girl, then reached out and pulled her down beside her. Her hands moved greedily over Pat’s body, coming to rest on her breasts, squeezing them, testing their texture and resilience. Then she put her arms around her.

“Kiss me,” she said.

Pat swallowed. “I…I…” she stammered.

“Do what she says, slave,” I said sternly. “Everything she says.”

Hesitantly, tentatively, Pat brought her mouth to Jessica’s. The two of them kissed each other. Jessica kept the kiss going, at the same time pulling Pat’s body close to hers. They lay full-length on the floor, bodies pressed together, their breasts sliding and flattening against each other’s, their legs entwined. Jessica pushed her tongue into Pat’s mouth and began to grind her loins against the younger girl’s. Small, high-pitched moans now started to come from Pat, and her body writhed as she clutched the blonde woman tightly.

Then Jessica rolled Pat onto her back so that she lay on top of her. Still kissing her deeply, almost cruelly, she pried Pat’s legs apart with her own, lying between them as if she were a man intent on rape. As if to foster this impression, she began to pump her hips up and down, battering her pelvis against Pat’s crotch. Pat was moaning into the blonde’s mouth. Jessica soon tired of this, however, and breaking the kiss, she rose from the girl’s body to crouch over her, looking down with an almost triumphant expression at Pat’s twisted face and open, panting mouth.

Again Jessica began to explore Pat’s body, more roughly this time, her hands moving hungrily, possessively over breasts and belly and thighs. One hand slid between the parted legs and found her crotch. Without warning, two fingers disappeared inside her cunt, while a third made contact with the tiny nubbin of her clitoris.

Pat gasped sharply, and then began to moan as Jessica’s fingers moved knowledgeably. The blonde’s other hand was on Pat’s breast, squeezing it and tweaking the stiff nipple.

“Oh god!” Pat whimpered breathlessly. “Oh…oh Jesus… oh…oh…oh…” Her head was rolling back and forth, her eyes glazed. I wondered if she was too far gone to be aware of the fantastically erotic spectacle she made, helplessly abandoning herself to passion under the eyes of these closely watching strangers.

Jessica was grinning, her hand busy at Pat’s cunt. “Look at her,” she said. “I think she’s really a dyke after all.”

“She’s just a slut,” I said, hoping Pat could hear me. “She loves getting it from anybody.”

Pat was on the verge of climax now, but Jessica suddenly removed her hand. “Not yet, love,” she said tauntingly. “It’s Jessica’s turn now.” She lay down on her back beside the moaning girl. “Come to me, sweet. Come and make Jessica happy.”

Dazed and panting, Pat managed to roll herself toward Jessica, who pulled her down on top of her, kissing her gasping mouth. Then she put her hands in Pat’s hair and tugged at it. “Down, love. Down you go. All the way down. But slowly. There’s plenty of time.”

Pat made soft whimpering noises as she moved in response to the blonde’s grip on her hair. Jessica guided her head to her left breast. “There you go, sweets. Kiss me there. Kiss me nice.”

Pat obeyed.

“That’s right,” Jessica said throatily. “Now suck my nipple. Like that. Yes. Lick it and suck it. Oh, that’s good. that’s lovely. Now the whole tit. Open your mouth wide, love, and take all you can. Oh yes….Suck me….Oh you sweet little thing….”

Pat followed Jessica’s instructions slavishly, bowed over the blonde on her knees and forearms, her breath ragged. I was surprised at how aroused I was at seeing her paying homage to another woman’s body. I took my eyes off them for a moment to glance swiftly around. Harris was sitting forward in his chair, his glinting eyes riveted on the pair of them, his mouth slightly open. Rudolf was more relaxed, but he too was watching intently, with that strangely all-seeing gaze. Emma, fastened on her table, seemed to be watching from some far-off place of her own, a place of eternal, exquisite pain.

Jessica moved Pat’s head to her other breast, where she put her through the same process as before. She was breathing hard now, and after a few moments she tugged at the dark head again, moving it down onto her stomach.

“Lick me,” she panted. “Lick me all over, little dyke. Lick your way down.” She maneuvered Pat’s head slowly over her belly, pausing at her navel, then continuing down, down. She lifted her knees and opened her legs wide. Pat made a peculiar sound when her obediently busy tongue encountered the blonde pubic hair.

Jessica pulled inexorably at the hesitant head. “Now, you sweet bitch,” she rasped. “Eat me. Eat my pussy!”

With a cry of surrender and abandon, Pat allowed her head to be pulled between the spread thighs, her face to be mashed into the waiting crotch. Jessica gave a loud moan as Pat’s mouth made contat with her open cunt.

“Ahhh…Yes…Yes, you lovely little cunt….Suck it…. Ohhh…Your tongue…Put it in, bitch…. Deeper….Ah….Ahh…. Now higher. You know where…Yes! Ah!…Ahhh!…There, yes there….Lick it, lick it hard….Yes, keep it up….Don’t stop, you sweet little dyke….Ooohh…Ahhh…AAHHH!!”

She was rolling and squirming in the throes of orgasm, but she kept Pat’s head pinned where it was; and when she had finished coming, she panted: “Do it again.”

I spoke up. “You do it to her, too,” I said.

Jessica looked up with glazed belligerence, as if to object. But she didn’t bother. With a kind of shrug, she let go of Pat’s hair and half-pulled, half-directed her into a sixty-nine position above her.

It was lovely to see the two female bodies entangled, their heads, one blonde, one dark, buried in each other’s crotch, their beautiful legs pointing in opposite directions, and to hear the passionate, half-muffled sounds they made as they sucked at each other’s cunt.

Before long, Jessica came again; and then she rolled over on top of Pat and concentrated on bringing her off. Pat started to go crazy. She writhed madly under Jessica’s skilled tongue, crying out harshly and whipping her head from side to side so that her hair flew wildly about her face. Her body went into convulsions as her climax crashed over her, and she pounded her fists on the floor, yelling uncontrollably.

None of the onlookers in the room moved or spoke as Pat’s powerful orgasm ebbed and subsided into a long series of gasps and shudders. Jessica, after a moment, rose calmly and returned to her chair. The rest of us, still caught in the erotic intensity of Pat’s initiation into the world of lesbian lust, and curious as to her first reactions, kept our attention fixed on the quivering, panting girl.

It took her a while to recover, but then the awareness of her surroundings seemed to come back to her with a sudden jolt. She sat up and looked around at us with wide eyes. “Oh my god,” she whispered. Her eyes closed, as if ti shut us out, then opened again. “Oh my god!” For a moment I thought she was going to jump up and run out of the room. But then she suddenly drew in her breath with a hiss, and a long shudder went through her whole body. Then, with a strange, deep moan she lay back on the floor, spreading her arms and legs wide, wantonly exposing herself to everyone in the room.

“Look at me!” she cried. “Oh my god, look at me! I love it! Mel, I’m a whore, you’re right, I’m just a slut whore. I loved what that woman did to me. I love having them see me like this. Oh god. Watch me…” She suddenly brought her right hand down to her cunt and began to play with herself, her fingers moving on her clitoris.

“Look…look…” she panted. “I’m a dirty cunt, I jerk off in pubic, I fuck men, I fuck women….I suck….I… I…Aaahhhh…”

I watched in helpless amazement as she came again. Even with all that had happened before, I was not prepared for anything like this. Her climax seemed to calm her down. She lay quietly for a moment, then looked over at me. “Mel,” she said softly. “I’m such a filthy bitch. I want to be punished.”

I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “Your punishemnt,” I said as calmly as I could, “is to fuck the rest of the people in this room.”

“Mel…please…” When I said nothing, she sat up slowly, and then got to her feet. I watched, we all watched, in silence, as she walked gracefully over to the dining table, then picked up the riding crop which lay between Emma’s open legs, where Jessica had placed it. Holding it with both hands, she walked across the room to where I was sitting. Then she lowered herself to her knees in front of me. In that position, she held out the little whip for me to take.

After a moment, I took it from her. When I did, she rose to her feet again, and then drew herself up erectly and slowly raised her arms high above her head, holding them straight up in the air, lifting her breasts, tightening her belly, showing her whole lovely body to its best advantage.

“Use it on me, Mel,” she breathed. “Anywhere you want.”

My mouth and throat felt parched, and my head was pounding. As if with a will of their own, my eyes dropped to her high, firm, thrusting breasts. I licked my dry lips.

“Anywhere?” I got out.

She saw where I was looking, and caught her breath. “Oh yes!” she gasped, her eyes shining. “Yes! Yes, Mel. Please!”

I started to get up.

But Harris’ voice stopped me. “If I may make a suggestion, Mr. Wulf…” he began.

The interruption startled me a little; Pat had almost driven the others out of my mind. “Sure,” I said.

“I certainly do not wish to deprive you of your pleasure,” Harris said, “and even less to deny Patricia the punishment she so desires. However, I gather that you contemplate using the crop on her breasts. A truly delightful idea; but I must warn you–I speak from a certain amount of experience–the breasts are most delicate and vulnerable objects, and their chastisement can be dangerous if undertaken with anything less than perfect control and finesse. Our object, I think you will agree, is to inflict pain–even extreme pain–but not to risk permanent injury. Especially to such a beautiful and…uninhibited young lady.” He cleared his throat. “Now, as I mentioned to you earlier, Rudolf here handles the crop with an amazing degree of precision and expertise. He has a vast amount of experience in this regard; and, as I take it that you have little or none–as yet–I would strongly suggest that you allow him to fulfill Patricia’s request. I can assure you he will do a thorough job.”

I hesitated for a moment, then looked at Pat, who had lowered her arms as Harris was speaking, and now stood motionless in front of me. She looked back at me steadily, but gave me no sign. She was breathing rapidly.

I turned back to Harris and nodded.

“Excellent,” he said. “Rudolf, if you don’t mind…”

Rudolf, still naked, rose from his chair and came over to me, holding out his hand for the crop. I gave it to him. He stepped back, and Pat slowly turned so that he could have access to her body–and so that everyone could have a clear view of her being whipped.

“I think three strokes will be sufficient, Rudolf,” Harris said softly. “Three of the best. I suggest one on the upper surfaces, and one on the lower–and the third directly on the nipples.”

Rudolf nodded. Pat said, in a breathless voice, “Tie me.”

“I think not,” Harris said. “If you will raise your arms again, my dear….That pose makes you look so enticingly vulnerable–and frankly, I would find it deliciously exciting to see whether you can hold that position throughout. Don’t you agree, Mr. Wulf?”

“You can pretend you’re strung up from the ceiling,” I said hoarsely.

“Yes!” she breathed. And once again she raised her arms into the air, stretching them taut, and then crossed her wrists high over her head, as if they were lashed together and pulled upward by an invisible rope.

I was breathing heavily myself now, and my heart was hammering against my chest. Harris’ eyes were gleaming.

“Very well, Rudolf,” he said.

Rudolf stood to one side of Pat and a little in front of her, facing her tense, expectant body, his eyes studying the uplifted and unprotected breasts, which rose and fell gently in rhythm with her accelerated breathing. Then he lifted his arm and with a swift, sudden movement sent the crop hissing through the air, to strike with a sharp, clear report across both of the thrusting globes, not more than an inch above the nipples.

Pat screamed. Her face twisted violently, and sudden tears sprang from her eyes. Her knees buckled slightly, and her arms sagged–but she did not lower them. After a minute, gasping and trembling, she pulled her body erect again and straightened her arms as before. And waited.

The naked man raised the crop again. His arm went back. The lash made a fearful whistling sound, and then it cracked cleanly and accurately over the lower curves of the quivering breasts.

Again she screamed loudly. And this time her arms came down in spite of herself, and she cradled her breasts with her hands, her shoulders hunched, her head bowed, her body heaving with choking sobs. Rudolf stood quietly, the crop at his side.

The air was charged with an erotic force that you could almost touch. Even Emma seemed to have come out of her own private ecstasies of suffering to watch the scene with vivid interest. Harris was sitting on the edge of his seat; in his own strange way, he was showing more emotion than I’d ever seen in him before. Jessica was twisting in her chair and playing with her own nipples.

Then Pat lifted her head. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she brushed them away. She pulled herself up with an effort.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, and raised her arms again.

Her body swayed a little, and her breasts, now decorated with twin red stripes, heaved as she panted loudly. But she looked directly at the man holding the little whip, not even flinching as he raised his arm once more.

Harris had not been exaggerating Rudolf’s expertise with the crop. The third blow was the hardest of all, and it landed with deadly precision directly across both of her nipples.

This time her scream was deafening. Her legs gave way, and she fell to her knees. She stayed there, bent over and hugging herself tightly as she moaned and sobbed and struggled for breath. Rudolf dropped the riding crop and turned to walk back to his chair. I saw that his huge cock was fully erect. he had enjoyed his work.

Pat’s bowed and heaving body rocked from side to side; her disordered hair fell chaotically over her face. As her moaning gradually diminished in volume, I became aware that she was trying to say something between her hiccupping sobs.

“What’s that, slave?” I asked roughly. I didn’t recognize my voice.

She made an effort to control herself. “…Fuck…me…” she groaned breathlessly.

I wanted to fuck her more than anything in the world. But with an effort I said, “No.”

She gave a despairing cry.

“Rudolf is the man who whipped you,” I went on. “He should be rewarded. Show him how grateful you are.”

“Oh yes…” she gasped. “Yes!”

She didn’t try to get up. She crawled. On her hands and knees, she crawled slowly and painfully across the room toward the chair in which Rudolf was sitting.

As she approached, Rudolf slid from his chair and lay down on his back on the floor, his enormous prick jutting up at a slight angle, looking like the leaning tower of Pisa. He was ready.

Pat crawled right up over his body. When her head reached the level of his cock, she paused to pay it homage with her mouth, kissing and licking it avidy, then stretching her lips around its astonishing girth for a moment before she went on. When her crotch was above the throbbing tool, she reached for it with a whimper and held it as she lowered her body to meet it.

She hissed sharply as the tip of it penetrated the open lips of her vagina. She had to struggle to get the massive thing inside her, but she squirmed and stretched herself until she had managed to take the head of it into her cunt; and then she forced herself down on it slowly, moaning as it made its gigantic way up into her belly.

“Oh god!” she cried hoarsely when she had finally taken all of it inside her. “Oh Jesus…it’s splitting me…Oh god, it’s so good…so big…so good….” Her words trailed off into unintelligible babbling, and she began to move herself up and down on him, gently and tentatively at first, and then harder and more rhythmically. Rudolf just lay there and let her work over him, her torso writhing and twisting, her thighs pumping, her striped breasts bouncing and bobbling. She threw back her head, a high-pitched wailing sound coming from her mouth, and in a moment her body spasmed wildly as her climax jolted through her.

After she had come, she stayed where she was, impaled on Rudolf’s still stiff cock, panting like a dog in heat. Before long she was moving again, working up to her second orgasm.

Harris rose from his chair suddenly. I could see the bulge in his trousers. He had already begun to remove his clothing when he spoke. “With your permission, Mr. Wulf,” he said, a little unevenly, “I would now like to possess Patricia by way of the one aperture to which I did not gain access the other day.”

“Be my guest,” I said. “And this time it won’t cost you a penny.”

He was soon naked, and he walked over to the two bodies on the floor, his cock bobbing in front of him. He knelt down behind Pat and then put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her forward, gently but firmly, until she was lying on top of Rudolf, her abused breasts flattening against his chest, her hips still moving her cunt up and down on his prick.

Harris crouched forward above her, spreading her buttocks with his hands. He pressed his dick between them, maneuvering it to the crinkled opening of her anus. “Sweet Patricia,” he murmured, and then with a grunt he pushed himself forward.

Pat gave a squeal of mixed delight and apprehension as she felt him stabbing at her asshole; and then she shrieked with painful joy as his cock forced its way through the tight opening. Determinedly he pushed on, plowing into her anal passage, driving Pat crazy as she was fulled to bursting by two cocks at once.

“Aahhh!” she yelled as Harris began to move strongly back and forth in her ass. “Ahh yes!…Yes, fuck me….Oh Jesus, fuck me…kill me….Oh, your cocks…love your cocks…two cocks… inside me…AAAIII!!…Do it! Do it hard!…I…I’m going to… Ohh FUUUCK….”

I watched her body go out of control, her hips slamming forward and back, whipsawing her cunt and asshole madly on the two skewering poles. She howled like a wild beast as she came a second time.

Her climax did not cause Harris to lose a beat. He continued to plug away steadily at her asshole, each thrust forcing her down hard over Rudolf’s motionless but gut-splitting cock. Sandwiched between the two men, moaning and panting helplessly, Pat was soon caught up again in the painful ecstasy of what was happening to her.

I couldn’t stand it any more. I had held back as long as I could, but watching Pat getting screwed fore and aft after everything that had happened, seeing her sweating, writhing body, her whip-marked breasts, her pain- and lust-distorted face and gasping, yelling mouth, was driving me out of my senses. I felt I was definitely ready to come in my pants; and that would be a hell of a waste.

I stood up and went over there, opening my zipper on the way. My aching cock sprang out; it seemed to have been hard for hours. I sat down next to Rudolf’s head.

Pat looked up at me dazedly. “Mel…” she panted. “Mel… look at meee….”

“I see you,” I rasped. “Tell me what you are.”

She closed her eyes in ecstasy. “I’m a whore,” she whispered. The word was like a prayer.

I grabbed her head and pulled it over my crotch. “Show me.”

“Yes…” she moaned, and jammed her mouth down over my cock.

I nearly came right then, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to hold on. Her mouth had taken me all in with one gulp, and now she started to suck me hard, her head pumping, her tongue swirling on my prick, while her hips continued to jerk wildly back and forth between the two men who fucked her.

“NOW look at you,” I said gratingly. “Look at you, you cock-loving little slut. Screwing three men at once. Taking it from all sides. Cock in every hole. And you still can’t get enough, can you? You want more. More cock!”

Pat was whimpering and moaning around my dick, her head moving frantically, her body bucking and twisting like an unbroken bronco, her hips pounding like a triphammer.

“Cunt,” I went on, panting now. I hardly knew or much cared what I was saying any more. But I knew one thing, with a sudden, startling clarity. These abusive, hurting words were words of love. And Pat knew it too. “Bitch. Cocksucking twat. Look at you degrading yourself. Groveling, squirming, crawling degradation. Cock in your mouth. Cock in your cunt. Cock in your ass. Three cocks coming inside you, filling you with their sperm. Splashing you, soaking you, drowning you in come! Come on, whore. make us come. Make us all come inside you!”

Pat was coming herself now, coming hard, her body wracked by jerking, wrenching spasms. And then almost immediately she came again. Then she went into a nearly continuous series of orgasms, coming over and over uncontrollably, helpless to stop herself. Unearthly sounds welled up from her insides, partly muffled by my cock deep in her gasping mouth. Perspiration streamed from her frantic body as it was buffeted mindlessly by an almost unbearable intensity of pleasure.

I felt my last remnants of control starting to slip away, and I clutched at her to keep her head on my pounding cock. Then I saw that Harris was already coming. He was thrusting with all his strength into her madly bucking ass, and as I watched he emptied himself into it with a raspy groan.

Almost at the same time Rudolf finally climaxed too. The only signs he gave were a slight arching of his hips and a gentle sigh as he shot his long-delayed load up her cunt.

Pat shook with still another orgasm as she felt them filling her with their sperm. And I gave myself up to her clutching, twisting mouth, yelling loudly as I exploded again and again and again, in the longest and most intense climax I had ever known, shooting what seemed like gallons of sperm down my Patricia’s gulping throat.


I don’t know how much time passed before I heard Harris say weakly, “I thank you, Mr. Wulf–and Patricia, of course–for contributing so marvelously to our evening’s entertainment.”

I sat up heavily. We had been lying on the floor like zombies. Harris was getting to his feet. I looked at Pat lying beside me, her breath coming in weak gulps, the perspiration drying on her body, fucked out, drained, hurting and utterly exhausted.

“Hell,” I said in a croaking voice, “it’s not over yet. I said Patricia would fuck everyone in this room. She still has Emma to take care of….”


There was no more constraint between us. There was no sense in trying to struggle against the things we had discovered in ourselves, or in pretending we were still a normal couple. We accepted what we were, and embraced it. Slave and master, masochist and sadist, whore and pimp–the terms didn’t matter; we were what we had to be.

One night not long after our evening at the Harris’, I told Pat I was ready to exhibit her in public. “We’ll go out for dinner,” I said. “Go change your clothes. I want to put you on display.”

“What do you want me to wear?” she asked.

I thought. “You remember that little sweater your aunt sent you for Christmas, that you never wore?”

“It’s too small for me,” she said in a low voice.

“That’s perfect. And leave off the brassiere.”

“Oh Mel…”

“And put on a skirt. The shortest one you have.”

“Yes, Mel.” She went.

She came back wearing the sweater, a thin, light brown pullover that stretched so tightly over her bosom that it looked as though she would burst out of it at any moment. It lovingly molded every curve and contour of her shapely breasts, and clearly defined the little protuberances of her nipples. She had also found an old blue miniskirt that came only about a third of the way down her thighs. It was not exactly in fashion, but it looked terrific with her bare, luscious legs.

“That’s great,” I said. “Every man you see will be raping you in his mind.”

She made a tiny sound in her throat.

Then I had another idea. “You should be tied,” I said. “That would make it perfect. Even if nobody knew.”

She caught her breath, but said only: “How will I eat?”

“We’ll figure out something,” I said. “Bring me a piece of rope.”

She brought me the rope, and, following my instructions, turned around and put her hands behind her. I tied her wrists together. Then, remembering Emma’s technique, I found a light coat sweater and hung it over her shoulders, buttoning the top button at her throat to keep it in place.

I studied her. It was not obvious that her hands were tied, but she looked erotic as hell. I couldn’t resist putting my hands on the front of her sweater.

“Now if anybody DID try to rape you,” I said, rubbing her nipples, “you wouldn’t be able to do much about it.”

She was breathing hard, and I knew if we didn’t leave then, we’d never get out. I took my hands away. “Let’s go.”

I took her to a restaurant within walking distance of where we lived, but one that we hadn’t been to before. It was not yet dark out, and walking through the streets I could see that Pat’s face was flushed as almost everyone we passed stared at her, some covertly, some more openly. Men especially couldn’t take their eyes off her; the goggled at her avidly as they went by, many of them turning around for a long look at her legs, a few actually stopping in their tracks as she approached to gaze hungrily at her thrusting, jiggling breasts beneath the tight pullover.

“Enjoying yourself?” I said to her.

Her voice was breathless. “It’s…it’s humiliating….”

“And it makes you hot,” I said.


The restaurant was a neighborhood place, not too fancy but fairly crowded. I chose a table away from most of the other diners, but one which allowed us to be seen by them. Pat attracted plenty of attention as we were seated. She sat down carefully, holding herself erect in her chair so that her pulled-back arms would not be uncovered. Seated, her skirt was drawn back even further over her thighs. The waiter’s eyes kept dropping to her breasts as he put the menus on the table. I couldn’t blame him; her quick, nervous breathing was doing wonderful things to the front of her sweater, and her nipples were poking out the material in little spikes.

I ordered steaks for both of us, and the waiter went away reluctantly. I looked casually around. Most of the customers had gone back to their food, content with occasional or more frequent glances at Pat, but some of the men were still watching her. “There’s a guy across the room who’s crazy about your legs,” I told her. “If you slide forward a little bit, he’ll be able to see just about all of them.”

She swallowed. “Mel…”

“Do it.”

The flush that was still on her face deepened, but she moved forward in her chair, and her skirt pulled up almost to her crotch. The man across the room nearly had a heart attack.

I grinned. “There’ll be a lot of guys here thinking about you when they screw their wives tonight,” I said.

As we waited for our food, I could see that Pat was becoming uncomfortable in her erect position, but she was reluctant to move around too much for fear that someone would realize that her hands were tied. Her slight twitchings and squirmings only added to the erotic excitement of her situation.

Finally the waiter brought our steaks, his eyes again devouring Pat’s enticingly displayed body, while trying vainly not to be too obvious about it. When he had finished asking us if we wanted anything else, and trying a few more delaying tactics, and had gone away again, Pat looked at me helplessly. “How am I going to eat?”

I was busily cutting my steak up into bite-sized pieces. “With your mouth,” I said calmly.

“What…what do you mean?”

I went on cutting the steak, and when I finished I took her plate and put mine in front of her. “There you go,” I said. “all ready for you. All you have to do is bend over, pick up a bite in your mouth and chew it up. Just like the little animal you are.”

She stared at me, her eyes wide. “I–I can’t,” she whispered.

“Sure you can,” I cut a bite of my own steak. It wasn’t bad.

“Mel, I…Jesus! Everyone will…”

“That’s the idea,” I said. “Remember?”

“They’ll throw us out,” she protested breathlessly.

“I doubt it.” I went on eating.

“Mel, please…”

“Eat!” I said. “Now!”

She looked wildly around, then took a deep, shuddering breath and bent over her plate. She swiftly picked up a bite of meat with her teeth, and then straightened up with it in her mouth. Her face was flaming.

“That’s a good little piggy,” I said. “Now chew it up and swallow it, and you can have another one.”

I could see that a lot of people were staring at her now, having seen or been told by their companions what she had done. It took her a long time to chew the bite, but she finally got it down.

“Now take another one.”

She made a little whimpering noise, but after a second she bent her head to her plate again and snared a second bite. A low buzz went around the restaurant, and I saw our waiter conferring worriedly with one of his colleagues.

After she had taken the third bite, the waiter came over to our table, looking a little nervous. “Excuse me, sir,” he said politely. “Is there…ah…anything wrong?”

“No,” I said. “Everything is very good.”

He nodded doubtfully. “Is…ah…the young lady all right?”

I looked him over. He was a dark-complexioned guy in his thirties with a suave manner, and he didn’t look like anybody’s fool.

“The young lady is fine,” I said. “Her hands are incapacitated at the moment, so she’s using her mouth instead. The young lady is very good with her mouth,” I added.

The waiter looked at me sharply, to see if I could have meant what he thought I meant. Pat was staring at me too. “Her… hands?…” the waiter said inquiringly.

“They’re tied,” I said. “Behind her back.”

The waiter’s face changed, but subtly. He turned to look at Pat again with a new expression in his eyes. “I see,” he said in a thoughtful tone. Pat was breathing hard.

“Actually, what the young lady needs,” I said, “is a place where she can kneel on the floor, and use her mouth…properly. Would you have such a place here, perhaps?”

The waiter hesitated only a moment. “I think we may be able to be of service, sir,” he said. “If you and the young lady will follow me…”

I got up and motioned to Pat. The waiter held her chair politely as she rose. We followed him to the back of the restaurant, and through a door into the kitchen, where several people were working. Beyond that, he led us into a small room that was evidently used as a pantry, with cans and boxes of food stored on shelves along the walls. When we were inside, the waiter closed the door and slid a bolt.

“Will this be satisfactory, sir?” he asked.

“This is fine,” I said. “Now if you would care to gratify the young lady further…”

“Very happy to, sir,” he said, a bit hoarsely.

“Kneel down,” I said to Pat.

“If you don’t mind, sir…” the waiter said hastily. His hands made a tentative but eager movement toward Pat’s tightly outlined breasts, and he glanced at me. “May I?”

“Please do,” I said.

His hands came to rest almost reverently on the swelling mounds, and for several moments he played with them, rubbing and caressing, squeezing and palpitating, testing the hardness of the nipples. Pat stood motionless except for her heavy breathing, which sounded loud in the little room.

“Thank you, sir,” the waiter said. “I am ready now.”

I nodded to Pat, and she sank to her knees on the floor.

The waiter unzipped his trousers and released a quite sizeable prick, which sprang fully erect into the air. Pat brought her head forward and took it into her mouth.

She began to suck him slowly and thoroughly. As her head bobbed up and down the man’s face twisted with pleasure, and soon he was panting.

“I told you she was good with her mouth,” I said.

“Oh yes, sir,” the waiter moaned. “She is, indeed….Oh yes, indeed….Ohh she is…wonderful….Ohhh…Ahhh…Ah yes…Ohh yes!…”

I watched closely as Pat continued to pleasure him, her head gradually moving faster over his rock-hard cock. When I sensed that he was close to the end, I said, “The young lady would be obliged if you would come in her face.”

“Of course, sir,” the waiter said chokingly. And a moment later, he pulled his cock out of her mouth and with a small cry shot several spurts of semen directly into her eyes. Pat didn’t move.

“Very good,” I said. “I’m going back to finish my dinner now. I’ll leave the young lady here for a while.” Before I left I took the waiter aside and gave him further instructions. Then I went back to my table.

My steak was cold now, but I enjoyed it anyway. Half an hour passed before Pat came out. Her knees were dirty. And her face was covered with sperm.

She sat down opposite me, breathing hard. “He wouldn’t let me wipe my face,” she got out.

“I told him not to,” I said. “How many were there?”

“Five. Two more waiters and two busboys. And the cook.”

“You blew them all?”

She nodded.

“And they all came in your face?”

She nodded again.

“Good,” I said. “I’ll have to leave a big tip.” I stood up. “Let’s get out of here.” I put some money on the table.

“My face…” she said apprehensively.

“It looks beautiful,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“Ohhh…” But she got up, and, looking straight ahead of her, her breasts bobbing, her bare legs soiled, and her face dripping with come, she walked with me through the restaurant, past all the tables of gawking, gaping diners and out into the street.


“Oh Mel,” she moaned breathlessly, when we were outside. “Oh Jesus god, Mel. Take me home and fuck the hell out of me!”

“Sure thing,” I said. I pulled out my handkerchief. “I’ll wipe your face off now.”

Carefully, I cleaned the still-wet sperm from her features, being sure to get every drop. Then I told her to open her mouth. When she obeyed, I stuffed the handkerchief into it.

“There,” I said. “Now you can suck on that all the way home.”

And she did.


I picked up the guy at the bus station and took him to the Milford Plaza Hotel. He was thin and balding, dressed in a new but not very expensive suit and a corny tie, and he carried a suitcase. An out-of-towner.

As he paid the fare, he seemed a little nervous. He kind of hemmed and hawed for a minute, and then came out with it. “Say, you, uh…being a cab driver and all, I mean…uh…I mean, you know where I can–get a little action? You know what I mean?”

Well, I had run into this before, and I started to tell him how I was relatively new on the job and didn’t really know any… And then I stopped.

I hesitated for a long time. Ten seconds, at least.

“Sure,” I said then. “I can get you the best lay in town. For nothing.”


I called Pat at the place where she worked. “Listen,” I told her. “I just picked up a guy who’s looking to get laid. I sent him over there. I told him to ask for you.”

There was silence over the phone. Then, after a minute, she said: “Oh.” Very softly.

“I want you to give him a good time,” I said.

“Mel…I’m working….”

“So take a few minutes off. Say you’re sick.”

“I–I don’t see how I can….Where am I going to…”

“You can work it out,” I said. “Take him to a back room or something. Or the ladies’ room. I don’t care. Just make it good. And remember it, because I want you to tell me all about it while I’m screwing you tonight.”


“I sneaked him into the ladies’ room,” Pat panted. “And I locked the door.” Her arms and legs were wrapped tightly around me, and her hips were rising and falling rhythmically beneath me in response to my steady thrusts. “I pulled up my skirt…and took off my panties and…and we did it standing up…against the wall…ohh…ohh Mel….And then he wanted to…go down on me… and…and I had to bite my arm…when I came…to keep from screaming…and–ohh, ahh…unhh…and then I bent over the sink and he…took me from behind…aahh Jesus!…And then I asked him if–if he wanted me to suck him…but he said he couldn’t do any more…and he just wanted to…to take a piss…and I–I… Ooohh…ohh god….oohhh!…”

“What did you do?” I grated, moving harder inside her.

“Aahh!…I got down…and took him in my mouth…and–just held him there…while he…Aaahhh!…Unnhh…Unnhh!…Yes!… Aaaiiieee!!!”

She came, bucking and spasming uncontrollably, and I came with her.


A couple of days later Pat got a letter. As she read it, a frown came over her face, and when she put it down she said, “Oh, damn.”

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“It’s from my father. He’s coming to New York on a business trip. He’ll be here Tuesday.”


“Well, it’s just complicated. I mean, he doesn’t know about you at all. And he certainly doesn’t know I’m living with somebody. My god, he’d die. He’s very straight and all. I guess I’ll have to arrange to see him outside someplace. I just hope he doesn’t get suspicious.”

“Why don’t you just tell him the truth?” I said.

“I told you, he’d probably have a stroke. He thinks I’m still a virgin or something, for god’s sake. If he knew what his precious daughter was REALLY like…” She rolled her eyes.

“I think it’s about time your father learned the facts of life,” I said.

“You don’t know my father.”

“In fact…” I began, and then I started to grin. I felt the grin grow wider while the idea percolated in my brain, and Pat’s eyes narrowed as she saw my expression.

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“In fact, I think it would be a great idea if old Daddy were to walk in here and find his sweet little daughter right in the middle of a good hot fuck.”

Pat stared at me in complete shock. She didn’t move. She didn’t say anything. For a long time.

“You’re not serious,” she said then, flatly.

“Sure I am.”

I watched her closely, and very gradually I saw it begin to sink in, begin to work on her. Her face went through a lot of changes. There was a real war going on inside her. I waited it out. Her eyes betrayed the final outcome long before she knew it herself.

“My god!” she breathed. “He’s…he’s my father!”

“That’s the best part.”

Her breasts rose and fell a little too quickly under the shirt she was wearing. “I couldn’t!…My father…God, he’d–he’d…I don’t know WHAT he’d do. He’d kill me!”

“I won’t let him do that,” I said.

“But…” She moistened her lips. “Jesus!” she whispered. I could see where her stiff nipples were poking against the shirt-front.

“Maybe he’ll want to join in,” I said.

She caught her breath sharply, her eyes wide. “Ohh!” she gasped. “Oh, Mel…” She began to squirm in her chair. “My own father,” she said throatily. “God, it’s…it’s so…DEPRAVED!”

“Yeah.” I grinned at her again. She was breathing harder than before. Almost unconsciously, one of her hands rose to her breast and caressed it with a little circular movement.

“He’ll just walk in here,” she said in a crooning voice, “and I’ll be fucking…naked…his little girl…with your cock inside me….Ohh Melll…” Her eyes closed. Her free hand started rubbing her crotch through her jeans. I watched her slowly writhing body until I couldn’t stand it any more.

“Let’s start now,” I said hoarsely, and went to her.


So, when George Donaldson, Pat’s father, knocked on our door at seven o’clock Tuesday evening, after having phoned Pat from the airport and arranged to come over, his daughter was sitting astride my hips as I lay on my back on the floor, riding up and down on my cock for all she was worth, her naked body facing toward the door through which her father was about to enter.

We had been fooling around for the past fifteen minutes or so to put ourselves in the right mood, but had been careful not to go too far. When the downstairs buzzer sounded, I jumped up to push the button, then said, “Okay, let’s go,” and got into position. Pat straddled me and slid down easily over my stiff tool, letting out a little moan. She was really turned on, by anticipation of the upcoming scene, and also by her own lingering sense of shame and embarrassment about it. Her nipples thrust out like tiny rigid fingers from the tips of her wonderful breasts.

She started pumping herself over me immediately, in a slow but strong rhythm. “God!” she panted. “Oh god, Mel! He will die. He will just die!”

“I think I hear him on the stairs,” I said.


“Easy,” I cautioned her. “You don’t want to get carried away yet.”

With an effort, she kept her movements steady, but the breath rushed in and out of her open mouth.

Then there was the definite sound of footsteps on the last flight of stairs, and in a moment the knock came at the door. Pat’s face paled, then flushed, all in a second; but she never stopped moving, and then she pulled in a breath and called: “Come in!”

The door opened.

The first thing I heard was a crash. By craning my head back I got an upside-down view of the doorway, and I realized that the noise had been made by a suitcase, which had dropped from the nerveless fingers of the man who was standing there.

He was around fifty or so, with graying hair and a little bit of a paunch on a generally solid frame. He wore a suit and a pair of rimless glasses, behind which his eyes were now bulging like a madman’s, staring incredulously at the scene that met them.

“Hello, Daddy,” Pat said breathlessly, still moving. “Come on in!”

Donaldson was rigid with shock. HIs face changed color, just as Pat’s had done a minute ago, but more slowly, turning first a deathly pale, and then a gradually deepening mottled red. He couldn’t seem to get his breath properly. For a second I really wondered if he WAS going to have a stroke.

He suddenly gave a strange, hoarse cry and turned swiftly around as if to leave. But he had taken only a step when Pat called to him.

“Don’t go, Daddy! Please don’t. Please!”

He stopped, hesitated, started to go, hesitated again, and then very slowly turned around. His eyes focused on us again, blinking, as if hoping that what he’d seen the first time had been a mirage. But what he saw was the same: his daughter, naked on the floor with a naked man, a cock up her cunt, humping herself up and down on it, her breasts bouncing boldly in the direction of her father, her face looking up at him radiant with pleasure and erotic passion.

“My god!” Donaldson choked in an unearthly voice. He stepped like a zombie into the room, fumbling for the door to close it behind him. The redness was slowly ebbing from his face, leaving it looking sick. In fact, his whole appearance now resembled a man who had just been punched hard in the stomach. “My god!” he repeated. “Patricia! Stop that, for god’s sake! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m fucking, Daddy,” Pat said. She moved harder. “Why don’t you sit down and watch?”

“Oh, dear god!” Donaldson cried huskily, and at that moment I wasn’t sure whether he was going to jump at me and start beating me up, or faint dead away. Then he kind of clutched at his stomach and groped blindly for a chair. He fell heavily into it. “Patricia,” he groaned. “Stop. Please stop.”

“Oh, no,” Pat breathed. “Not yet. It’s so much fun! Oh…I’m sorry. Daddy, this is Mel. He’s my lover. He’s a very nice boy–especially his cock. Oh, it feels so good up my cunt!”


“Hi, Mr. Donaldson,” I said. “Sorry I can’t shake hands right now. My hands are kind of busy.” I put them over Pat’s breasts. She moaned.

Donaldson made a rattling noise in his throat. “Please,” he said weakly. “Please…Patricia, I…you…I can’t believe…”

“Oh, it’s true, Daddy,” Pat panted. “Your little girl has grown up. She fucks, she sucks, she does everything!” Her eyes were closed, and she was twisting her body from side to side as she pumped herself up and down. “She’s a little slut…a cock-lover…a whore….”

“Stop it!” her father cried.

“I’m going to come,” Pat gasped. “I’m going to come, Daddy. Watch me. Ohh. Ooohh. Watch me, Daddy. Watch me come. Aaahh! Now! I’m coming, Daddy! I’m commmiiinnng….”

Her body went into a series of shattering convulsions, and she collapsed on top of me, her breath sounding like a bellows.

“Patricia…” It was a groan of despair. Donaldson looked like he was about to cry. However, he hadn’t once taken his eyes off us. “Patricia…how…how could you…”

“Ohh, Daddy,” she said breathlessly. “I love it…I just love it!” Lying on top of me, she began to wriggle her hips slowly and sensuously, her warm, wet cunt clutching at my still-stiff prick. Then she turned her head to look directly at her father. “Would you like to join us?” she asked.

Donaldson started to turn red again. “Wh-what…what did you say?!” he choked.

“You can if you want,” Pat said. “Mel wouldn’t mind. And neither would I.” She smiled at him invitingly.

His mouth opened, closed, opened again. “You…you’re insane,” he whispered.

“Oh, come on, Daddy. Wouldn’t you like to fuck me?”

“Don’t say that! Good god! You’re my own daughter!”

“Don’t you think I’m attractive?” Pat said. She pushed herself up so that she was sitting on me again, and twisted her body to face him. “Don’t you think I have nice breasts? And a good body?”

“Stop it. Stop it!”

“Don’t you think I’m sexy?” Pat went on. “Mel does. Look.” She swung herself off me and sat down on the floor next to me. “Look at his cock,” she said throatily. “See how big and hard it is? Is yours like that, Daddy?”


“Watch, Daddy.” Pat bent down and licked my cock lovingly. “Mmmm,” she crooned, running her tongue from base to tip. Then she put her mouth over it and sucked at it. Donaldson gave another inarticulate cry.

Pat kept her eyes on her father while she slid her mouth over my prick. Then she lifted her head. “I love doing that, Daddy,” she breathed. “I’ll do it for you.”

“Patricia…for god’s sake…”

Patricia got to her feet then, and walked slowly toward her father, her hips swaying. “You’d like to fuck me, Daddy,” she said softly. “I know you would.”

“No! No!” His face was twisted with horror–and something else.

“Oh, yes,” Pat whispered. “I know. I can see your cock is hard right now.”

Donaldson squirmed in his chair, ineffectually trying to conceal the bulge at his crotch. “No! Stay away from me!”

“Let me see it, Daddy. Please. Let me just look at it.”

“Stop!” Donaldson made an abortive attempt to get up, but by this time Pat was standing in front of him. He didn’t look as if his legs would have held him anyway.

“Just a look,” Pat pleaded. She knelt down suddenly and reached for his fly. Before he could move to stop her, she had pulled down his zipper and released his rigid penis, which stood pale and throbbing in the air.

“Ohh, lovely,” Pat breathed, and bent her head toward it.

“No!!” With a convulsive movement, he clapped his hands over his crotch, protecting the prick from her touch. She drew her head back.

“Let me, Daddy…”

“No…no…You mustn’t….You’re my daughter…”

Pat lay down on her back, just in front of his chair, and spread her legs enticingly, so that her open cunt was exposed to him. “Fuck me, Daddy,” she moaned. “Put it in my. Stick it up my cunt.”

“Please….Stop…We can’t….” Donaldson was panting and twisting in his chair. One of his hands had somehow closed around the cock it had been guarding. Almost unconsciously, the hand began to move very slightly, up and down.

Pat saw what he was doing. She opened her legs still wider, and her own hand went between them. She began to finger her cunt and clitoris, her body squirming against the floor. “Do it, Daddy,” she gasped. “Look at me and do it….”

“Patricia…my god…I can’t…I can’t help…” His hand was stroking himself openly now.

“Yes….Do it….Think about fucking me….Pretend you’re inside me…deep inside me….Ohh Daddy…fuck me…”

“Oh god….Oh Jesus….Oh god….” Donaldson was gasping, and moving his hand with a strong, steady rhythm as he stared down at the writhing, rolling, naked body of his daughter.

“Come, Daddy….Come inside me….Come in your daughter’s cunt….Shoot it into me…into your little whore daughter…. Come….”

“Patriciaaa!!” he shouted helplessly, and with a sudden wrenching spasm of his whole body, he exploded, his sperm shooting in silver jets from the tip of his cock, arching in the air, and falling in splatters onto his daughter’s body.

“Ahh! Oh beautiful, Daddy!” she cried. “Beautiful!” And with her hands she smeared his come all over the front of her, rubbing it lovingly into the flesh of her breasts and belly.

Donaldson hid his face in his hands.


It wasn’t until nearly two hours later that Pat actually got him to fuck her. She did it by getting him to spank her first “for being such a bad girl.”

And by the time he went home, three days later, he had come to know intimately every hole in her body, had developed an expert technique with the spatula, and would never be the same again.


About a week after that, I came home later than usual, and found Pat preparing dinner. She greeted me cheerfully enough, but as I got a can of beer from the fridge and sat at the kitchen table to drink it, I got the impression that there was something unusual about her manner. She seemed to be moving very carefully. her face had a strained look, too. “Anything happen today?” I asked.

Very casually she said, “I went up to the Harris’ after work this afternoon.”

“Oh? How come?”

“Emma invited me. We…played around a little.”

“I’ll bet. Was Harris there? Jessica?”

“No. Just us two girls. And…I tried on Emma’s bra. The special one.”

I put down my beer. “My god,” I said. “Her bra would be too small for you.”

“Yes, it was. It is.”

I stared at her. “You mean…”

“She let me borrow it,” she said. “I’m wearing it now.”

We never got around to dinner that night.


Much later, lying beside her in bed, I said, “Your birthday’s coming up next week. How would you like to have a bra like that made just for you?”

“I’d love it,” she said. Then she added, “But that’s not what I really want most.”

“You’re a greedy little bitch,” I said. “Okay, what do you really want?”

She told me.


I called Harris the next day. As I had expected, he said he would be delighted to help.

And so, early on the morning of her birthday, I escorted Patricia, her hands fastened behind her, to Osindorf’s garage. Harris was waiting for us outside, with two men who I recognized.

“Ah, Patricia,” he greeted her. “Happy birthday, my dear. How lovely you look. And what a wonderful present you have chosen for yourself–and all of us. How fortunate that I never got around to having those rings removed from the floor. Well–shall we go in? We mustn’t keep all those men waiting.”

We went into the garage together.